Could you recount the Iliad in less than 50 words to save your life? After the microfiction workshop at this year’s retreat, many participants reported that they were indeed confident they could, should a Sphinx accost them on Rue de la Loi.
During the session we crafted tiny stories about big things and enjoyed building narrative arcs that could be read in one breath. Microfiction means stories finished within a few minutes. Rarely do writers get to feel that level of dopamine.
For those who were emotionally blocked because their 400-pager was taking forever to finish, microfiction propelled their confidence to literary canon levels, or so the story went…
Here are a few of our microstories.
kid: “Is he still breathing?”
kid: “I’m bored.”
parent: “Don’t say that – he might hear you!”
kid: “I AM BORED!”
grandparent: “Me too.”
by Mimi Kunz
I needed out. An eternity in this church was not my chosen afterlife. A young artist saw me floating above the altar, bade me close. I am in him now, outside the church, seeing the pine trees, painting the pine trees, seeing the men in white coats. Together forever, in a sanatorium. Damned. by Patrick ten Brink
He was everything she ever dreamed of; charming, funny and intelligent. What she didn’t know was that his admirable knife skills didn’t come from cutting turkeys. by Karmen Špiljak
David Graham, the first President of Earth did not hesitate to give the order to annihilate the demons’ spaceship, in full knowledge that he would also be killing the king and queen of demons, his parents.by C.S. Begu