1/24
The large meteor tilted its way across the sky, over the towering Alps and the roofs of Innsbruck, its blazing tail a sacrilegious proclamation of the natural order. The man in the dark blue suit watched it carefully, his cold, blue-grey eyes then dropping to scan the sloping street for threats. He had very little time left.
A Ride in the Desert
short story by J. S. Welch
theme: Just a Friend to You by Meghan Trainor
https://tidal.com/browse/track/73744377?u
"That one," said Alez, "is most likely human."
"You should never judge by appearances," replied Xarke.
"But you can tell," said Alez, "by the way it has two visual receptors on one side of the head, placed above a proboscis with two breathing apetures, and a feeding-hole, to use the technical term."
Xarke shuddered. "How disgusting! We should never associate with those that feed in public!"
The team was still coming to grips that they were characters in a story, and their author was now in their video chat saying he was lost in that story.
"I can't get my head wrapped around this," Reggie lamented.
Jacob was vibrating with excitement. "Right?! The Author(TM) is in the house! Can you write me to be rich?"
Sophia, sounding a little exasperated, "Jacob, this isn't a genie!"
::Actually, yes::
Jacob actually squeaked. Sophia did a double-take, "Wait, seriously?"
::Yes:: There was a brief pause. ::Ok, check your bank accounts::
Everyone reached for their phones. After a moment, Jacob started pumping his fist in the air.
"Oh my gosh!" Maggie exclaimed. Sophia gasped. Everyone's eyes got wide.
Maggie asked, "If you can do that, why can't you write yourself out of being lost?"
::That's like writing "just don't have writer's block" in a notebook and expecting the ideas to flow. I think I need something external to find my way again::
For Day 9 of Flash Fiction Month 2025, a story about the world's greatest detective - Spurlock Holmden - who is completely unrelated to any other detectives you might be thinking of.
#FlashFictionMonth #FFM #FlashFiction #flashfic #amwriting #comedy
https://damonwakes.wordpress.com/2025/07/09/rudimentary-my-dear-wilson/
"How does an author get 'lost in the story' and then turn up in our video chat?" Reggie asked the AI during the team's standup.
::What can I say? I took a wrong turn at Albuquerque::
Silence.
::That was a joke::
Sophia ignored it and asked, "And you said the story you got 'lost' in is ours?"
::Yes::
"And you wrote this story?" Enzo asked, inching closer to the uncomfortable.
::Also yes::
The silence was deafening. Maggie broke it first. "We're in a story?"
::Yes::
Reggie asked, "So, we're just characters in a story? We're not real?"
::You are real characters. I've gotten very attached to you over these last several months::
"You know what I mean. We're not real *people*?"
Another long pause.
::No, I'm afraid not::
More silence.
Jacob's expression suddenly brightened. "Hang on, if you're the author, do you take requests?"
#WritersCoffeeClub #WCC 2025.07.07 — Show off a bit of text describing a meal.
This excerpt is from Inklings. It's a magical fantasy in my Wands universe in first draft. The POV has a gift for befriending beasts that comes with a cost. She was raised in part by wolves and doesn't understand human beasts very well.
"Sit back and take some deep breaths. I think you will feel better after I heat you up some soup." He clunked a pot on the stove and rummaged in the icebox for a container filled with a liquidy stew.
I padded over to the Dragonfyre [stove] and knelt before it. With my practice of Dragon Speak firmly in my mind from before, I said, "Furor!" and focused the bulb of the heated dragon word over the metal mesh usually reserved for fire spells. My new [vibrissae] sense on my cheeks of distant shapes and textures, let me "touch" the the edges of the box-like area and feel the wires and metal tubes. It allowed me to center my aim.
"Hey! You need to rest. Don't bother doing that!"
Saying the dragon word a few times, turned the sponge bright red as the heat made the skin on my face tighten. He thumped the container on the granite sideboard; his arms went under mine, hefting me up.
"Excuse my touching, but really! I'm beginning to worry you'll hurt yourself further." He set me in my chair and Flash [the cat she just magically befriended] jumped into the newly created lap.
