Number 4

CONFIDENCE

His blade was thick with blood, crimson and beautiful.

His enemies lay around him. Their cries turning to ragged gasps.

The breath of the last man before him was steady and calm.

They had not expected such a fight from an old man. But they did not know him.

They did not understand who he had been. They had no idea what he’d become.

The girl, unconscious, staked down in the dirt was alive. Her clothes, muddied and torn.

The last man, the leader, howled and rushed at him. Screaming oaths of vengeance.

The old man laughed, his wounds did not bother him, the rush of combat was his world.

He raised his weapon high, the blade dripping, gleaming.

Motionless he waited with the patience of stone.

The leader got closer, the old man did not move.

The leader was screaming in rage, the old man did not respond.

The leader lifted his weapon over his head, preparing to strike.

The old man smiled.

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Micro-Story 3

DOUBT

The trail was old. At least three days.

It might even be false, it was hard to tell.

He thought of his home, the garden and the lamp post.

Had he made the right decision?

Was adventure not a young mans duty?

He thought of his soft bed, but pushed that aside.

He could find her, he would find her.

He’d made a promise and would keep it until death.

She would be returned, her captors brought to justice.

Rising, knees cracking, he shifted his weapon lower onto his hip.

He pushed on, rightly or wrongly, fate would decide his victory or defeat.

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Thanks for stopping by, have a great rest of the week.  Have a wonderful weekend and I’ll see you next Wednesday.

Best,

Jonathan

 

Micro-story 2

RESURRECTION

His old bones, stiff at first, felt younger with every breath.

His pack, though full, was light upon his shoulder.

The road, cracked and worn, lay before him out to the horizon.

The weapon, his weapon, rested upon his hip.

The dark, toned, chrome guard of the hilt caught the sunlight.

He was young again, adventure before him.

Smiling, he strode forward into the unknown.

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Enjoy the rest of your week.  Have a great weekend and I’ll see y’all Wednesday.

 

The unbearable likeness of being Micro

Hey All,

As usual thanks for stopping by.  After literally tens of requests for some more micro stories that’s exactly what I’m gonna do.  So for around the next seven weeks I’ll be posting micro stories.

My goal with these stories is of course to attempt to tell a complete story in a paragraph or two.  However, they will also collectively tell one whole story…hopefully.

Once I’ve posted them as individual stories I’ll do one final post of all of them together so that the full story is laid out.

The two big, key words to keep in mind here are attempt and hopefully.

All the links to my other useless crapola will be after the story.  Hope you guys like it.

Best,

Jonathan

SOLACE

The wooden gate creaked only slightly when he opened it.

The smell of the blossoms was both intoxicating and relaxing.

For the first time in a long time he felt safe.

With every step toward the door, the shadows of his past fell further behind him.

The singular lamppost, glowing a soft yellow in the moonlight welcomed him home.

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