Discover and read the best of Twitter Threads about #microfiction

Most recents (15)

How did the girl who loved flowers become the royal botanist? HERE'S A STORY.

#lgbt #webfic #weblit #vss

"I will not be crowned without you," said the future queen, "except..."

The girl who loved flowers approached the abandoned far tower from the parapet, unarmed. (1/8)
Its current tenant slithered out from under the door, bloomed monstrously in front of the girl.


(The old king's botanist loved his experiments.) (2/8)
"Love," said the soon-to-be royal botanist. "True love."

Dipping and ducking its bulbous pistil, the blossom growled.


"Don't put roots down in the capitol if you want the truth. Go literally anywhere but here." (3/8)
Read 8 tweets
Another story, same characters! ALLYSHIP!

(tw: subtle homophobia mention)

#microfiction #twitterfic #wlw #lgbt #fiction

The girl who became the royal botanist and the girl who became queen had been friends since childhood. They knew each other as sisters did— (1/6)
—that is, they read each other as easily as a scholar reads a text in his field.

So that day, the future queen leaned in to whisper, "What's happening that has your face so hard?"

(For her shy friend who loved flowers was typically quick to grin, to giggle.) (2/6)
The girl who loved flowers told her.

"Ah," said the future queen. "Is that all?"

"Not all! Where I'm from, it's...incorrect."

"Not so here. You've seen it! Love is freer than the wind. Although my father used to say it was about as capricious—" (3/6)
Read 6 tweets
(tw: suicide attempt)

#microfiction #twitterfic #drabble

The royal botanist awoke. Her eyes were dry as she watched the stony ceiling. It would take time before the extract passed through her, before she would regain the ability to move her extremities.

She had failed. (1/11)
First, the queen visited, and the castellan, and all the royal messengers, and even the cook who had never wanted much to do with her. That was nice.

In a few days the botanist could turn her neck. Through the window, she sought stars, found none. (2/11)
Stringy, gut-like clouds passed over the castle nightly, lit by the moon but obscuring every constellation the chief guard had taught her.

Ah, the chief guard—

Perhaps it was well and good the botanist couldn't see the stars. (3/11)
Read 11 tweets
Part 3 of this series on writing #microfiction emerges from the misty woods at first light. It yawns, stretches, then lopes off into the wilds of the internet, wary, but expectant.

How to Write Microfiction #3: (Don't) Begin at the beginning


#nononovember #thewritestuff
Microfiction occupies ground somewhere between short story and anecdote. You’re taking your reader on a journey through a world you create, but it’s also vital to hook their emotions and leave them saying “wow” or “hrm.” No one likes a story that dribbles away at the end.
Since wordcount is limited, though, you’ve got to be clever with how you cast your line.

A great tactic is starting in media res. Beginning in the middle (or end) means the details given as the story progresses illuminate context, character & conflict without exposition.
Read 9 tweets
"The Last Bivouac," a #GreyDawn #microfiction. In which Chloë Logan visits an old Union Army comrade in Somerset County.

(cw survivor guilt)
Summit Township, Pennsylvania
Autumn 2026

It's a long drive west from Philadelphia, and thank God that my wife is here. I'm decently skilled in driving, but not nearly as good as she, and in these rural and mountain roads, better Leigh handle driving than me.
We chatted idly, off and on, till around when we switched seats at the North Midway Service Plaza. From there, after passing through the Somerset County Seat, the modern world seems to fall away. Far enough south and we encountered Old Order Mennonites driving horse carts.
Read 24 tweets
"Never, Forever:" A #GreyDawn #microfiction thread. #lesfic #amwriting #civilwar

In which the last survivor of Buford's division, timeslipped to the 21st century, returns to that hallowed ground.
12 September 2021
Gettysburg, Pennsylvania

Where can I even begin, to do justice to the feelings that well in my heart on being on this hallowed ground? How can I even express what it means-- will I ever be heard, if I even essay to do so?
In a sense, I suppose it is moot to ponder such things. After all, I've come here to speak to a gathering at one of the liveliest bookstores in town, to discuss my memoir, and to share reminiscences of this and the rest of my war for abolition and union.
Read 31 tweets
Okay so. #thread for this concept, working title Broadway Demons.

