Microstories: Old Friends

Three-sentence stories about characters from my longer stories. If I’ve done them right, they should be enjoyable on their own.

1. Genie resisted the urge to top up the rum in her Pharisäer. Thelema was asleep in her bed, her nudity swaddled in fading cotton and the glow of the ancient oil lamp at Genie’s desk. She pondered the symbolism of their names, the reality of their mismatched complexions, and the possibility of escape – but love – love was the law.

2. Make-up was communication. So were clothes. Ursula smoothed down a red pencil dress over her girdled-perfect silhouette and checked her armor for cracks.

3. After feeding they rest, curling around skyscrapers, their long bodies bloated to the thickness of barrels, red blood pulsing under translucent skin. Nate lies on his back on the rubble, sated, dizzy. Somewhere up beyond the smoke the sky is still blue.

4. “They’re killing boys for being black,” says Elly as she lifts her backpack and checks her tickets. “That’s my fight, too.” Susannah bites her lip, but says nothing.


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