Daily 100-200 word stories.

I decided to do a chain of microstories. Everyday I'll write a small vignette and post it. Nothing super developed, no consitiant characters. Just scenes to put you, dear reader, into another place for 2-5 minutes. Thanks for reading.

[elementstories]

Crystal Berry

I am lattices of hydrocarbons. Three elements: oxygen, carbon, and hydrogen. I first started as a single molecule, a ring that contained the strained bonds of touchy carbon groups with an oxygen in the ring. The odd one out, but integral. More molecules added, layer after layer until I grew detectable by the same radiation that gives my home life.

 Further lattaces built around me until I am large enough to refract light in many directions. I am ready.

 The ground rumbles, my home and bearer flinches and shudders me until I am loose. I fall.

 Who is that grabbing me? Is this how I continue my bearer’s legacy? A mammal biped with a generous amount of fur above the lip stuffing me in its sweaty blue covering?

 I am resigned.

[elementstories]

A Sad Horse

So damn heavy. I’ve been walking for miles and miles. And somehow the bipedal wants me to continue.

 I want my oats I’m so tired.

 At first the journey wasn’t so bad, we climbed a hill, then galloped down it. I ran us through a fast river. After a while I was hot, my muscles loose and ready to spring into a headlong dash. But know after the sun circled us 3 times I’m just cold and sore.

 Dear biped, please let us rest. I need oats. A rub down? My legs are shaking, and I cannot feel the terrain.

 Another fast river. I cannot go on I must rest.

 The water is warm.

[elementstories]

Carving Driftwood

A hunk of wood. Nappy, splintery, and stained. When that young man supplied me with it, he’s face had a tinge of nervousness. He came into my shop, placed the oddly shaped log on my counter, said: “I don’t want this,” and left. I looked down at it, shrugged. I could do something nice and creepy with this. Some eccentric buyer would eventually take it, add it to their collection of weird shit.

I took the thing back to my studio. Before I set to work I look out onto the sea. The waves were crashing violently and a wall of clouds approaching.

Very appropriate.

I begin to whittle away. What I though was stain from the water was actually the color of the wood, a gloomy dark grey. So I shaped it into a the most grotesque image I could. An elongated limb and extremities here, a frail looking abdomen there, and a evil and pained expression. I intended the sinister look but the pain just sort of occurred. I sanded rougher surfaces and eyed it again. Not bad.

I sawed the base of the underlying hunk of the wood. I snapped it off but not before it make a very pronounced creak, then snap. I sanded that part, put my tools away and closed.

When a got home I had a cup of tea and read the newspaper. I kissed my wife goodnight and hopped into bed. I feel asleep.

I felt a dull jab at my side. I opened my eyes and was wide awake. The last thing I heard was a pronounced creak, and a snap.

[elementstories]

Jane’s Air Glide.

Jane flew over glittering brassy water. The sky above her shone a pale golden rod. She could go a great distance with her wings. Sure, she fell while gliding but nothing freeing lasted for ever.

 She looked down to the water, from the reflection of the western sky and further to the gradient where the shimmering brass waves tinted to a deep dark blue. The water drew a little closer now, but it was still a while before she would have to land. The wind stroked her scalp, her hair gently tugged as if it were being brushed at once. She drew a deep breath of the clean air. She could begin to see the details of the boat.

 Her heart sank at that. Jane wished she was a bird. One with real wings not these artificial air foils. She could easily make out the shape of the life preserver on the railing. She frowned, sighed, and then leaned forward.

 The glider accelerated toward the water. Jane felt the small rush she always felt when diving. She had done this many times but the same sense of danger never truly left her. She frowned and pulled up, the glider responded and she climbed back up a ways before she slowly descended onto the boat.

[elementstories]

Charles and His Socks

Charles sat in his tent and continued to darn his socks. The sounds of battle, muffled by canvas, filled his ears. He shook his head, clenched his teeth. He stuck his thumb with the needle. Damn. The felt the ground underneath him rumble. The canvas concaved into his back and slivers of shrapnel tore holes in the fabric. He would have to darn those too.

 After his socks.

 Soft beams of red light shone through the new holes. Charles began shaking. He did not want to leave his tent. He kept sewing, closing the final hole in one and placing it into the pile of finished socks. The sound of boots stamping into gravel gradually grew. He picked up another sock.

  Charles began the final stitch of that sock. The stamping of boots became louder than ever. As he pierced the needle through the cotton, a sword pierced the canvas. Charles did not flinch, but finished the stich. He tossed the sock into the finished pile, then the soldier behind Charles, finished him