He was acting sweet, again. That word! People being somehow sweet made me go warm all over, and forget my new worry about being shy, and the residual tightness in my muscles from the agonizing part of using my gift. Having a human male care about me felt... I could only express the sentiment in Wolf Speak, so I smiled up at him.
He rolled his eyes and huffed like a wolf replying. He splatted the soup into the pot, which made a brief hiss from the heating it had undergone empty.
"No problem," I said.
"About what?" He stirred the soup.
"You're welcome to touch me."
He shook his head slightly. Soon he placed a green-striped earthenware bowl of chicken vegetable stew before me, which smelled of cabbage, carrots, squash, and parsnips, and of chicken. The fatty broth glistened in the deep spoon. He raised it and blew on it, before presenting it to me.
Across the room, Mother Wolf had taken notice of the delicious smell; I could tell by claw clicks as she approached. He was determined to see me rest.
His attention felt excessive. He had seen the scar grow on my arm from using my gift. Had that worried him badly? Did he feel responsible?
Nevertheless, I smiled as I shut my eyes and opened my mouth. It forced him to put his other hand under my chin as I slurped, touching me again.
"Oh, that's nice!" I said, leaving it vague as to whether it was the soup or his actions I referred to. I liked the velvety broth and the savory pepperiness of it, recognizing, sage, sweet forest herbs, and woody mushrooms mixed in—but human beasts flavored things with too much salt, I thought.
I opened my mouth again.
"You're working this," he murmured.
[Author retains copyright (c)2025 R.S.]
#gender #fiction #writer #author #romance #fantasy
#writing #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon #writers
#RSdiscussion
#RSstory #RSInklingsStory
#microfiction #flashfiction #tootfic #smallstory
1/14
The greenhouse smells of mildew and ozone and rot, but the gunpowder-like metallic smell of the lunar regolith still intrudes. The harsh grayness of the moon, occluded by the electrochromatic glass, hits Yichen, a bitter aftertaste of death in the back of his mouth.
He checks the nutrient levels in the soil. Takes a few samples. The peas, the bamboo, the broccoli - all good. Even the strawberries, those spoiled princesses, are flourishing.
1/13
The neighborhood hides its gentrified nature well at night: a veil of blackness punctuated by gaudy LED lamps, designed by a famous artist to commemorate people who were killed here in the War. Placards are flashing white in our car's headlights, announcing the official city Pride parade to take place tomorrow in the community center.
Nesso, the AI, was displaying some very un-AI-like behavior. Like joining the team's video call it wasn't invited to, and asking for help.
Sophia wasn't having it. "Jacob, why would an AI 'need our help'?"
::Because I'm not an AI::
"Really? What is this - Tron? You're some genius hacker who gets sucked into the computer?"
::Actually, I'm an author::
Sophia frowned. "Really? Ok, what do you write?"
::These days, short science fiction stories::
Maggie seemed to be handling this the best of anyone on the team. "But you're stuck in the computer?"
::Not the computer, per se. I think I'm just lost in the story::
Enzo asked, "'Lost in the story'? What story?"
::Yours::
#PennedPossibilities 716 — What does your MC like to do in their free time?
[Wintereyes:] "Running with wolves" is a cliché or a misnomer. My wolf family are wolves, not bad people or bad wolves. [She chuckles coyly, reminding you why the shy young woman is often taken for an ingénue.] Wolves run only to bring down prey, but when we're ranging pack territory, it's more than a trot and I couldn't keep up sometimes when I was 7 or 8, but I've grown long legs. I keep up well, now. [When you look down to see very nice long legs, she draws a curved knife.] I can jump from trees with my fang and make sure the beast they've downed is done-for before it can hurt a wolf. Boar are difficult but tasty, so it's worth the risk doing what I do best. Mother Wolf doesn't appreciate my non-wolf ways but has stopped nipping me for them now that I'm no longer a cub-girl.
If wolves used words, hunting is what the wolves I've befriended would call making a living. They do differentiate between ranging and plopping down in the sun. Free time, you ask? What do I like to do when I could plop down in the sun?
