The rolling of wheels on wood roused me from my slumber. I rushed into the hallway and saw a girl sitting on a trike at the top of the stairs. The girl’s neck lolled lazily to one side; she was as pale as a dead fish belly. The front wheel rolled over the edge of the staircase.
CLANG!
Cracking and popping reverberated through the house and crescendoed into a thud.
The letter was printed on cheap paper. What else could he expect from his company? Hector, a talented copywriter, often questioned why he'd chosen to work in their call center. He knew the answer: for kids. Writing didn't pay the bills and being single parent is tough.
Midway through reading, he dropped the letter, learning they were terminating his position and implementing AI. The spectre of poverty loomed over Hector.
Gerald sat on the bench where his wife and he used to feed the ducks every Saturday. They were married 67 years, and it still doesn’t feel like long enough. He looked over to where she used to sit, placing his hand there fondly. It almost felt warm. He looked out at the ducks scattered across the pond, wishing he hadn’t forgotten the bread. He forgot so much these days.
The hooman was cold. It had stopped moving for days. My belly ached, hunger clawed at me. I signed, went to the attic, and dug out an old Ouija board. I blew off the dust, rubbed my paws together, and purred. I went to get my sibling. Together we joined paws. The board trembled. “Come back, hooman,” we whispered. The board moved. The room chilled, and our dishes were filled.
The sound of oxfords clacked across the teakwood floor. Francesco was lost in contemplation, hit by the fact his little angel would never fall into his arms again. But he couldn't stress over it. He had a life to live.
Opening the bar room cabinet, he pulled out a bottle of Bombay Sapphire. He poured himself a dollop and stepped up to her mounted photo, kindly carousing it with the tumbler in hand.
After a single swill, he said in summation, "Thought I wouldn’t know about your little Gallahad?"
Hope you don't mind that I went with the British spelling 😉. Based on a true story my Grandmother told me of an encounter she had.
Spectre
She’d spotted the woman as she returned from her walk through the orchard. She was struggling with a yoke by the pond.
They discussed the weather and how healthy the willow tree was in a familiar fashion before leaving each other amicably.
It was only when she closed the door to the old country house that a surreal feeling hit her. Visitors were rare. And that woman was not a familiar face.
Lmao. Since I’m not a native, but we mostly learned British spelling at school, while simultaniously consuming mostly American media, which turned me into this weird hybrid lol. I spell some words with American spelling and some with British
I was having a discussion about this today with a colleague. I'm trying to learn to not be too pedantic about language and writing at work as I write a lot there. He mentioned that often just getting the right message across is 90 percent of the job. It's the old school journalist in me, but I think either is fine considering the transatlantic nature of the world now 🤗
PROMPT: SPECTER
THE GHOST
He had no idea there was so much training involved with being a ghost.
It turned out there was an art to making floors creak, and vases smash, at just the right moment.
And even your moaning had to be very precise, to ensure it sounded tormented enough.
He was going to need a lot of practice.
But it had always been his dream to work in a Haunted House… 😎
“Clang”
The rolling of wheels on wood roused me from my slumber. I rushed into the hallway and saw a girl sitting on a trike at the top of the stairs. The girl’s neck lolled lazily to one side; she was as pale as a dead fish belly. The front wheel rolled over the edge of the staircase.
CLANG!
Cracking and popping reverberated through the house and crescendoed into a thud.
ooooh. horrible!!
He stared in the mirror. He swallowed dryly.
You piece of shit. She deserves better, just like the last one. Just like all of them.
The door banged open “You look beautiful, man, come on! it’s the Bride that’s gotta be late, not the Groom,” said the best man.
The priest read the vows. After each line, he said “I will”, but the past whispered “You know you won’t.”
The letter was printed on cheap paper. What else could he expect from his company? Hector, a talented copywriter, often questioned why he'd chosen to work in their call center. He knew the answer: for kids. Writing didn't pay the bills and being single parent is tough.
Midway through reading, he dropped the letter, learning they were terminating his position and implementing AI. The spectre of poverty loomed over Hector.
I fully agree with Miguel. As our world grkws more callous and wicked, the plight of humanity looms as well!
