Microdosing Fiction Sesh
A special community call!
Hey!
I’m going away on a family weekend. Which means I won’t have the time and space to make the Batch in full. So I had an idea to do a little Microdosing Sesh! I’ll give out a looser prompt today so you can stretch your writing muscles a little bit more freely and I’ll then post 5-10 of those in my post tomorrow in full to give a little bit more spotlight to the stories I’ll enjoy.
This is one of the things I want to do a bit more often when I run out of my own stories to share or time to work on them :) Let me know if you enjoy the idea!
Today’s Sesh Is On The Prompt
JOURNEY OF STILLNESS
Craft a story in 50-250 words based on this prompt, whatever it sparks in you. Feel free to collaborate with others, connect the stories together and do a proper writing sesh!
If you like what I do a paid sub or a cup of coffee goes long way! ❤️🦝
STILLNESS
The monk arrived at the city center, dragging a worn wooden chair with one uneven leg. He placed it in the middle of a crowded intersection at rush hour. Cars honked and swerved around him while the pedestrians filmed the scene on their phones.
The monk sat, spine straight, folding his hands.
He did not move.
Day cycled to night. Rain tapped on his shoulders. Still, he sat, unmoved. News anchors arrived to speculate... is it a protest? Maybe performance art? One journalist checked nearby mental asylums to see if any residents escaped.
Three days later, a woman skipped going to her job and decided to join him. No chair. Just the floor.
By day six, there were over twenty people. Four days later the mayor banned sitting citing its causing “economic lethargy.”
Police personnel arrived with batons and citations. When they tried to lift the monk, their arms suddenly felt heavy. Their feet became sluggish. One officer sat down “just to catch his breath.” He never got up.
Soon, the city productivity dropped 37%. The streets were peaceful and birdsong filled the air.
The monk never spoke. When he finally vanished, he left behind a note on the chair.
“The journey of stillness is not escape.
It is resistance without fists.
Attention without violence.
A revolution of being.”
Every year, a stranger approaches the chair. They sit.
To remember that the world is allowed to stop and be still.
240 words.
Last Rides
I’m no Charon. Nothing so grandiose. Nothing so mythological. Literally. No ferrying across the Stygian rapids. Blue collar all the way.
I’m just a simple working guy. No tariffs need apply. This is not a job like making sneakers they can send away to preteens in Malaysia. I’m hands on all the way. Customer service included. Brawn and brains. And heart.
They call me Fleetwood Mac cuz that’s the model I drive. I fix ‘em up. Keep ‘em running smooth. AND I drive ‘em. That’s what business school calls vertical integration. The Cadillac Fleetwood is the most popular brand of hearse in the United States. Has been since the 1930’s. Think of all those poor bastards always dreaming of owning a Cadi and finally get their first ride in one as a stiff.
Once I tune ‘er up I doff the coveralls and throw on the dark suit, my only, from that warehouse sale. Still fits like a glove. Change my shoes and socks, this is a class operation. Never had a complaint from a passenger yet.
I can’t offer wisdom. Can’t offer relief. But I can offer no satellite radio. No Yankees on the AM band. One last thing I can offer. Respect. A journey of silence. Journey of stillness.