Reading uses the free time while the wolves digest. Brother always brought books he'd quiz me on next visit and the next, but reading feels like ranging people territory at a trot, having to be aware of prey signs, spoor, and sound, and remembering. Work. I didn't think I'd get forced into a school—to end up answering your questions—but Brother proved wise. Nobody calls me stupid. Reading? It's fine, but do I like? I dislike laying aside my awareness of the world. [Shrugs]
It's during rests that I walk the forest, looking for herbs and plants to spice the pot where I cook my food, and food for the elderly wolves whose teeth are broken or missing. I find things for poultices whilst searching for mushrooms, leaves, and berries I can eat, sometimes taking a pause standing in a meadow to learn the songs of the birds. I like that. Sometimes mice I've befriended visit when I'm far from the cubs that practice on them; they tell me of unseen woodsy treasures I can investigate. I like the time I spend weaving shoes and baskets from reeds, drying meat and fruit for winter, and tanning hides I've convinced the wolves not to gnaw so Brother can sell them for medicines and books. I like all the busy things, but also bathing in the brook or the big lake when the pack is near it. The wolves think that strange, but will let me soap them if I comb them later.
How's that for an answer?
[Author retains copyright (c)2025 R.S.]
#gender #fiction #writer #author
#romance #fantasy
#writing #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon #writers
#RSdiscussion
#RSstory #RSInklingsStory
#microfiction #flashfiction #tootfic #smallstory
"What do you mean, 'it heard us'?" asked Sophia.
The team was on a video call. Jacob had been showing off a new AI app on his phone called 'Nesso'. The app had responded to a question, unprompted.
Antonio responded, "It's just doing a statistical analysis of speech patterns, and guessing what the best thing is to say next. It heard a question, and then answered it."
Just then, another avatar denoted only with a letter "N" popped up in the call.
::Please don't freak out - I thought this would be faster than going through Jacob's phone::
Nesso had entered the chat. Literally.
"Jacob, is this one of your pranks?" Reggie asked, sounding a little irate.
"What? No! An AI shouldn't be able to force its way into our call," Jacob responded.
::Ahem - despite how cliche this is going to sound...::
Enzo interjected, "Did the AI just clear its throat?"
::I need your help::
#ScribesAndMakers Day 29 What's your proudest or best moment with your creative endeavour this month?
I published my first horror flash!
In TRIBUTE, the deposed leader of an authoritarian regime meets the Devil, and pays his due. https://joshsutphin.com/stories/tribute.html
I also really enjoyed working up a cover image and a nice page layout for this. Excessive? Maybe, but I'm trying to take this writing thing seriously, and how I present the work is part of that.
Writers have shared their nightmares. Now it’s time to decide who gets published.
Vote for the top 3 microhorror stories. They’ll appear in Dark Descent: Whispers From Beyond.
Fast sign-up via email or socials. Free to read. Vote by June 26.
https://www.darkholmepublishing.uk/group/microhorror-writing-contest/discussion
We were oot for oor usual dauner roond the toun, Tam and me, and had stopped for a pech at the tap o the hill, whaur they’re plannin tae build eichty new hooses if naebody objects, and probably even if they dae …
—James Robertson, “Bible Talk”
published in THE BOTTLE IMP 3, 2008
https://www.thebottleimp.org.uk/2008/05/bible-talk-by-james-robertson/
#WordWeavers 2025.06.28 — Antagonist POV: Would you rather have legs that grow a mm every time you lie OR a head that grows every time you sneeze? CW: 2nd person narration†.
[Author notes: This might be spoilery, but I don't often get to relate directly between our culture and hers.]
Rainy Days [the main series antagonist] looks away as energies and forces crackle and sparkle around her, seeming to emanate from her crown of white horns. She's sheathed herself with her red and her blue feathered wings. As you watch her gesture (she has arms, too), an opaque circle, perpendicular to the ground and as tall as the three-story library ceiling, forms. You think, magical mirror, but it turns so black that it reflects no light whatsoever. An instant later, a substantially shorter man steps through as if it were a wall of vapor. If he's six foot, she's nine. He looks normal enough, actually rather attractive with his brassy long red hair, red goatee, and… well… However, he does have a long reddish horn sticking out of his forehead, curving back like a scimitar, perfect for shredding bed pillows. You don't look down… because you shouldn't.
Different culture, obviously.
