#SMALLTALES

#SmallTales is a weekly micro-fiction competition hosted by @LiterallyGeeked 100 words or less Submit here, through #smalltales on Twitter, or on the facebook before 19:00 GMT every Monday Winner picks next week's theme. We're working hard on the YouTube channel, an ebook, and a live event so follow us everywhere to keep up to date. Practise your storytelling skills by doing a reading for the #SmallTales YouTube channel! We happily accept all submissions.

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[small-tales]

Waste #smalltales @Domdotcom

Me and the boys found her on the valley floor, dappled in the leaf-light, droplets of dew beginning to dribble down her cheek. It was a cool June morning, not too cold to be out and about, but still too early for the flies, so me and the boys had the place to ourselves. Less than a mile away her parents hadn’t slept, and they were beginning their second leaden hearted day questioning themselves – had her seventeen years of life really come to nothing ? To a beetle though, nothing is nothing. We got to work.

[small-tales]

The Hunt for Higgs’ Bos’n: XV, for #smalltales @seanfsmith

When I came to, the hangover was hitting harder than the headwound. I could feel that I was cuffed to a chair – we stared out into the gaping maw of open quarry.

Digits? I’d waste that fucker for playing this game. Though this was a little brutish…

Pebbles dropped like my chances of a good morning’s sleep, clanging off the quarry wall with an echo weaker than a hooker’s waistband.

“Long time, Kurt.”

“Don’t sound like a dead man, Al. Last I heard your throat was cut this morning.”

“You ought to watch your news outlets. We need to talk.”

[small-tales]

The Thief of Time – A WASTE story for #SmallTales @AlexWattsEsq

Long day? Thought so. But you’re wrong about why. It’s not your mood. It’s not subjective. It’s –

Think about all the days you’ve wasted, all the time you’ve killed, waiting for something to come along. Squandered afternoons when you really should have been getting on with…the housework; that project; calling your mum.

That time has to go somewhere. It’s there for you to fill. And if you don’t then you should know that it will find you.

That Friday that goes on forever and the weekend never comes? Those are all your wasted hours, coming back to waste you.

[small-tales]

Waste #Smalltales @dafinchinator

“Escuchame–don’t you dare waste this. Your papi and I didn’t travel this far for you to daydream and throw this away. Ya?”

“Claro, Mami.”

“English!”

“Of course, Mother.”

“That’s my Mira.”

But she was afraid, so during recess, while the gringos played and chatted, Mira hid in the book alcove, listening to her teacher make a phone call.

“So, I’ve got an illegal immigrant to deal with… I know! I’m not an a language teacher and I have 24 students already… It absolutely will end in disaster. She’ll fall behind, act out, drop out… Integrating these kids, it’s just a waste.”

[small-tales]

Waste @PerksObeingMeh #smalltales

We kneel before an altar lit by two candles.    "I don't understand why you've brought me here. It's all... just a fairytale to me," I mutter. Hanna has been trying to "save me," or whatever, ever since we'd met in college 5 years ago. I love her, but I gave up on God years ago.    "Just, wait. I have to tell you something and I wanted to do it here," Hanna answers.    "Your church? Why? Look, you're not going to change my mind. You're wasting your-"    Hanna faces me, taking my hands. "I have cancer, Kara. I'm going to die."

[small-tales]

Waste #smalltales @sophiedanau

It comes from downstairs: Yoohoo! Wake up! My eyes respond by squeezing shut. My ears heard the call, but the rest of my body pretends it hasn’t heard anything. Undeniably the sun has been up for a while, even in this definite state of sleep I know this to be true. I try to guess the time. I bet the hour hasn’t even reached double-digits yet. What monster expects me to wake in the single-digit hours? Muffled footsteps on the bedroom carpet. It’s almost noon dear, if you don’t get up now you’ll have wasted the whole day. How foolish.

[small-tales]

#SmallTales – The Remembrance of the Creators (Waste) @baboonicorn

“Hear a tale, my boy, not often told, of how the Creators in Their wisdom made the world. Pluck’d from the heavens, the brightest shining stars; They put their light into our eyes so that we might see. They made the land from Their own bodies, and the seas from Their tears of joy at their creation. Before long, all that was left was their waste, stinking, foul and depraved, and from that filth, the First Men shaped their gods, to whom we give praise and obeisance to this day. The Creators, beneath and all around us, lie forgotten.”

