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The android's memory tapes spool back to long ago when humans and other living creatures populated the earth; before pollution destroyed the atmospheric layers and nothing could breathe. Only the humans' creations survived: their machines, their art, their music, their architecture. And in seconds, even that would be gone upon impact. The android's eyes record the meteor's approach even though no one is left to view the record and everything will be incinerated anyways. One must follow one's programming after all, even to the end.
Location: Love in Paris
maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Alpha%20Atoll/103/133/77
from the landing point, go up into the Eiffel Tower to the dance floor level
Windlight sKy:
Poly: Distant Worlds 4
by PolyPlace (Polyhistor Serpente)
Winter Phoenix is the android. I'll ask him about it next time we're on.
Winds of Change paper birds by 3rd Eye
Mautao the Mage had traveled far to reach the Sculpted Lands of the Ancestors. The lore of old held that the lands were carved by fire in the time before Man, and that the eternal smoke of the Dragon’s Breath still arched through the sky at night. The People now suffered from the Wasting Sickness and he had been sent to intervene with the Gods of Old. Rain and game had become scarce and the little food to be had was from foraging and meager crops. The New Gods had not answered their prayers, so Mautao appealed to the Gods of the Ancestors residing above.
An image from a fantasy shoot in the New Mexico Badlands. Thanks to Kialo Winters of Navajo Tours USA, who is the Mage! Contact him for tours in the area!
This is a Lighting Blend, one exposure for the sky and foreground with Low Level Lighting, and the same image repeated with a muted flash (from behind the rocks) for the Mage. An experiment with night photography, characters, and microfiction.
Thanks for all the kind support over the last year, it is much appreciated! A big thank you to the wonderful Flickr family!
To Walk an Alien Land... He sat foot upon the barren rock of a new world, new to man. There was a residual atmosphere of Nitrogen and Carbon Dioxide but little or no Oxygen. There was widespread evidence of erosion indicating a prior abundance of water but there was little surface water now. They had spent decades in deep sleep and a small exploratory force had recently been awakened by the autopilot to resupply within the nearest system. There was little need for anyone to leave the ship as all resupply functions could be performed remotely by robotics. Spacesuits were still primitive and rarely used, but there were always a few who savoured the experience of walking a new world...
If you like photos like this then come and join us in a workshop in July in this location. For details see my website or DM me here at Flickr.
Thanks for all the kind support over the last year, it is much appreciated! A big thank you to the wonderful Flickr family!
Der Spooky Haunted Halloween Island
maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Nykus/175/219/22
A Micro Halloween Tale:
I'm late, I'm late. Grab my broom while Fluffy leaps on my head and we're zooming past the full moon to the graveyard.
We barely make it by midnight and are my aunts happy? No!
Aunt Edith raises her hands, asking the demons and ghosts where did she go wrong. Look at her complaining that I'm not even dressed like a proper witch and she moans about my having a familiar named Fluffy. Like that's not a proper familiar name. Or maybe she doesn't like white.
Sheesh! My aunts are so old school. They don't even get that witches can be good now. And if you think I'm going to eat eye of newt, you would be wrong. I'll conjure up some Chinese take-out for me and Fluffy.
Yummy takeout with a wave of a wand. I love being a witch!
The End
A tale inspired by a random comment about my not-so witchy outfit by Winter Phoenix. And I had this instant picture of disapproving witch aunts who wanted a wicked prim and proper niece but got a goody-two-shoes rebel, lol.
windlights;
night sky : Poly: Distant Worlds 10
FYI: the windlight on the island is different.
Additional lighting: Lumipro projector
Wearable broom with pose : Runaway Broom by NANTRA
Floofy Felines - Head Clinger (White) by JIAN
Setting:
The Witches of Halloween (3 witches) by Dench Designs
Summon the Devil by Dench Designs
Sorrowtomb bowl of fire (green) by Raindale
Sorrowtomb fire pedestal (green) by Raindale
Portable Scene SPELL TREE - Making spells (weird tree on right) by PIXEL BOX
AutumnBrise{4Seasons} by Little Branch
Willow Tree by Baz
Black trees background
Clothes & hair
Witch Top - MAITREYA by BWC
Bewitched Leggings by **S&C**
Gift_StrappyLaceUpHeels(Orange)_Maitreya by COCO Designs
KittyCat Necklace by je suis...
Black Cat Earring by [ session ]
Pop Choker by mintae
Hair: Witch way - Cense - Fades by Tableau Vivant
Skin: Hideko by Mudskin
Head: Alice v4 by Catwa
Body: Lara v5 by Maitreya
Sad Boys*
by: Bill Rogers
*******************
Up came a foggy face like a goldfish drowning, up through the crowded aisle leading to the register. "I heard you had soft boys here.", he wheezled behind a desperate mustache.