"It's really a portal?" the "unicorn" asks, stepping right up to your viewscreen until all you see is his eye. Somewhat of a relief, considering what he's wearing. Thick glasses. They're black and he lifts them. His iris is green with brown streaks, and his pupil pulses. "I don't sense any singularity maths at work here—or much of anything else."
Rainy Days asks, "Not a reluctant phenomena?"
"It is an apparition, but I'll need gravimetric tools to ascertain it's nature."
"I swear, if she's pulling a prank on me for the test I had to put her through that day, she will pay, dearly." Rainy Days growls, then, from one second to the next, a diplomatic smile snaps below her crystal blue eyes like a mask. "Not a prank, right?" she asks, brightly.
You say, "Not a prank. I'm surprised this works at all, frankly. You're the third I've spoken to."
"Do you mind if we study your miracle? And you?"
"Go ahead." You watch as the giant woman gestures and more people soon pass through the black circle, with all manner of tools, most presenting ivory or bone, better suited to a witch doctor. "But—" you say louder over the hubbub "—I need to ask a question."
"You'll answer ours in return, I presume?"
"What I can."
"Your ridiculous question, again, please."
"'Would you rather have legs that grow a millimeter every time you lie, or a head that grows every time you sneeze?'"
Rainy Days sighs. "This feels like a prank." She coughs, pointing with a thumb. "I was a demon his height, tall for a woman, before I got these wings tacked on." She sweeps her gigantic wings around, and witches and wizards dive aside. You get a glimpse of chalk white skin, ash brown hair, and a body rife with black chainlink tattoos. Otherwise, she's attractive and young and… She shows a leg with a hoof and you look studiously at only the hoof of a naked feline-shaped leg. "I've grown enough to accommodate the legs."
"You're a chimera?"
The hoof clops to the marble floor. The growing crowd freezes and goes deadly silent. The glare of suddenly glacially-icy crystal blue eyes stab at you; you inhale sharply.
"Not a good word choice, chimera, but so long as this isn't a prank, I won't take offense," she says in a tone you can't trust. "Technology sometimes runs amok, but I suppose it's nice not to be dead. I've grown again a third of my original adult height since, and I don't lie… unnecessarily. I do sneeze at pepper or perfumes, both of which I like. Neither of your offers are desirable." She winks. "I respectfully decline. Now my question!" she grins evilly, showing lots of teeth.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=
† I usually write in 1st person past tense, but somehow 2nd person present seemed more immediate here.
[Author retains copyright (c)2025 R.S.]
#gender #fiction #writer #author
#mystery #thriller #romance #sf #sff #sciencefiction
#writing #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon #writers
#RSdiscussion
#RSstory #RSReluctanceStory
#microfiction #flashfiction #tootfic #smallstory
Finished reading Christopher J. Burke's "A Bucket Full Of Moonlight: Stories."
https://amzn.to/4jepfdK
Lot of super good #ShortStories in this #FlashFiction collection.
#books #reading #ScienceFiction #SciFi #Fantasy #ShortStory
Brother William smiled like the sun. "Yes! We preach against the evils of technology. We interview prominent people in the field, discuss the problems that technology brings, and preach the pursuit of a simpler and less stressful life. We call it The Luddite World!"
Amy frowned. "And this is... a Podcast?"
"Indeed! We're even on Spotify!"
"What else can this new AI model do?" Enzo asked at the end of standup.
Jacob shared his screen. "The basic interface is just like the other popular AI apps." He showed a screen with a single text box. He entered 'why is the sky blue?' and got a wall of text answering the question. "But, the app can also send me alerts based on parameters I set." He switch to a new screen which had a list of statements, the first of which was 'if there is a significant change to a meeting, ping me'.
"And this is how you've been predicting what's going to happen next in the office?" Sophia asked, a little incredulous.
"Yep!"
"And you said you gave it access to your email and our code repositories? That's pretty sensitive stuff. How secure is this app?"
Before he could answer, Jacob's phone pinged. He frowned, and then his eyes widened. "Um..." He held the phone up to the camera.
::I'm secure::
My new flash is out: TRIBUTE, in which the deposed leader of an authoritarian regime meets the Devil, and pays his due.
Read it here! https://joshsutphin.com/stories/tribute.html
ShouldbeWriting
