Chosen are the Few

Hello Hello and welcome to my urban fantasy microfiction, written based on the prompt: Write a piece under 300 words set in modern times, but where everyone knows that magic exists, and make it from the POV of someone who does not have magic.

I admit, this one just completely spiraled out of control, it started dark and then it got weird. Nothing terrible happens in the story but there are vibes that let you know it’s going to. Read at your own peril.

I was a software engineer, and there was a time when that would have been a good thing, but that was before the world discovered magic.  Not discovered, not really, apparently it was always there, things like vampires, werewolves, fairies, all the things of legend that went bump in the night, all real, right along with witches and wizards.

For some people things got better after the big reveal, disease disappeared, climate change was a snap of the fingers and then a memory, but other things changed too.  With the revelation of duplication spells, money became worthless, it was all back to bartering, and I had the social skills of a gnat.

There wasn’t a thing that could be done with computers that couldn’t be done better with magic, and I was what they called a null, not only did I not have the ability, I actually dampened, so people couldn’t even cast near me.

Overnight I went from a middle-class life in suburbia, to a social pariah, and none of those so-called wizards ever stopped to try and help my ilk.  It’s why I joined the foundation, because our sovereign spoke the truth, where others kowtowed to the supernatural.  He would lead us to salvation, to a promise land where we all would have value again, and I for one, could not await the day of reckoning.


Promotion Perks

Hello hello and welcome to this week’s Microfiction Monday, where I will be answering the prompt to write a contemporary piece under 300 words about a character that tells us something about who they are, through what they say, or the actions they take. Follow the narrator, as they encounter one of the usual suspects, and not everything turns out the way they expect…

I sat down at my desk, and paused, something was not right.

I moved the pens from the left side of my desk, to the right, ignoring Bryan’s snickers, and wondering again if I should contact HR.  On the one hand, it was harmless, moving my stuff around didn’t hurt anyone, and he didn’t hide anything anywhere I couldn’t find it.  On the other hand, he had no reason to touch my things, and he knew that it bothered me, so that was harassment, right? 

It didn’t matter though, I wouldn’t be here for much longer, not that he knew that. 

I had applied for certification last week, my documentation was all order, and I had aced the written exam.  Once I received the paperwork in the mail, I could apply for somewhere else, somewhere without Bryan, and maybe the next person who occupied this desk would be less easy to rile.

The job offer preceded the paperwork, and it came from my bosses boss, who had heard I was getting certified, and had a vacancy that would be easier to fill by someone who already knew the landscape. 

There would be better offers at other places, we paid at the low end of the scale, but the experience would be an asset for my next job, and the perks were what sold it.

It wasn’t the bonus, or that I would get an office with a door that locked to prevent people from touching my things, it was that my role would be a supervisory one, to a single employee.  I could barely contain my smirk as I thought about Bryan’s up performance review…


Hello Hello and welcome to what should have been a weird, but ultimately funny story. It was originally inspired by the image below from and if you haven’t checked out their stuff, do, it’s absolute gold. Of course, me being me, took a light hearted story and just absolutely destroyed it, and oh my god, read the tags if you are easily triggered, because this one is a doozy.

I hated the way Joey didn’t shut the god damned cupboard doors after he opened them, and it was like he did it on purpose lately.

He’s been doing a lot of things like that recently, wiping his toothpaste on the good towels, dropping his laundry beside the hamper instead of in it, putting his dishes in the sink instead of the dishwasher, and I am his wife, not his mother, and he is old enough to clean up after himself.

 We had a big fight about it a while back, and I stormed out of the house, angry, and well, I tried to apologize for the leaving, not the argument, because he needs to grow up, but he is being a fucking child, and he won’t even look at me anymore.

I should be the bigger person, I should let it go, but I can’t, not after giving in so many times, not after forgiving him even before the bruises had faded.  Maybe I should just go, maybe this time he would let me go, and not come after me. Maybe this time I could move on from him, and find someone who isn’t so angry all the time, who isn’t such an asshole.

All that anger though, it fades away when I see him, sitting on the bed, night after night, crying, looking at my picture, and I know he is sorry for all of it.  If only he would apologize, look at me, and tell me I am forgiven, maybe I could get over it and maybe, just maybe I could move on.

Rustling in the Dark

Hello Hello and welcome to Write piece under 300 words about someone who realizes too late what is about to happen. Follow our narrator of no specific gender as they go home and realize that there is someone in the house…

I knew that Tom wasn’t supposed to be home, and his car wasn’t in the driveway, which is why I hesitated in unlocking the door.  I could hear a rustling sound within, a hushed whisper, and I wondered if it was too late to run.

It was dark now, the moon new, and the cul de sac, surprisingly absent of the usual door lights that would give them entire place a dim glow.  I know that some of them have to be home, if I ran, if I yelled, would they even look, or would they ignore me the way they did the day I screamed bloody murder after walking into the spider web between my car and fence.

Every instinct told me to flee, there was someone inside, and that they felt the need to hide it said everything.  The sound of my phone ringing betrayed my presence, and I could barely hear it over the sound of my heart pounding in my chest.

I shifted my keys to between my fingers, braced myself for the fight, and opened the door, knowing at once what was going on, but too late to do anything to stop the assault.

I was overwhelmed by the bright lights, the roaring noise, and it took me a moment longer than it should have to decipher the screams.