"We've no such thing. If you are looking for sad boys though we've got those. They are all like a bust from the chest up. We've got the 6" ceramic version. The shoulders are 6" across that is. And at the top of the head it is also about 6". We have two kinds, both in a yellow jacket, one with a softly glowing hand formed face with bare indications of eyes and a mouth. The nose is just a small bump of clay. The second 6" variety is exactly the same only with the head of an old seaman, complete with yellow hat. The 8" versions are the same as these only proportionately scaled up. Then there are some 12" varieties which only feature the hand formed face. Then we have a 2' version which comes in three styles, an aqua jacket, a burnt orange jacket and a dark brown version. All of them have a head that looked like Fernando Pessoa."
The more I looked at the goldfish, the more he was looking like a sad (or soft) boy himself, which made sense considering that I only saw him from the chest up due to the glass counter top between us. "I guess I'll take one of those." he said, gesturing to the 2' version in burnt orange. "Only, how will I carry it? I'm sure it's pretty heavy."
"Oh no, the 2' variety is a durable plastic variety which gives it enough weight but is easy to carry. And all of them have a handle that springs up out of the hat."
Our sad boys had been going slowly the last day or two so it was encouraging to make another sale. How to keep a store up and running when all it sells is sad boys and ceramic afghan hounds?
"So, what if I need to bring him back?"
"Well, sorry, but no refunds on sad boys."
If that dogged goldfish comes floating back in here with that dummy the store will vanish.
11/18//21
*microfiction inspired by a dream
"The Plastic Surgery", True Stories (1988-2003).
"Le nez", Histoires vraies (1988-2003).
Le blog de Fabien Ribery: Des histoires vraies, les microfictions de Sophie Calle
#exitenter #exitenter #scratchfiction #barcelona #thebarcelonist #justgoshoot #shorts #shortstories #instafiction #flashfiction #microfiction #art #catalunya #st_ph #street #streetphotography #streetartphotography #travel #nothingisordinary #streetartbcn #streetarteverywhere #minimal #mindtheminimal #minimalism #graffitiporn #graffitiart #wallart #wallfilth #wallporn #illusion #shadow #shadows #mansface #creepy #eery
Thelema is always aware, and she know`s things...
Awareness is a term referring to the ability to perceive, to feel, or to be conscious of events, objects or patterns, which does not necessarily imply understanding. In biological psychology, awareness comprises a human's or an animal's perception and cognitive reaction to a condition or event.
Awareness is a relative concept. An animal may be partially aware, may be subconsciously aware, or may be acutely aware of an event. Awareness may be focused on an internal state, such as a visceral feeling, or on external events by way of sensory perception. Awareness provides the raw material from which animals develop qualia, or subjective ideas about their experience.
Also used to distinguish sensory perception is the word "awarement." "Awarement" is the established form of awareness. Once one has accomplished their sense of awareness they have come to terms with awarement.
Popular ideas about consciousness suggest the phenomenon describes a condition of being aware of one's awareness or, self-awareness. Efforts to describe consciousness in neurological terms have focused on describing networks in the brain that develop awareness of the qualia developed by other networks.
Neural systems that regulate attention serve to attenuate awareness among complex animals whose central and peripheral nervous system provides more information than cognitive areas of the brain can assimilate. Within an attenuated system of awareness, a mind might be aware of much more than is being contemplated in a focused extended consciousness.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Multiverse
Art by Smile44
Edited by Jazz 9 Ometeotl
Icon Magazine microfiction competition
www.iconeye.com/index.php?view=article&catid=1:latest...
(I did try and write a happy, optimistic one too, but there you go.)
"AS I moved silently toward Dzerzhinsky Square, all the while sticking to the shadows in the moon light, the mercury vapour lamps on the power poles lit the snow like white crystal or maybe just the cheap Soviet coke they cut with weed killer.
Then I stumbled into a puddle of half-frozen mud and started to curse and that’s when I heard the husky voice from the doorway.
‘Allo dahlink, my name Olga, you want nice, warm Moscow girl on cold night, ya?’
She had a face like a Russian doll; you know the ones that fit inside each other; lips that were way too red, purple mascara running down her cheeks, torn black stockings, she was shivering slightly inside the cheap fur coat and reeked of perfume to match.
I got the feeling it was gonna be one of those nights and I wondered just which doll this one was. Now I had to get the pass word right.
‘Evening sister, but they say it is much colder in the cells of the Lubyanka.’
‘Only for stupid foreigner who not know where he goes. Now come with Olga quickly, before the patrols pick you up.’
She took hold of my arm in a surprisingly strong grip and hustled me into the back a dented Lada parked in the shadows with the engine running.
The heater was going flat out inside as the driver turned and grinned with a mouth full of shiny steel teeth. ‘My name Igor, we drive now."
Text (c) 2025
To be continued...
Franz Kafka did much of his best writing late at night into the wee hours of the morning. Such imsomnia can have a debilitating effect upon the mind, as it may have had on Kafka's; but, as with other writers, it also likely fired his imagination.
"At Night," one of the writer's very short stories (might be labeled flash fiction or microfiction today) isn't solely about imsomnia. The whole of it follows, but see if you don't think that it's about more than being unable to sleep. And the prose? Well, it reads like poetry to me.
