Not to be confused with a micro penis, micro fiction is writing a 100 word story which is much harder than it seems. But since my brainwaves have been re-wired to be as short attention span as possible, it really works for me. Here’s the first two I wrote:
There was a secret machine kept behind a locked door that was keeping everyone sane and not stupid. The only people who knew about it are long dead. In the building it was in, a kid was using a power washer in the lobby while someone used a microwave and they tripped the breaker that powered it.
The machine turned off and everyone got really dumb and irrational but we didn’t notice until much later. “Have we always been this dumb?” Yes. But that machine kept the stupid cornered like a mystical dragon laboring to keep the sun from rising.
I kept seeing sidewalk chalk art reading “Mahmodahn is coming” with a crude picture of a monster breathing fire next to it. I would see it in my neighborhood as we went to the park for quarantine walks, and I would see it downtown when I was walking from building to building. Every time the same, the only difference was the color of chalk. But incredibly, they were everywhere. Well, they were right. Mahmodahn did come and we now live in our basements and only go out at night because he doesn’t see very well. Merry Christmas.