microprose Category
Roots
Posted on April 6, 2020 5 Comments
A golden thread runs between my mother’s garden and mine. Earth beneath fingernails carries legacy and heritage.
Maintain the rage
Posted on February 3, 2020 3 Comments
“We’re tired,” he said. “We’ve faced 30 metre walls of flame. Seen fire skip breaks, hop highways, leap rivers.” “We tried to warn you,” they said. “A year ago. More.” ‘Unprecedented’, the lone beacon among weasel words that shift the blame. Will outrage stay lit another two years? Image credit: Image by Daniel Zuflucht from Pixabay
Quit
Posted on November 6, 2019 7 Comments
YeahWrite #447 Microprose: an object you are (or your main character is) happier without in 47 words
Inheritance of fear
Posted on May 1, 2019 21 Comments
Climbing rocks and a parent’s anxiety for YeahWrite #420’s Microprose Challenge.
Still Unmarried
Posted on June 7, 2018 10 Comments
“And when will you marry?” A thousand disapprovals danced beneath his words. “When you find me a suitable suitor.” “Give me your requirements.” He scrambled for pen and paper. Rolling my eyes I listed; “Tall, handsome, wealthy. Doctor, lawyer, or engineer.” “At your age,” he said, “isn’t sapience enough?” This entry is submitted for YeahWrite […]
Nuts!
Posted on March 22, 2018 10 Comments
Arse over tea-kettle, and over I went. Legs swept from under me, roller skating mid-air like Wyle E. Coyote caught off a cliff, then down with a wallop.
Not Drowning, Waving
Posted on October 25, 2017 4 Comments
“It’s going swimmingly,” she said while catching the lifejacket and wrangling two teens.
The Last Thread
Posted on June 8, 2017 5 Comments
I didn’t post in this week’s YeahWrite Microprose #312 grid, but I love flash/microprose and wanted to play along with other YeahWriters.
Baby Elephant March
Posted on October 22, 2014 13 Comments
They appear, carrying your fragile heart in their hands. Shlurrpff, off the breast. “I do myself”; an experiment in feeding. Mismatched clothes, and shoes on the wrong feet. Backpack on and away to school. Friends and teams. Is that my car? Silence.
Asha Rajan 