Aethereal Muses: “How’d you meet them?”


A weekly compilation of collected microfictions composed by yours truly. Follow me on Twitter, Facebook, or Instagram for daily dabs of fiction. If your time is short, these are shorter!

Copyright © by Jason H. Abbott, All Rights Reserved.

Featured Image: “Saborima”, by Zhōu Yōu

“How did you get the Martians to end the second invasion, Mr. President?” “I speak softly and carry a big stick,” Roosevelt answers. “After smashing six tripods in my presidential fighting machine with a telegraph pole, they engaged in diplomacy with velocity.” “We need to leave!” Trevor grabs a railing as the container ship lurches, crushed in Jörmungandr’s coils. “No debate about that, but how?” She gives a two-finger whistle, and a winged, white horse flies down. “You’re a Valkyrie?” he asks. “No, that’s Pegasus.” I run aft on the hull. The starliner’s elegant bridge deck where I captained brightens and explodes. Lifepods launch. The pirate cruiser closes in, raining disaster. My daughter sets the last robot gun. Two ships are doomed as they activate. “You’re an acquaintance of the god of dairy products?” “To be clear, they are the god of FERMENTED dairy products.” “How’d you meet them?” “On a blood curdling adventure.” “Sounds, cheesy.” “Yogurt that right!” “I think you’re milking this.” “No whey.” “How many Ent-draughts did you drink?” She smiles sitting beside him. “All of ‘em!” “You’ve gone from human to Entwife!” he says, shocked. The birch giantess stretches her long legs and root toes tickling his leaf beard. “How about an Ent girlfriend first?” The guard peers down the deep, sheer sides of the immurement hole into darkness. “Are you starving or dead down there yet, Master Thief?” he laughs. “Still think you can escape any cell now?” Kicked from behind, he screams falling face-first down the pit. “Yes.” “Is that an alligator suitcase?” she asks. “At the moment,” the old man says, closing the overhead and sitting. “Transformation is the only way to get some wizard’s familiars on planes these days.” There’s an odd growl of complaint from the bin above.

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