Microfiction Party!

As this monthly segment draws to a close, I’ve reached the inevitable point where I’m running out of stories from the vault to share. 2024 will bring big changes for the blog, but until then I have promised monthly short stories.

Thanks to a lovely weekend at Can*Con, I have some new material to share! On Saturday, I participated in the Microfiction Party hosted by E.D.E. Bell. Thanks to the random, single-word prompts she supplied, I have three new VERY short stories to share. Within the time restraints, we were tasked with writing two pieces of microfiction and one single sentence story. None of these have been edited, and they were written just for fun – which makes them perfect for this month’s short story post.


“It’s self care,” said Todd as the camera flash lit up the room. “No one else has to see. It’s just for me.”

Another flash, a picture from a new angle.

“Not my best work, but no one has to know.”

The third flash lit up the room, making the blood splatter on the walls glisten like rubies. He paused, examining the pictures on his phone.

“Maybe not as bad as I thought.”

He scratched his chin, smearing blood on his face.

“I think this might just be good enough. You know, I will leave my calling card.”

He etched a tiny ankh into the flesh of his canvas.

“There,” he said. “The Backroom Butcher strikes again.”

I hate it when he tries to tell me what to do. Digging my heels in, I become argumentative, which makes him push harder. He doesn’t know I fantasize about growing wings so I can fly away. And he doesn’t know I fantasize about killing him in his sleep. If he knew, would he still push me the way he does? It doesn’t matter. Doesn’t make a difference. Even if he knew I dream of escape and death, he’d continue to micromanage every second of my day. He knows I don’t have the guts to do it. Knows he doesn’t have to hide the kitchen knives, or check for poison hidden beneath spiced meals and sweet treats. It’s simpler if I keep to myself and go along with what he wants. He’s right. I am a coward.

I am but a simple merchant of secondhand organs, and everything I sell is perfectly legal.

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