"Fucking mist!" Getting up at 3 am, walking uphill for three hours and getting soaked in the misty wheather was not fun for everyone. Tom was one of those people. "Just wait." I replied. After reaching the top of the hill, we only had to wait a few minutes. The fog cleared and the sun rose. This moment was absolutely worth all the effort. Tom let out quite "ahhh" next to me, but I was already on site taking pictures for my next (and hopefully paid for) article.
"You can hardly see the buildings anymore!” It was the first time either of us had been able to travel in a while, and we watched as the city got closer. The driver clicked his tongue, unamused with the tourists occupying his car. The misty city was beautiful in its own, eerie way. It was inviting us into it, and yet, I couldn’t help but feel threatened by its gloom.
Mist consumed the forest Ed trudged through. He tripped over roots and stones. Ed squinted and spotted a river through the haze; he plopped down on a moss-covered stump. Waves crashed against a turtle-shell-shaped rock; a lichen-covered log floated in the drink.
“Help!” A shrill voice screamed from the water.
Ed jumped into the river. Something sunk its claws into his ankle and dragged him into the dark, murky depths.
Welcome back Miguel - glad you took some time for yourself and "real world" and a very cool re-entry might I say - reminds me of the classic "the night was sultry" clip from "throw mamma from the train" - if you never saw that film, you need to - genius! I am struggling with "mist" right now, but hopefully something will emerge from it...
Thank you Nick! As I said in the notes below. Mist was one of the first prompts I wrote in my notebook when starting Microdosing. Took me almost 10 months to actually write something on it haha.
Welcome back, Miguel! I'm glad you had a hiatus, but you've left us all feeling the effects of our addictions being cut off cold turkey. I don't know about others, but I've been suffering a bit of a brain fog from the change in routine. Like I'm walking around in the mist, unable to find my way without the daily microdose filling my feed. (You see what I did there?)
~70 words for MIST (not *really* flash fiction, but an tribute to Miguel's return) 😊
Oh I LOVE this! And 70 words can be so difficult to tell a story in. (I did a 60 word story from one of your prompts and it was definitely challenging for me) You always do such an amazing job in your stories.
I left her cabin. One last kiss. Sped off, outboard motor screaming like a banshee from a bent rod that never got straighten. The mist on the lake swirled. My motor stopped at my dock. Boat tied. Peeled a plump potato. No crinkled fries; hot cooking oil cooled quick. The fire died . No refries. Alone I dreamt I helped fight fire with fire that was mist filled with desire.
i really like the imagery - you capture that whole evening and the emotions in those few short clipped phrases - well done - i can imagine you agonising over which words to cut here and there - its an exercise isnt it!
Pea-souper turns deadly! Our fair city lies gripped in the foul clutches of a murderous miasma. Streets empty as Londoners gasp for breath. Undertakers overwhelmed, hospitals bursting!
"Never seen the likes," says Bobby on the beat. "It's the Devil's own breath!"
Parliament in uproar as death toll mounts. Is nature to blame, or man's folly? This ink-stained wretch wonders: Will London survive this froggy, foggy menace?
The mist arrived softly, a forgotten dream slipping between cracks of reality. It moved with deliberate grace, swirling through cobblestone streets and curling around windows like it belonged, settling in corners long untouched by light. The milkman, ever faithful, paused to watch it drift over the playground, something in its quiet pull catching him. He stepped closer, drawn by an unseen thread. And then—nothing. The world held its breath as the mist claimed him, leaving only the whispers of empty streets and the distant, rising cries of the waking village, a cacophonous echo in the stillness.
“It’s Mist, “ the German boy exclaimed, as he opened the cellar door.
“Go on,” I demanded, “I could see the misty window before the cellar door was opened. A little water vapor is not going to hurt us.”
The student hesitated.
What was his problem?
“Out of the way.” I commanded. I rushed the door, and suddenly regretted my lack of German knowledge as I stepped in cow manure.
Thank you for joining in Elsie!
"Fucking mist!" Getting up at 3 am, walking uphill for three hours and getting soaked in the misty wheather was not fun for everyone. Tom was one of those people. "Just wait." I replied. After reaching the top of the hill, we only had to wait a few minutes. The fog cleared and the sun rose. This moment was absolutely worth all the effort. Tom let out quite "ahhh" next to me, but I was already on site taking pictures for my next (and hopefully paid for) article.
"You can hardly see the buildings anymore!” It was the first time either of us had been able to travel in a while, and we watched as the city got closer. The driver clicked his tongue, unamused with the tourists occupying his car. The misty city was beautiful in its own, eerie way. It was inviting us into it, and yet, I couldn’t help but feel threatened by its gloom.
“Kappa”
Mist consumed the forest Ed trudged through. He tripped over roots and stones. Ed squinted and spotted a river through the haze; he plopped down on a moss-covered stump. Waves crashed against a turtle-shell-shaped rock; a lichen-covered log floated in the drink.
“Help!” A shrill voice screamed from the water.
Ed jumped into the river. Something sunk its claws into his ankle and dragged him into the dark, murky depths.
Glad to have you back Miguel.
