Twitter Fiction

Each story is told in 140 letters or less.

The silent queen made a mask of her lover's melted jewelry; silver, gold, diamonds. After that she wore sculpted lips rather than a crown.

A gnat flew in my ear, and for a moment all I heard was the thunder of tiny gossamer wings.

He could turn gold to lead, but even then they still wouldn't offer him a research grant.

He tore a page from a library book and put it in his pocket. They found his body twenty minutes later, a fountain pen through the heart.

The interviewee left his jaw behind, near the front desk where it decayed for two hours. We didn't want to discriminate against the undead.

Every time the full moon shines, I become human and dance at the mayor's party, by the wide veranda. Don't tell. The other rats don't know.

Doom came at night, when the wind died and the heat withered even the most tended plants. Little silver crosses littered the dusty ground.

Shotgun? Check. Night goggles, barbed netting? Check. Land mines? Half a dozen. Damn squirrels aren't getting my strawberries this year.

Mark thought that he said his proposal very well, on one knee in a park's rose garden.

She considered. "Ok. But stop wearing my clothes."

On the morning before the end of the world, the clouds swirled together like cotton candy: pink, salmon, and gold, but not a bit of white.

Diantha was not superstitious. Nor did she believe the gossip about her new home until the dead girl went ice skating across their pond.