Ouch, this one is painful, scary and too real foreshadowing of possible future. Thanks for joining in Martin!
I am glad I found good micro fiction publication here. Coming back to dribbles and drabbles feels good.
Sorry for realistic dread 😉
If you’re looking for Micros check out @Erica Drayton and @Jimmy Doom they are the faces of daily micro-fiction here.
I also have to recommend @Daniel O’Donnell @Chris Patrick and @Justin Deming these guys deliver uppercuts with a couple of paragraphs too!
This was awesome Miguel! 🤣
Thank you 🤣
the problem with coming in late is all the good ideas get taken... and miguel is first in the queue... cunning old fox!
Idea wise I'm in a position of certain advantage, I'll admit.
Microdose ‘Specter’ 70 words
Gerald sat on the bench where his wife and he used to feed the ducks every Saturday. They were married 67 years, and it still doesn’t feel like long enough. He looked over to where she used to sit, placing his hand there fondly. It almost felt warm. He looked out at the ducks scattered across the pond, wishing he hadn’t forgotten the bread. He forgot so much these days.
😭😭😭😭
aching sadness.
Microdosing - 70mg of a Specter
The lights were out. She had stayed overtime in her office.
Looking up, she searched for the light’s motion sensors on the ceiling.
She stood up, stretching her stiff arms.
The sound of rapid keyboard tapping kept going from the corner desk.
She walked up along the cubicles, wanted to find out who else still stayed.
She arrived at the corner desk. All lights went back on.
No one’s there.
So I had this idea earlier, but can't fit in 70 words, so I up the dose a little: https://olivias24.substack.com/p/the-headhunter
Not ghosted 😂😂😂
🤣
"He was often ghosted" ahahaha
I really liked that one!! It was so cute.
Here's mine:
The hooman was cold. It had stopped moving for days. My belly ached, hunger clawed at me. I signed, went to the attic, and dug out an old Ouija board. I blew off the dust, rubbed my paws together, and purred. I went to get my sibling. Together we joined paws. The board trembled. “Come back, hooman,” we whispered. The board moved. The room chilled, and our dishes were filled.
very strategic cats..
Very. Smart little things
I love the subtext on who conjured the "hooman."
Hahaha thx!!🐱
That's cute!! ❤️
REMINISCENCE
The sound of oxfords clacked across the teakwood floor. Francesco was lost in contemplation, hit by the fact his little angel would never fall into his arms again. But he couldn't stress over it. He had a life to live.
Opening the bar room cabinet, he pulled out a bottle of Bombay Sapphire. He poured himself a dollop and stepped up to her mounted photo, kindly carousing it with the tumbler in hand.
After a single swill, he said in summation, "Thought I wouldn’t know about your little Gallahad?"
Hope you don't mind that I went with the British spelling 😉. Based on a true story my Grandmother told me of an encounter she had.
Spectre
She’d spotted the woman as she returned from her walk through the orchard. She was struggling with a yoke by the pond.
They discussed the weather and how healthy the willow tree was in a familiar fashion before leaving each other amicably.
It was only when she closed the door to the old country house that a surreal feeling hit her. Visitors were rare. And that woman was not a familiar face.
Damn I had no idea there are two different spellings
dont u watch james bond?
Another one like centre and center 🤣
Lmao. Since I’m not a native, but we mostly learned British spelling at school, while simultaniously consuming mostly American media, which turned me into this weird hybrid lol. I spell some words with American spelling and some with British
I was having a discussion about this today with a colleague. I'm trying to learn to not be too pedantic about language and writing at work as I write a lot there. He mentioned that often just getting the right message across is 90 percent of the job. It's the old school journalist in me, but I think either is fine considering the transatlantic nature of the world now 🤗
I like this so much.
I'm glad Patris!
“Jacob, I require your services this evening”.
“How may I be of assistance sir?”
“I need you to pay a special visit to a Billionaire elite. Take 3 other specters with you, but I want your visit to be the first”.
“Yes sir, where may I find this elite?”
“He’ll be departing from his counting house within the hour. Make sure you give him a right scare”.
“The marks name, sir?”
A ghost for hire sounds cool as hell.