#microfiction

[postalvalhalla]

Princess Gnarlo's Bargain 13

"I'd feel better," said Raven, "if I could transform Mr. Orc back to himself…."

"He's just some random orc from my dungeon," replied Setsuna. "Why do you care?"

"Some random orc?" the bunny girl blurted out. "My name's Gorg! I've got a wife and children!"

Setsuna rolled her eyes. "Oh, very well. I suppose you need to see how to undo the transformation as well…."

Raven waved her hand. "Become yourself!" she said, and the bunny girl was once again an orc.

[rj-drive-in]

Warts And All Department:

After all, the purpose of college is to expand your horizons.

AT THE MOLEHILLS OF MADNESS © 2026 by Rick Hutchins

“These things are driving me nuts,” said Melissa.

Reclining on her mattress, Dominique looked up from the Wiki page on her iPad to see her roomie stretching out the neckline of her spaghetti-strap top and looking down at her chest.

“Your boobs are driving you nuts?”

“No,” she said. “These little moles that keep popping up all over the place.”

Dominique frowned and put her device aside. “Moles are popping up? What do you mean?”

“I’ve gotten five new moles over the last couple of weeks.”

“That’s concerning. Are they changing size or color?”

“No, that’s not what’s driving me nuts.”

“When did you first notice them?”

“The first one of them popped up right after the first time me and Angela went to kiss the Weird Toad.”

“Jesus, not Angela the Goth? What is the Weird Toad? Is that one of those things where you lick a frog and get high?”

“No, it’s a big toad that lives in a tunnel behind the pond in back of the soccer field. Angela found it.”

“A tunnel? What kind of tunnel?”

“There’s an old knee-high stone arch in the side of a little hill and a stone tunnel and a little cave with stone pillars. It’s like an ancient ruin for midgets. The Weird Toad sits on a kind of altar at the back. He’s about the size of a milk crate.”

“And you and Angela the Goth decided to go kiss the toad.”

“She dared me to. She’s already been doing it.”

“And you’ve been going back?”

Melissa shrugged. “It’s nice. But every time I kiss the Weird Toad I end up with a new mole somewhere.”

Dominique shivered with revulsion. “As sick as all this is, you don’t get moles from toads any more than you get warts from frogs.”

Melissa shrugged again. “It’s happening, and they’re driving me nuts.”

“Driving you nuts how? Are they painful or itchy?”

“No, they feel fine. It’s the sounds they make. They’re like earworms all over my body.”

Dominique frowned. “Girl, you are really starting to freak me out. What do you mean the sounds they make?”

“Take the first one, for example. It appeared on my left boob the day after my first time in the tunnel.” She lifted her spaghetti-strap top off over her head and dropped it on the floor.

“And there’s the boobs,” said Dominique, putting her hand over her eyes.

“Come on, come on, look.”

Dominique sighed and looked. There was a big black mole just beside Melissa’s left nipple.

“This one,” said Melissa, “sounds like the red lava pools on a craggy black planet in the Pleiades.”

“Say what now?”

“And the next two….” She dragged a chair up beside Dominique’s bed and sat down, putting her bare feet up on the mattress.

“And there’s her feet,” said Dominique, rising to a cross-legged sitting position to get away from them.

“This one,” said Melissa, pointing to the one on her right instep, “sounds like the long slow thoughts of the deep mud on the floor of the Mariana Trench. And this one,” she said, touching the one above her left big toe, “sounds like the infra-green static spoken by a primeval moss in the upper Amazon.”

Dominique swallowed nervously. “I don’t hear anything,” she said quietly.

“Well, duh,” said Melissa. “You’re not inside me.”

“We should take you to the campus clinic.”

“I’m not done.” She stood up and pulled down her distressed denim shorts and leopard-print panties.

“Not in my face, please!” shouted Dominique, leaning back and looking at the ceiling.

“And this one,” Melissa pointed to the black mole next to her landing strip, “this one sounds like the ice snakes on Pluto. It gives me chills. But that’s not the worst one.”

Dominique slowly lowered her eyes to look. “Which one is the worst one?”

Melissa sat down and leaned forward, sticking out her tongue so far that the tip touched her chin, revealing another large black mole right between sweet and salty. “Thith un!”

“Aaand what’s the problem with that one?”

Melissa drew her incredibly long tongue back into her mouth. “It talks to me. It tells me to do things. It gives me commands.”

Sitting up straight and taking a deep breath, Dominique asked, “What exactly does it tell you to do?”

