Five Microtales

By S.J.



These five bite-size tales have little to do with one another, save that each is exactly 100 words and that I decided to group them together. It's a fun format, and one I might return to in the future. 


A Stone

 A child had thrown it, and lonely fell the stone. 


Through the well’s watery depths, among its siblings entrapped in mortar.

Into the dirt, to watch the fallen leaves float above it, by the light of the distant sun. 

To wait there, as the seasons turned. As the water vanished. As the well returned to dust. 


As the sun went out.

 

To sit in darkness as the last light is suffocated. To witness entropy’s triumph.


To witness all return to one, to be the needle point of the singularity. 


To finally expand, to be again a stone.


To be thrown.     


--


Those Baleful Colors


It seems to me that the world should be gray. 


I lay on my cot and watch the blueness of my arteries through my translucent skin, and I curse it. I stand on parade and watch the gleam of the commissar’s badge, the dance of לאruddy autumn leaves as they float in pools of turgid waste.

 

Each day the siren wakes me, and my soul dies anew. But the world remains, far too alive in its indifference. Why should it be so? By what right should there still be colors, music, and a life beyond? 


Why must I die alone?  


--

 At the Foot of the Throne


I sat at the foot of the throne as my master was taking his final breaths. 

Anaferanus IV was an old man, and few would have mourned him even if he was young. The noblemen waiting for his declaration of heir sure weren’t heartbroken.

. 

The ancient geezer wheezed and coughed as he tried to get through his speech, but thankfully thought better of it and decided to finally get to the point. 


“And so, though I know my choice may seem unorthodox, I declare Faranes, my loyal seneschal, as heir to the empire.”


The bastard must’ve known I poisoned him.


--


Grace


It was nearly dawn, and I couldn't sleep. Not for the first time.


The fields behind my house, cold and fallow, became my haunting grounds. My feet made no sound as I walked, perhaps afraid to dispel the strange sanctity of the lonely hour. The stars spilled forth the light of distant days. I wondered, and not for the first time, if I could've been less broken beneath it, so many billions of miles and years away.


Unlikely.


Soon the day will come and I shall return to my waking sleep. Until tomorrow, when silence will grace me once more. 


--


After Triumph  


I had done it. 


After years of lying, scheming, backstabbing and a fair amount of front-stabbing too, the city was mine.


The mayoral office, I had to admit, wasn’t quite so grand as I imagined it to be. The desk was nice enough - whole oak, pre-Reconstruction, subdued and tasteful - but all the rest left much to be desired. There was mold behind the liquor cabinet, mold! 


But it doesn’t matter. The important thing is that now I finally have the power I have always desired. Now I can destroy my enemies - wait, already done that- well, now I-


Now what?  


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