Tag: story

Sealed with a curse

Day 21: Dear
No Novel November 2019

A single gold going with a skull - how to draw coin by sephiroth art via Deviant Art

“Dear You! It’s your lucky day! You have been sent the Lucky Coin of Antioch! Guaranteed to grant your wishes! NO TRICKS OR CATCHES! Just make a copy of this letter and send the coin to the first person in your contacts list IMMEDIATELY after you make your third wish! Do this and your life will be good FOREVER! Follow the rules or YOU WILL DIE!”

With shaking hands, I drop the tarnished silver coin into the envelope. The address on the front is barely legible, but I’ve got to believe it’ll make it.

A violent coughing fit forces me to stop on the way to the mailbox, and the blood on my hands draws stares from passersby. Let them stare. All that matters is this letter—my only chance at redemption.

I stumble turning to go back into my apartment. A stranger catches me, flinching at the icy chill of my hands. “You alright, mister?” he asks.

I clutch him tightly, my dry eyes wild, wishing for the pain to end, for death to come with its sweet release, but knowing it won’t. Not until that letter is delivered.

My voice comes out in a hiss dry as paper. “Don’t…break…the chain….”

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.

Don’t stop

Day 20: Convoy
No Novel November 2019

Line of abandoned cars in a field - Abandoned cars - Car graveyard in Blanding Utah - Topher

They drove until they ran out of gas.
They walked until their feet blistered.
They camped until they were found.
They fought until their strength failed.
They died until they rose 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.

Must be this tall to ride

Day 19: Ruler
No Novel November 2019

Black and white photograph of a metal rollercoaster - Rollercoaster by spungleah via Deviant Art
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

He’s nauseated before he even sets foot inside. The entire ride there Jake complained so loudly that Dad almost turned the car around, but an elbow from his sister shut him up. No way she’d let him ruin her fun.

They pass through the archway as Jake’s having flashbacks to last year’s debacle. Dazzled by the lights of the midway and high on funnel cake, he’d rushed alongside his sister to the battleground where he met his nemesis—and lost.

This time, Mom has to bribe him with cash to get him to cross the row of food trucks that provides the last safe barrier between him and another round of shame and defeat.

“Just try. That’s all I ask,” she cajoles. Momspeak for “do it or else.”

Face hot, he shuffles forward, eyes on the dusty ground.

The man in the candystripe jacket chuckles when Jake bumps into him. “Whoa, there, son. First thing’s first.”

Jake groans but lets himself be guided to the gate. He squeezes his eyes shut, preparing for the fatal pronouncement.

“You’re good to go. Hop on.”

Jake’s eyes snap open. “Wh-what?”

“C’mon, kid, the line’s backing up.”

He looks from the ride operator to his smiling mother to the vertical ruler behind him: four feet on the dot.

Brimming with sudden adrenaline, Jake screams with delight as he leaps into the rollercoaster’s front car and doesn’t stop until long after the ride ends. Victory! 

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.

Special collections

Day 18: Susurrus
No Novel November 2019

A girl in a library with magical glowing books - The reader by charlie bowater via Deviant Art

The dry, gentle rustle of pages accompanies me as I pass through the stacks. I’m new; the books aren’t used to me yet. They bluster inside their heavy covers, jump skittishly when I touch their spines, resist when they’re reshelved and their chains locked. But I ignore their spiteful susurrus and go about my duties: dusting and polishing, feeding and watering, grooming and reassuring.

By sunset, they begin to settle. I draw the curtains and tuck thick velvet blankets between their bookends, humming lullabies as I go. One hand on the door, I blow out the final candle and bid them goodnight. I tiptoe away, already anticipating the morning. Perhaps tomorrow will be the day they accept me as their Librarian.

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.

Throw away the key

Day 17: Keyhole
No Novel November 2019

He’ll be furious when he finds out. But the cocktail of drugs she mixed into his coffee that morning will ensure that won’t be until she’s long gone.

She dangles her toes into the freezing lake water, relishing the change from the stifling house. The floating dock sways gently beneath her. The motion is smooth and calming—so unlike the way she’s been handled these past three years. She feels as if she could fall asleep here. Not that she will. It’s going to be a long time before she’s safe enough to rest anywhere.

The key beeps again, a warning that it’s too far from its biometrically-bonded owner. From him. She pulls the thing out of her pocket, admiring its unique cross-section, watching the blue lights flicker. Such a small thing. So fragile. So cruel.

Without allowing herself a chance to change her mind, she launches the key in a high arc that ends neatly in the center of the lake.

As it sinks, the hole in her chest starts to burn. The device inside is overheating, melting the microfilaments and nanochips that bind her to him. Perfect fingernails snap on the wooden dock as she silently endures the pain. A distant part of her wonders why they’d program that in; a different part has no such questions.

And then it’s over. It’s done.

She breathes in shakily as a smile twitches on her lips. Never again can anyone else have control over her heart—she’s free. 

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.