Microfiction For Lunch • 8
February 02, 2021
A Fond Farewell From Microfiction For Lunch
This is the final issue of Microfiction For Lunch. I started this newsletter as an experiment. Unfortunately, it didn’t find much of an audience, with only 9 subscribers. So I plan to spend my creative time on other projects. Thank you for subscribing.
If you have enjoyed the stories, you can find more microfiction (and other stories) from these talented writers by following the links below their stories.
Thanks again, and on to further adventures!
by Justin Deming
“Go — creep into the world. Set fear in their hearts. Strike hard and fast in the East!” Death ordered her loyal followers as they set out on the warpath. The initial attack was key.
Soon, the pandemic engulfed the world.
But the tide shifted; normalcy returned.
Human spirit proved unconquerable.
The Children’s Garden
by Terrye Turpin
“Go ahead. I’ll rest.” Rose Watson’s grandmother sank onto the park bench. “They’ll keep me company.” The grandmother waved at a circle of sculptures – children, bronze figures cavorting in the grass.
“Okay. You sure you don’t need…”
“I’m old, not incontinent.” The grandmother laughed. “Better scoot, the garden’s closing.”
Rose hurried to the restroom, casting a glance at her grandmother. Had she ever played like those statues? She’d worked years in a factory, supporting her family.
Rose returned to an empty bench. “Grandmother?” Childish laugher answered her. In the dusk she searched, never noticing the extra figure in the circle.
The Finnish Line
By Mary Keating
Traveling through remote areas of Finland, Nancy relied on mime to communicate. Because no Finnish word resembled English, Nancy was delighted to find an illustrated lunch menu.
She eagerly pointed to an entree under a cartoon chicken.
The waiter kept shaking his head.
Nancy grew adamant. She jammed her finger down on her selection, making clucking noises while imitating laying an egg.
Concerned, the waiter left her table without taking her order. He huddled with other servers who periodically pointed at Nancy. They called over a patron.
The patron approached Nancy and said with a heavy accent, “This children menu.”
by Dascha Paylor
All her life, Annika had wanted to dance the white swan in Swan lake.
“Not nervous,” she whispered as a single butterfly fluttered in her stomach.
The lights dropped; the music rose. Annika’s movement, from first step to her perfect death, held the audience rapt until the final, thunderous applause.
The Best of Intentions
by E.D. Martin
The cat pauses to glare at Walter, and he briefly feels guilty for disturbing its feast.
His remorse morphs into horror as he realizes what it’s eating.
He reassures himself his mom, who always nagged him for not stopping by, would be happy her favorite cat was so well fed.
by Mark Starlin
It took light years to reach our new home.
It was inhabited by bipeds similar to us.
They appeared intelligent.
We wanted to be sure before revealing ourselves.
We watched their cable news and logged onto their social media.
“These humans are nuts.”
“Let’s get out of here.”
Enjoy your lunch.