The usual layer of fog engulfed the fens today. We silently slipped into the mist; our only sound was that of the oars creaking.
Behind us we could hear the cursing of the of the Baron's son; you said he was here, where is he?
We of the fens have little use for the nobility. We are an independent lot.
We had heard he was coming long before he arrived.
I'm glad to be back!
It's hard to see
and understand
Your misty thoughts
I have to guess
All the curves
that follow
One after the other
I move forward
slowly
With caution
And fear
By groping
And I discover
One after the other
The treasures you hide
In secret places
and dusty chests
inside
your lonely heart.
It's urgent to find out
How much of you is hidden
Between the protective cloak
Of illusion
Welcome back Miguel - glad you took some time for yourself and "real world" and a very cool re-entry might I say - reminds me of the classic "the night was sultry" clip from "throw mamma from the train" - if you never saw that film, you need to - genius! I am struggling with "mist" right now, but hopefully something will emerge from it...
Thank you Nick! As I said in the notes below. Mist was one of the first prompts I wrote in my notebook when starting Microdosing. Took me almost 10 months to actually write something on it haha.
Welcome back, Miguel! I'm glad you had a hiatus, but you've left us all feeling the effects of our addictions being cut off cold turkey. I don't know about others, but I've been suffering a bit of a brain fog from the change in routine. Like I'm walking around in the mist, unable to find my way without the daily microdose filling my feed. (You see what I did there?)
~70 words for MIST (not *really* flash fiction, but an tribute to Miguel's return) 😊
I think you need that disclaimer on your posts 😂
The Fiction Dealer doesn't take any responsibility for addictive properties of Microdosing Fiction.
He followed the small figure walking ahead. They were in a quiet street. The cold night had set in. Startled dogs barked at him from the alleys.
He kept his eyes forward.
'Do not lose her'.
The woman kept her pace. He felt the anticipation as he steadily closed in.
He stopped abruptly when she turned around swiftly. The thick mist slowly parted.
She held a baton, flashing her badge.
Ha! Just what he deserves!
RIGHTEOUS
“The mist was a veil. Blocking him from her tender gaze. A starless night.
She reached for him, arms outstretched like constellations.
He searched for her, a captain guiding his ship. Sailing through the waters of space and time.
They were universes apart. Her, drowning in sweet mist. Him, among the rolling clouds.”
“Did they ever meet?” the child asked and the storyteller smiled.
“Can the earth meet the sky?”
This one is awesome. Truly beautiful
Thank you! And welcome back Miguel
Dreamlike - well done to cathc that in so few words
Thank you! Dreamlike was what I was going for
Oh I LOVE this! And 70 words can be so difficult to tell a story in. (I did a 60 word story from one of your prompts and it was definitely challenging for me) You always do such an amazing job in your stories.
Aw, thank you Jess :) It can be challenging, but it’s a fun exercise :)
I left her cabin. One last kiss. Sped off, outboard motor screaming like a banshee from a bent rod that never got straighten. The mist on the lake swirled. My motor stopped at my dock. Boat tied. Peeled a plump potato. No crinkled fries; hot cooking oil cooled quick. The fire died . No refries. Alone I dreamt I helped fight fire with fire that was mist filled with desire.
i really like the imagery - you capture that whole evening and the emotions in those few short clipped phrases - well done - i can imagine you agonising over which words to cut here and there - its an exercise isnt it!
PROMPT: MIST
THE AIR FRESHENER
“Just a little mist”, she’d say, as she constantly sprayed air freshener all around the house.
It got rid of the smells, she said.
But the sickly scent it left behind also got rid of her friends, and they all stopped visiting.
She was found, months later, with the can still in her hand.
And it took a lot more than a little mist to get rid of that smell… 😎
NICE! i hate air freshener. guilty evil chuckle at this one
Haha! Thanks! Some of them can be very overpowering, for sure... 😎
LONDON CHOKED BY KILLER FOG!
December 9, 1952
Pea-souper turns deadly! Our fair city lies gripped in the foul clutches of a murderous miasma. Streets empty as Londoners gasp for breath. Undertakers overwhelmed, hospitals bursting!
"Never seen the likes," says Bobby on the beat. "It's the Devil's own breath!"
Parliament in uproar as death toll mounts. Is nature to blame, or man's folly? This ink-stained wretch wonders: Will London survive this froggy, foggy menace?
So nice to have you back!
The mist arrived softly, a forgotten dream slipping between cracks of reality. It moved with deliberate grace, swirling through cobblestone streets and curling around windows like it belonged, settling in corners long untouched by light. The milkman, ever faithful, paused to watch it drift over the playground, something in its quiet pull catching him. He stepped closer, drawn by an unseen thread. And then—nothing. The world held its breath as the mist claimed him, leaving only the whispers of empty streets and the distant, rising cries of the waking village, a cacophonous echo in the stillness.
Great to have you back!
Once upon a time, it was a dark and stormy night and it was a foggy morning. They're all great.
A foggy piece.
Will do up something for the prompt tomorrow.
S͜͡n͜͡o͜͡w͜͡y͜͡t͜͡e͜͡l͜͡l͜͡e͜͡r͜͡