At Night
Deeply lost in the night. Just as one sometimes lowers one's head to reflect, thus to be utterly lost in the night. All around people are asleep. It's just playacting, an innocent self-deception, that they sleep in houses, in safe beds, under safe roofs, stretched out or curled up on mattresses, in sheets, under blankets; in reality they have flocked together as they had once upon a time and again later in a deserted region, a camp in the open, a countless number of men, an army, a people, under a cold sky on cold earth, collapsed where once they had stood, forehead pressed on the arm, face to the ground, breathing quietly. And you are watching, are one of the watchmen, you find the next one by brandishing a burning stick by the brushwood pile beside you. Why are you watching? Someone must watch, it is said. Someone must be there.
—"At Night," by Franz Kafka (translated from the German by Tania & James Stern)
I think that's what writers like Kafka do: they watch, they observe, they reflect, they write, because someone must, even into the wee hours of the morning.
(for Poetography, Theme 232—Watch)
Microfictions
作者：安娜．瑪麗亞．舒阿
原文作者：Ana Maria Shua
譯者：陳錦慧
出版社：三采
出版日期：2012年01月13日
語言：繁體中文
ISBN：9789862296110
裝訂：平裝
Spot illustration for a collection of bizarre microfiction.
Client: Las Vegas Weekly
AD: Benjamen Purvis.
Memorial for an emotionally satisfying tangerine.
Prints available on Artflakes, Fine Art America and RedBubble.
Today marks the return of Microfiction Monday at Shea Magazine. Every Monday, we’ll be doing a series of collaborative competitions where an artist provides us with a photograph or a painting (or something else) and we will attach a short story of 250 words or less.
We ask you to do the same and give us your best story of 250 words or less which you can leave in the COMMENTS section on our web page. We’ll choose the winning submission which will be published as a separate piece on Friday.
So let this cabin in the woods be your inspiration. Join us on our web page to contribute to the fiction or even submit a work of art to act as inpiration
AIR art market during Deutschtown music festival. Also custom microfiction for a dollar on a manual typewriter.
Part of Micro fiction Macro sculptures: Class collaboration between ART 101 (Design) and ENG 303 (Fiction Workshop).
Part of Micro fiction Macro sculptures: Class collaboration between ART 101 (Design) and ENG 303 (Fiction Workshop).
Part of Micro fiction Macro sculptures: Class collaboration between ART 101 (Design) and ENG 303 (Fiction Workshop).
A sneak peek into the companion chapbook for Kevin Griffith's 101 KINDS OF IRONY, which launched today. For details, please visit our book blog at foldedbooks.wordpress.com/2012/10/15/101-kinds-of-irony/
Part of Micro fiction Macro sculptures: Class collaboration between ART 101 (Design) and ENG 303 (Fiction Workshop).
Spot illustration for a collection of bizarre microfiction.
Client: Las Vegas Weekly
AD: Benjamen Purvis.
Was it Flòrida or Florìda?
We always argued with aunt Lina...
[microfiction series 01]
(Taken @ Bagno Florida, Viareggio)
Original photo:
️🌈💕💙
.
"hide yourselves, some shamed.
ignore them, others retorted.
you cannot burn a star, we revealed. "
.
(untitled, 2 of 30, #napowrimo)
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today is the first day of our medical school's transgender visibility week. our lunch time talk was given by an outstanding wife-husband medical professional team and i'm ever so grateful to them for sharing their time and wisdom with us so we can become more compassionate and thoughtful physician-citizens 👩⚕️
and let your lives be built on him. Then your faith will grow strong in the truth you were taught, and you will overflow with thankfulness. - colossians 2:7
jessicaetcetera.tumblr.com microfiction blog for school.
The cover of Kevin Griffith's forthcoming eBook. To be notified when it releases, please follow our book blog at foldedbooks.wordpress.com
Cover by Patrick Morrison.
INFINITE DISPOSABLE is a collection of flash fiction paired with surreal black and white film photography. Its otherworldly stories shift through loss, loneliness, and the passage of time. Each cover is handmade, and the print run is limited to 125 books.
The excellent poet (she writes also short-stories, microfiction, essays, novels, has her own blog: Acerca del paraíso on www.archipielagonoticias.com) Dolores, or Lola.
The year was 1998. I was a Junior in high school. A new high-end furniture store had just opened in Princeton. It was one of those furniture stores that sold interesting little nick-nacks like books, among other things. From this store I bought two books, and only two books since the store didn't stay open for very long.
One book is a collection of stores, each at 55 words in length; a style of writing I exercised for nearly a decade and occasionally pen today. The other is a book of quotes called, "Taxi Driver Wisdom." This book, the one you see here, got packed into a small box after college and was left in the basement of my parent's house for seven years. It's back with me now, sitting on my side table where it belongs.
[An aside: if you have any interest in microfiction, here's the 55 words article on Wikipedia. The variation of this style that I practiced dictated 55 words exactly, not 55 or fewer words, as is more common.]