[small-tales]

Waste (2) #SmallTales @Glitter_Brawl

The bin liners stick to my hands and shins. I've no idea whether or not the clothes in them are clean; all I know is that they're mine. The sweltering July sun begins to rise in a room that used to be ours. Nothing has that label now. You are on the bed, crying. I pack hastily, clumsily. I need to leave before the cocktail of guilt and exhilaration makes me sick. In a few days the life we spent eight years building will have been erased; consigned to a series of memories. I'm yet to decide whether they are ones I wish to keep. I'm sorry for wasting your time.

[small-tales]

Poundland #SmallTales @SoosieTweets

June is actually the cruelest month. She teases me into a lilac summer dress then tricks the cardie from my back. I’ll show you fear in a thin cotton dress caught in town in a thunder storm. I head to the brown fog of Costa. To sit it out, write my smalltales words. And there a wise woman divines from her window seat throne; without cards & over a cake spilling cream, it’ll soon pass. Except it doesn’t. I’ll have to go to the pound shop for some inner peace and a brolly that probably won’t even last the journey home.

[small-tales]

WASTE @MonkeySpangles #SmallTales

You call it a waste of a life; I prefer ‘noble self-sacrifice’. You hurry your kids past the door of my squat, but you should bring them in, give them the tour; show them what chronic addiction looks like, and smells like. My reality is your best defence against them following this path, but you cloak me in mystery and euphemism, and it leaves them wondering. You hate me, but you need me. I am a cautionary tale come to life, if only you knew how to tell it.

[small-tales]

The Hunt for Higgs’ Bos’n: XIV, for #smalltales @SeanFSmith

Time I left Roy’s, my head was a swirl of liquor and the lattice of leads stabbed harsh into my temple. Figured that’s what brought the frown until I noticed that I was staring at the open hood of my car.

I kept nothing in it – but the lever is beneath my dashboard.

I took a few steps towards it like wading through shit and placed my hand on the wing. Empty darkness.

My vision blacked out before I registered the blow.

My head reeled as if falling back but I could feel strong arms tipping me into the trunk.

https://archaism.wordpress.com/2015/06/01/the-hunt-for-higgs-bosn-xiv-for-smalltales/

[small-tales]

The Hunt for Higgs’ Bos’n: XIII #smalltales @SeanFSmith (Prev. Comp.)

She sat with her back to the room, curled brown hair trapped loosely beneath a scarlet beret. Vicious red nails on bone-white cigarette; long, deep draws into delicate smoke rings.

As I crossed the floor, her chiselled calf pushed a chair aside for me to sit. I sat beside her. We each watched the leather back wall of the booth.

“Mr Ansa. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Who are you?”

“That’s not important right now. But you can call me… Awely. Miss Awely.”

“Why are you following me?”

“There’s a ship, Kurt. Well, a derelict. Out beyond the third buoy.”

https://archaism.wordpress.com/2015/05/18/the-hunt-for-higgs-bosn-xiii-for-smalltales/

[small-tales]

Point of View (Hood) #SmallTales @AlexWattsEsq

The spokesman’s face shone under the studio lights.

“This administration is in no way opposed to legitimate protest. In fact the activities of this so-called ‘folk hero’ undermine the worthwhile activities of community leaders”

“And how is that, Sheriff?”

“The Outlaw – and that’s what he is! – has used…essentially branding…to portray himself as an activist working for Sherwood. In reality, Robin is a member of the landed gentry pursuing a regressive campaign to steal the taxes of hard working families for himself.”

The studio doors burst open. An arrow hit the camera.

“Not again” sighed the Sheriff. “GUARDS!”

https://xanderwatts.wordpress.com/2015/06/01/point-of-view-a-hood-story-for-smalltales/

[small-tales]

#SmallTales Hood @PerksOBeingMeh

Knockknock.  "Come in, little red. I've been expecting you."  The girl opened the door to her grandma's room, lifting her hood and letting it slid back from her head. "Hello grand...." She stopped in the doorway, squinting. "Grandma? Is that you?" She asked.  "Why of course it's me!" Her grandma sat up in her little bed, reaching her arm out to her granddaughter. "Now come here, give me a hug."  "But Grandma... What big ears you have! And... Is that hair?" the girl asked, hesitating and squinting hard. "Wolf! You're a wolf!"  "You stupid girl. Put your glasses on."

http://hello--carly.weebly.com/hood.html