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 art generated by Jason H. Abbott using starryai.
The Mouthless One was seven feet of fungus, a mushroom with thick arms and legs. I clung to Mama afraid as she led them to my bedridden brother. It was then I learned the Silent Folk are kind healers all, their blood the fabled pana-cillin that cures many ills. Dear Temporal Theorists Inc, c. 2040, If you are flummoxed receiving this 150-year-old letter, imagine my consternation when your “time probe” hit my barn. Please remit repair compensation of $100, American. Respectfully, D. Brown, Dakota Territory, 1889. The tramp freighter crept past the cruiser in the nebula’s cover. “Stay under sensors,” Dav half-prayed. “You’re a smuggler,” Maka said. “Can’t your ship outrun some pirates?” “Sure she could. It’s outrunning the range of their guns in time that’s the problem.” Rumbeard looks at his trounced pirates. “Aye, now ‘ere’s a mess.” The werewolf growls. “If I‘d known, I wouldn’t ‘ad kidnapped ye. Yet ‘ere we are, on a boat out t’ sea. But if ye wants freedom, Lady Talbot, I ‘ave an offer.” “What?” she asks. “Join me crew!” With our choices being the jaws of a hungry T-Rex, or us trying to hang on to a bucking Alamosaurus, I trust my surfer’s reflexes. Petite cave woman in my arms, I run, then stand sliding barefoot down the dinosaur’s back. She screams as I yell “Yabba Dabba Doo!” “You think this is Cthulhu?” She put down the loathsome idol. “It’s not. He exists in more dimensions than we can conceptualize. This sculpture is a symbol, an icon born from a human mind struggling to comprehend a being beyond the corporeality of our universe.” “All this love, lost in shared dreams we forget.” She splays six of his fingers. “We’ll keep trying.” The world fades as he splays four of hers. “Remember.” He awakens with six fingers out. Elsewhere, she adds a four to a list. “It’s, a phone number?”
Aethereal Engineer 
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