Uncharted
Micro-fiction series
Welcome back to Stock Fiction, a dynamic anthology of storytelling experiments conducted by yours truly, madly, deeply, Meg Oolders.💜
Continued thanks to
for providing the story prompts for most, if not all, of my micro-fiction experiments. His twice monthly Fifties by the Fire are worth a visit anytime you need a spark of inspiration or just want to read some magnificent micro-missives.Today, I have four 50-word stories to share with you, plus one rebel that clocked in at 56.
Enjoy my brevity. While it lasts. 😉
Locked Out
My hands tremble as I close the laptop. The words writhe in the watery jelly behind my eyes.
“Yours forever.”
A lie. But whose?
Hers or mine?
The door handle rattles as he jams his key into the broken lock on my front door.
He won’t get inside.
Not tonight.
Capsized
The word was goodbye, but I couldn’t say it.
It split my heart in two to give it breath.
So, I swallowed it down, like so many lungsful of water, brine, and vodka.
I stood in the boathouse, barefoot, dripping, waiting. Knowing.
The party was over long before we capsized.
Storyteller
His hands tell half the story. His eyes roughly a third.
His voice rattles on whether you’re in earshot or not.
The approach matters more than the landing.
And you needn’t worry if you miss something.
He’ll tell this one again. And it will be the first time.
As always.
Last Sip
She never finished a glass.
Left a single sip.
An oversight.
A petty indulgence.
“Just finish it,” I’d say.
“I’ve had enough,” she’d answer.
“It’s one sip.”
“Then you drink it.”
“I don’t drink red wine.”
“Then throw it out.”
“That’s a waste.”
“Then throw me out!”
And that would end it.
Until the next pour.
Uncharted
She signals right and pulls over abruptly.
She squints down the sun-dappled stretch of dirt road to her left.
“It’s not on the map.” Her voice trembles with uncertainty.
“Neither were you.” He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and her skin warms.
She signals left.
With certainty.
The Student Became the Teacher
Happy to report, my first teaching gig went off with only a hint of performance anxiety and a respectably low number of tech glitches. Now, I know I’m capable of planning, building, and executing a top-notch webinar. It’s possible, I’ll have the opportunity to further hone this skill come March, depending on how the wheel of fortune handles the three pitches I hurled at the 2025 WIP (Women in Publishing) Summit. Fingers crossed!
Giving Thanks
Heartfelt prayer hand emojis to
for writing this post. My faith in the unifying power of comedy, love, and dancing remains steadfast.Proof of Poetry
I’m awaiting what I hope is the final proof copy of my “unbound” poetry collection. With any luck, she’ll be in “stores” in time for winter solstice.
Thanksgiving and The Rest.
The holiday season has arrived and is certain to wreak havoc on my publishing schedule.
What publishing schedule, Meg? You’re all over the map. That’s why we like you so much, you highly unpredictable, free-spirited story maven, you.
Aw. Thanks.
But seriously.
I’ll be back soon with updates on my poetry book’s release, as well as a teaser for a bold new passion project … because apparently, I don’t have enough of those already.
Truly, madly, deeply,
P.S.
These are really fun and I'd love to see them become a staple in your arsenal.
Can’t pick a favourite. You never asked me to … but …
I’ll re-read tomorrow. Off to watch a movie.