no novel november – Page 8

Nothing to See Here

Day 4: Nothing
No Novel November 2019

Polymer clay sculpture of a sideshow carnival magician with cards, white dove, and white rabbit - The Magician 4 by wingdthing via DeviantArt

“Any volunteers?”

Several hands shot up from the crammed benches in front of the ramshackle stage. The carnival had arrived at its final stop, and the crowd had showed up with first-night enthusiasm. Everybody loves a big finish. And Mister Mysterio, Master of Magic and Mysticism, intended to give them one.

“Yes, you! The lady with the intriguing hat. Come right up. Don’t be shy.”

The volunteer tiptoed up to the platform where Mysterio took her hand with exaggerated chivalry and walked her to an oversized box festooned with patchy stars.

“And now, Miss…Sandra, thank you…Miss Sandra will enter the Shadow Box where I shall make her disappear!”

Sandra giggled nervously and stepped inside.

Mysterio rolled his shirtsleeves to the elbow. “Nothing up my sleeve.” He took off his worn bowler. “Nothing under my hat.” He stomped on the boards. “Nothing under the stage.” Then he bowed to the lady and closed the door with a click.

With a flourish of his wand, the magician tapped three times on each wall of the box. There was a sound like blowing a bubble in reverse, then he turned the knob and opened the door.

The only thing inside was an evaporating green mist.

The crowd erupted, and Mysterio luxuriated in the applause. But when he headed offstage rather than back to the box, the cheers turned to angry murmurs.

“Ah, ah,” he chided, wagging a white-gloved finger. “I promised to make her disappear. I never said anything about bringing her back.”

This story is part of No Novel November, a daily microfiction challenge. If you'd like to know more and/or join in, click here.

Flight & Fixation

Day 3: Window
No Novel November 2019

Black and white photo of a car driving on an empty highway at night under a sky full of stars - Night drive by theedgeofme via deviantart

FLIGHT

The scenery rolls by at a steady clip. During the day, I prop my feet on the dash, letting them bake under the windshield’s magnified sunlight. At night, I tuck them under me in the seat to keep warm. All the while staring out into the desert.

Cacti, mesas, windmills, and piñon pines dot the landscape and leave faint trails as we speed past. Glowing eyes peer from the blue-black night, pretending to be stars dipped too low in the sky.

Nothing unusual.

I don’t know where we’re going, and I’ve forgotten where we’ve been. There’s only the drive, the open window, and the pursuing bright shadow flitting behind each mile marker we pass.

Macro close up of a blue eye - Eye 7 by cantthinkof_aname via DeviantArt

FIXATION

His eyes draw me in, the depth of their blueness unrivaled by Caribbean seas, their golden flecks worthy of Midas’ jealousy. These eyes that have caressed the curves of countless women and now rest only on me. I get lost here, soaking in his unbroken gaze, reveling in being the sole focus of his attentions.

They say the eyes are the windows of the soul.

Too bad these eyes aren’t attached to one anymore.

These stories are part of No Novel November, a daily microfiction challenge. If you'd like to know more and/or join in, click here.

Hidden in Plain Sight

Day 2: Hidden
No Novel November 2019

A dark forest with a bright light at the center leading out - first light by sprocket2cog via deviant art

He emerges from the jungle overlooking a sudden valley and frowns. This isn’t what he wanted to see after three weeks of hacking through vines, subsisting on MREs and a LifeStraw.

The valley below is empty. Lush, green, vibrant with life—but empty.

It takes him an hour to skitter to the bottom where he sits on a boulder to soak in unoccluded sunlight. He’s so tired of being wet. He’s decided to move to Arizona when this is over. Which is going to be sooner than expected, given the utter lack of an ancient temple of chaos where there should be one.

After a few minutes, he sighs and glares at the valley. Might as well look around. Even if the expedition is a bust, he’s still a scientist, dammit.

He starts at the edge of the clearing and works in tightening circles, examining stones and plants. None of it is interesting, but he keeps going, mind wandering. What will he tell the department? The investors? His wife?

He falls down hard halfway to the center.

Rubbing his head, he looks around frantically, but there’s nothing. He can clearly see the rise of the jungle in front of him.

He can also see his own shadow looming over him, cast against a wall that isn’t there.

“What the—“

Before he can finish the sentence, his shadow’s black hands shoot out, clutch his shoulders, and yank him through the invisible wall.

And the valley is empty once again.

This story is part of No Novel November, a daily microfiction challenge. If you'd like to know more and/or join in, click here.

The Dragonslayer

Day 1: Permission
No Novel November 2019

I knelt before the throne with a thousand eyes heavy on my back. The point of a sword touched my shoulders once, twice, then I rose on shaking legs to meet the gaze of the king.

“As the lone Knight of the Flame, you have received this kingdom’s highest honor and also its most dreaded task. Your path leads down a perilous road to a destination from which none have returned. May you be victorious against the dread serpent. Your kingdom is depending on you. I am depending on you. Congratulations, and farewell.”

The king extended his bejeweled hand. I took it with as much strength as I dared given his advanced age, kissed the signet, and forced determination onto my face. Beneath the crown, the king’s expression was veiled, not with the formality of office but with odd tenderness. Pity, perhaps?

Before I could wonder further, he released my grip with pressing fingers. The tilt of his head warned me not to question the tiny parchment he’d left in my palm. Mind and heart racing, I tucked it into my gauntlet as I retreated from the hall.

It wasn’t until evening, loosening my armor beside the campfire after a hard day’s ride, that I remembered the note. It fluttered from my glove, tossed by the wind almost into the flames. I snatched it back, myself burning with curiosity.

I read it once, twice, then sank on shaking legs to weep.

“Dearest Daughter,
You have permission to fail.
Love, Dad.”

This story is part of No Novel November, a daily microfiction challenge. If you'd like to know more and/or join in, click here.

No Novel November: Daily Microfiction Challenge

Instead of NaNoWriMo, I’m writing one tiny story every day in November. Join me!

You’ve heard of National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo, for short)? Where you write 50,000 words of a novel in one month?

This is not that.

NoNoNovember is for people who want to write some good, good fiction but don’t have the time, energy, braincycles, or (frankly) motivation to write an entire novel.

Instead, we’re writing one very short story every day in November.

You can use the official prompts or do your own thing.

You can write about anything in any genre (except poetry, sorry), as long as it’s a story—it accomplishes something and arrives somewhere—and clocks in under 250 words.

When: November 1 to November 30
Where: Private Facebook group or email
How much: Nothing, nada, zero, FREE
Who: YOU! And me! And everyone that wants in!

Registration closes October 31 (spoOOokyyy).

Additional Details

Sharing your stories is encouraged (but not required)! Post them on social media, your website, in the group, email them to me—or don’t. It’s up to you.
Participating in the Facebook group is also encouraged (but also not required)! The group is a private, safe place where we can share our work, frustrations, and encouragement. No critiques (unless asked for) or trolls allowed.
Signing up for the email list is optional but is encouraged since it lets me communicate with you privately, and lets you know about future Write Stuff events.
In short, this is a free, open daily writing challenge, and it’s up to you how and where and why you participate. What’s most important is that you write.

Tag: no novel november