Here, There be a Writer

Friday, October 4, 2024

October Writing Challenges: Writober Edition

 Short and sweet, here are Days 2 thru 4 of my micro fiction pieces written for the Writober challenge.


Midnight Harvest

 

Jesse wandered among the rows of corn, passed dusk, well into the evening time and the minimal light of her torch barely reached her bare feet. The feet that slapped the ground with each footstep. She could see there wasn’t much left of the harvest. She had come late before and still got something from the harvest.

 

The night birds sang quietly but trilled in ominous song as she walked past each of the markers. Each of the markers indicated which landowner owned that crop. So, she was hopeful there would be one or two ears of corn that she could take home for dinner. Her and Matthias hadn’t eaten anything today, and at this rate they wouldn’t eat tomorrow either.

 

Jesse threw up her torch light towards the sky, startling two large dusk moths as they dance in the very pale light of dawn. It wasn’t much light to see anything, but Jesse kept walking. She kept pulling at the leaves, checking to see if there really was an ear of corn left.

 

The moths fluttered down to her head, lowering her torch so not to scare them. They seemed to glow. And she kicked at the dirt, throwing a few small rocks forward, making the moths dart high, though they glowed brighter.

 

Almost at the end of this row, Jesse decided to turn back, her stomach aching with an empty stomach. When the moths glowed brighter still and rushed at Jesse’s face. Her hand batted at the creatures and felt cool metal against her palm. Pulling her hands away she saw thew two moths bobbing in front of her, holding two small lanterns. They quickly turned at raced further down the row. Jesse leapt forward and gave chase to the little inserts.

 

She didn’t really think, but just ran for a long time, until the moths suddenly disappeared. Jesse quit her pursuit, standing now in darkness, until quietly crested the small rise in the row. There in front of her were rows and rows and glowing vegetables. Jesse saw corn the colour of the morning sun, carrots like that of the late afternoon, and a deep purple looking thing that reminded her of the night. She blinked, crossing slowly down into the fields. Her hands grabbing at the corn and carrot, even pulling up the purple looking thing.

 

The moths returned to in front of Jesse’s face. Their iridescent eyes shining in the light from the vegetables. They fluttered their wings and darted away. Jesse turned quickly and took off toward home, she didn’t want to dare to catch a glance and the glowing field because she could get home. Tears at the corner of her eyes, she whispered thanks to the moths. 


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Visitors

 

Lily sat on her porch, her head in her hands. She didn’t want to look up. She didn’t want to see the evidence of her crime. Of course it wouldn’t be long now, Mom was due home any minute now.

 

She lifted her head, checking every time a car drove around the curve in the road, but there was nothing. Letting her head dangle as she stared at the ground, she heard a noise. It sounded like an animal crunching on the partially dried grass in the yard. Lily lifted her head again to see two foxes sitting in her yard. One was orange, the other a pale white.

 

The foxes sat there, watching her. The orange tilted its head, while the pale fox looked quickly away. Lily had never seen foxes so close, and she wanted to pet them, even give them a hug. Her troubles temporally forgotten.

 

Neither fox moved, nor did Lily. There didn’t seem to be any movement from the road. The orange fox sat still, blinked twice. While the pale fox got up and started to walk away. It was walking toward the road, which Lily thought was strange, but she felt compelled to stand and start walking towards the pale fox.

 

The orange fox blinked twice and let out a slow, but audible growl, but Lily did not turn back to the orange fox, she kept walking toward the pale fox. It was silent as it turned towards Lily, and she suddenly heard the orange one howl, but it was too late as the white car whipped around the bend in the road and right into Lily. The only sound that was heard was the screeching of tires.

 

The driver exited the car to see the young girl lying in front of his car. There were two foxes sitting in the distance watching the scene play out as the driver knelt to get a pulse from the child’s neck. 

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The Letter

 

Mya’s hand shook as she wrote the letter. Inked letters spilling from the cheap motel, “I hope you are okay…” her hand shook, and she stopped, staring about the back of a paper menu. The words of the Rising Moon Café were bleeding through her letter. She looked again, reading the words out loud, “I hope you are okay, shrimp manicotti. Please come to Hot and Sour Soup.”

 

She shook her hand, trying to rid herself of some offending thoughts.

 

“You want another cup of coffee, Miss,” a voice said above her. Mya glanced upwards to see a smiling face of Juan. “Or maybe a piece of pie?”

 

Mya shook her head with much less force, No. Just the coffee please.” She didn’t want to tell Juan that all she could afford was the unlimited coffee and al the jelly and ketchup packet she could squirrel away.

 

“Alright,” said Juan, “but if you need anything please let me know.”

 

“Thank you,” said Mya, turning back to her menu letter. Her hands cupped around the chipped, cheap porcelain cup. The coffee tasted bitter, even with six sugar packets to flavour it. Mya picked up her pen and started writing again. “I don’t know what to tell you,” Mya scribbled. “I miss you.” She stopped and crumpled up the menu, looked towards Juan who was chatting with the cook. She shook her head, reached into her pocket and pulled out several quarters and dimes. Laying them on the table, she grabbed another paper menu and scribbled a quick note, rushed out of the café. Juan following her path out of the café.

 

He wandered over to the booth where Mya had been sitting. He saw the change. A quick count showed a tip of one dollar and fifty-five cents and a hastily scratched note. “I’m sorry, Juan. I hope you are okay, please come home. We miss you. Mya.”

 

Juan blinked and looked up. Mya stood outside, looking into then café. Juan rushed out to the meet Mya, but the second he left the café he found he was standing in a field, next to a grave. It was covered over in weeds and wildflowers. The grave was writing in faded etched letter Mya, beloved of Juan, 2024.


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