Welcome to this week’s installment of many micro stories, ranging in length from 100 words to 500 words.
With each story we hope to deliver a little whimsy into the lives of our readers.
SAM
One eye. Two eyes. Three eyes, blinking back in the darkness as the flashlight beam glazed over them. Cicadas churned away their droning song, and a nearby river, rushing, rushing, rushing, competed for the ear of whoever might be listening.
Clouds drifted slowly and silently past, stars blinking out of existence, then just as suddenly, reappearing. Bright pinpricks sparkling in cold air.
A whisper. A breaking of a twig. A voice on the wind.
These eyes watched it all.
A flashlight beam; A lighthouse in the wilderness, drawing in ships of unknown origin and unknown intent.
By the time the battery ran down, we were close enough. The stumbling, the cursing, eventually the bleeding, it was all enough for me to follow.
I wasn’t the only one.
I laid low, followed close. Patiently, I waited for the optimal moment.
It came.
The cicadas droned on.
Shannon Rutherford O’Neill is an ecologist by training and a writer by reading. Drawn to both science and literature as explorations of the unknown, Shannon thanks you for your time and attention; A word read is a world altered.
If you enjoyed this story you can find it and more in the Hawthorn & Ash 2023 anthology.
Iron Faerie Publishing 