Melissa reached out and took Dominique by the ears, pulling her closer. Dominique opened her mouth to protest and Melissa went for the French kiss. The two girls froze for a long, silent moment, and then Melissa pulled slowly away.

“See what I mean?”

Dominique pursed her lips, moving her mouth around, tasting, nodding. “I hear bells,” she said. “Ancient iron bells on the shore of an algae ocean.”

“What are we going to do?”

“We’re going to go visit the Weird Toad,” said Dominique.

[postalvalhalla]

Princess Gnarlo's Bargain 12

Raven's eyes grew wide. "Did I do that?" she asked.

"Indeed you did!" replied the goddess. "Now, this specific transformation is immune to any counter spells; only you can undo it. THAT should keep your bullies in line!" She paused, then added, "Also, I think it's time for a third tail!" Before Raven could reply, she snapped her fingers; the wolfkin girl now had three tails.

"But I don't want…" Raven began.

"Oh, but you DO," said Setsuna. "You will be MUCH better at magic now!"

[emeraldstarzz]

What if Fairy Tales Exist?

Wary and weary,

Our scarred and scared hearts,

Buried neath the rumble

of a dragon’s lair.

“Do not trust; think twice

before you jump.

Monsters; they’re monsters,”

They whisper to us.

But maybe the monster

in front of me.

Is wondering and judging,

And fears I’m the monster they see.

And maybe the speck of glitter

on the street is gold.

And maybe the Beast deserved

The Beauty’s love.

The glass slipper might truly fit,

The frog might turn into a prince.

Perhaps the hand I can see,

Is reaching out to help not hit.

So hush, hush now,

Let me have faith and hope.

Let me believe,

Let me dream.

[writingamongther0ses]

Stuck Inside My Head

Hi! A piece about anxiety for @flashfictionfridayofficial's prompt!

You need to double-check.

No. You did it correctly. You're doing your job. Even if you mess up, which you didn't, they won't be mad. They trust you.

But what if you did mess up? What if they hate you for it? What if they fire you?

For something small like that? Besides, I know the rules. It would only be my first strike. They would talk to me first.

But what if they didn't tell you? What if they've secretly been keeping track of your mess-ups and haven't been telling you? What if this is the edge and they hate you for it?

Then they would be in trouble.

Really? Do you really have the energy to do something if they did break the rules?

...No.

Exactly! So you need to double-check.

...Fine. Just in case.

[possiblyastronautsproductions]

Sometimes you get isekai'd into your bedtime stories. It happens. On occasion. Right?

Eloise and the Island

What happens to bedtime stories when you grow up?

[itsevanffs]

A city is like a corpse.

Dead-eyed and glassy skyscrapers standing motionless, cars skittering like bugs over the road, slowly tearing it away with each pass. Yellowing and greying, producing putrid waste, deep, dark veins blooming over time, spreading, growing outwards. A city bloats, like a corpse does, then wastes away, growing caverns and grooves, tearing apart and repurposing itself. Decomposition.

Have you ever seen flies scattering from a carcass?

How about a car driving through a roadside puddle?

[lunardreams54]

Slowly now, but with strength

Marinette walked to her garden to make amends. She stepped on the cold ground with bare feet. She moved her legs on the grass. She walked to the roses and cut off the thorns, so she would no longer feel the pain. She pulled the lilies from the ground so she could no longer go to the cemetery that was her heart. She walked to the daisies and removed the petals, so she could no longer count on the love that let her down.

Finally, she took an axe and cut down the apple tree that occupied her garden. She threw away the naked branches and chopped this tree into small pieces, to match the number of misplaced pieces in her soul. She took the wood into her home and started a fire.

Putting the fragments of her into a fireplace. She arranged everything and lighted a match. She watched the flames blaze and started to breathe. Staring at the memories that dragged her down, turn into ash. And as the smoke lifted to the chimney and floated to the sky, she let it fly high and reach the dark clouds that took permanent residence in her mind. She stared at that smoke that would clear her soul, body, heart, and mind.

She waited for the rain to erase the bad in her life. And as the first drops felt down from the sky above, banging on the roof, she felt her chest rise and fall. Her heart once again beating in rhythm. And through the glass she stared, marveling at the night sky. Watching the clouds clear, and at last noticing the moon. Its light glow showing her the way, guiding her to someone she once was. No longer stuck in the dark and cold. But with moonbeams on her skin and light in her fibers.

Strong enough to start the healing process. To begin anew.

One day at a time, until she was human again.

___

Originally posted by me on theprose.com

Anarosewood