It starts with a bit of real history and goes from there.
During the Great War, Fr. Francis Duffy of the 69th Infantry Regiment met a soldier in his unit, an Armenian-American, who was "Irish by abbreviation" ("Father Duffy's Story," page 66). This is the soldier's one mention in the entire memoir.
This will be a #microfiction thread, just fyi!
Read 31 tweets
Stormy Night: 1/20
Thunder cracks to the east. Local cops are streamin' in and out of the peep show here on 57th. Beat guys, not CSI. Just as likely to screw up my crime scene as not. But they've got a job to do. I'm sure they'll do their best.
#20TweetTales #Noir #Fiction
Stormy Night: 2/20
I've got a job to do too, to bad I have to wait for my new partner. Already ten minutes late. Haven't heard much about Agent Lance Popescu, but if this is how he does things... Let's just say I'm not sure how well we'll get along.
#20TweetTales #Noir #Fiction
Stormy Night: 3/20
The moon pokes out from behind the cloud cover, bright and silvery, but my eyes are still pulled to that corner window on the third floor. Splattered red, and enough of it to make things pretty clear. Someone died, horribly.
#20TweetTales #Noir #Fiction
Read 21 tweets
Clarice: 1/20
The woman stared at the lights emblazoned on the building. It was just a name, but somehow it wasn't fair a building could have a name and she didn't. But then, she thought a lot of things weren't fair.
#Scifi #Noir #Microfiction #TwitFic #20TweetTales #Flashfiction
Clarice: 2/20
Smoke wafted from the cigarette, creating a pale wisp of white in the dark night. She exhaled, dispersing the wisp in a balloon of gray. Again, she tried to think back, to remember the day before. And again, there was nothing.
#20TweetTales #Scifi #Fiction
Clarice: 3/20
Carlo had told her that there was no record of her, that her DNA was not in the planetary registry, nor fingerprints or photos or anything else. For all intents and purposes, she really didn't exist. She was a non-person, a ghost.
#20TweetTales #Scifi #Fiction
Read 21 tweets
Courier: 0/20
Like #FlashFiction? Check out this #SciFi story told across 20 tweets!
I have a particular love for dark and gritty art with rough strokes. Ivan Khotenov's Sk_15 fits that perfectly.
#20TweetTales #SciFi #Fiction
Courier: 1/20
Over Talis' shoulder, the storm spanned the horizon. Thick, dark clouds of sand reached up to blot the searing sun from the sky. This wall of death stretched up more than a mile. Her death, if she didn't get out of the Razorsand Sea.
#20TweetTales #SciFi #Fiction
Courier: 2/20
Jefa's dying screams echoed in her head, even as she gunned the runnerbike and took off. On Toxous' order, she'd been fed to an acidworm for some perceived slight on his part. Seeing her lover's flesh disolve made Talis want to vomit.
#20TweetTales #SciFi #Fiction
Read 22 tweets
Runner: 0/20
It's time for another #20TweetTales. Started on this story a while ago, and finally finished it. This is inspired by Alex Ichim's military piece, Runner.
#Scifi #Fiction #Microfiction #TwitFic #flashfiction
Runner: 1/20
The creak echoed through the clearing as Private Tull shoved open the engine access hatch. A blast of steam washed over him and he cursed. The hydrocapacitor was shot. That meant that runner wasn't going anywhere until he fixed it.
#20TweetTales #Scifi #Fiction
Runner: 2/20
"Whassa matter, Private NULL? That big-ass head ain't got enough brains t'fix a little runner?" Corporal Daught strolled by chuckling, an armload of comm-cable in hand. Tull bit his tongue to keep from spitting back a snarky comment.
#20TweetTales #Scifi #Fiction
Read 22 tweets
@LAMcGinnis1520 @JMorgynWhite “What are you doing?” She struggled to keep an edge in her voice. She’d missed him, missed them…even if his position forbade associating with witches.

Kerry lifted a hand to brush her cheek. He waited, never taking his eyes from hers.
#denimag #midnightwritersclub #microfiction
@LAMcGinnis1520 @JMorgynWhite She couldn’t move away; truth be told, she wanted their spark again. So she dipped her head, and his touch was a sweeter comfort than she remembered.

“I’m getting what I came for,” he answered in a voice like honey.
#denimag #amwriting #microstory #writingcommunity
@LAMcGinnis1520 @JMorgynWhite Cupping her neck, he pulled her forward. She went like the fireflies in the dark, breathing into the kiss, relishing his lips on hers.

Then something burning cold wrapped her wrist. Magic, shackling her to the spot.
#denimag #amwriting #microstory #WritingCommunity #amwriting
Read 3 tweets
Tonight is the #denimag #smutfest
Voted on & decided by popular opinion this installment features A Deceitful Knight & Witch. Watch this thread for the next couple of hours & decide their fates... #amwriting #writingcommunity #microfiction #slapdashsat #CYOA #midnightwritersclub
Serane walked in shadow, counting the sidewalk cracks. At twenty-six she stopped. An odd way to find the thread tied to the door, but old magic was quirky. She leaned on the brick wall of the building feeling #vestiges of the terratracker she was here to dispel. #vss365 #denimag
Read 4 tweets
Lil #microfiction challenge... each RT I'll write about an enchanted weapon or item. owo

#asmallfiction #dnd
@zanderjeanCC This two-handed sword has a blade of thin crystal, the metal forged around it it just to hold the blade itself. Once its true name is spoken, it glows with an unearthly light that can dazzle opponents. It's a zwei-zander, if you will.
@empyreanSpartan For ages, the Hammer of Hyramdath (pronounced with a trill and a short second A) was considered an indestructible ornament--it was scaled for a titan's hands. When the moon is full, it points its haft like a compass, waiting for its master.
Read 20 tweets
In an ordinary town, on an ordinary street, there is an ordinary house. A little older than any other house, but ordinary, nonetheless. If you passed this house you wouldn’t think twice about it. In fact, you wouldn’t think about it all.


Unless she wanted you to think about it.
If she wanted you to see the house, you would. You would want to go to this house and you would want to walk up to the door.

Read 15 tweets

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