pages Micro-Fiction Archives

General’s Burial

Issue No. 173 ~ October, 2011

The town pleaded with the Lord, but the sand began to take their towers. One story at a time, the towers sank into the ground. No one knew why.


Issue No. 172 ~ September, 2011

Across the boulevard there were still old buildings. An elderly woman appeared and threw a bucket of steaming water at the pavement. He crossed the boulevard and realized she was scrubbing excrement.


Issue No. 171 ~ August, 2011

I never run on release; I duck and cover. This is how I was taught to handle emergency situations like earthquakes and nuclear attacks in elementary school.


Issue No. 171 ~ August, 2011

It wasn’t ‘til late that night after he got hit that I decided on bringing Sidney back to life. I’d been playing around with the idea my whole life – cutting worms into two pieces and watching them wriggle on both ends like a magic trick God come up with just for me.


Issue No. 170 ~ July, 2011

She went back to the bedroom where the man was still in the bed. She told him she was ready to go now, and then she folded him up neatly and put him into the bag too.

Africa, By Now

Issue No. 170 ~ July, 2011

Had she no memory of machetes and warlords, of petty thieves with missing arms, Rhoda would not have understood the meaning of the question, “Short sleeves or long sleeves?”


Issue No. 169 ~ June, 2011

Owen turns off the TV and runs upstairs. I hear water running. I look at the ceiling. I look at my watch. I take a few more sips from my cup.

Kyla Kyla, Persephone

Issue No. 169 ~ June, 2011

I thought maybe she was fooling, but then I tapped my finger on her collarbone and for some reason, right then, I knew something wasn’t right, so I ran and knocked on the nearest door but nobody answered.

The Queen Rides Again

Issue No. 169 ~ June, 2011

He was looking at us both with leery-beery eyes, and then suddenly he was slinging Daisy over his shoulder and running down the length of the porch with her screaming, bellowing like a calf.

The Crunch

Issue No. 168 ~ May, 2011

Locked in the reversal of time, Marcella cannot create anything new; she cannot scrawl into the desk fresh wounds that shout "make me old, make me old, make me old!"