This one is from Micro Bookends.
Old men and old women lined the streets. Some of them slept on the stoops of the buildings, others sat in lawn chairs. They were too old and un-costumed to be lining up for a nerd-movie, and far too old to be lining up for a new gadget.
“Age treatments,” Jacob said.
“The scientists at the clinic found the cure for old age.”
“Hamster blood and a secret ingredient, consumed under a full moon.”
Miranda wondered if those in line remembered the “good old days” when science hadn’t mixed with magic.
She didn’t want to get old but she’d refuse to drink hamster blood at any age.
From Micro Bookends.
“Fear is your enemy. We will succeed.”
“We’re gonna be swallowed,” JanJan whispered.
Maxine didn’t believe his statistics. Tonight, humans would win the war.
“When we’re inside aim for the gold,” the captain said. An ogre’s golden tooth was its weakness.
The experimental shrinking process succeeded. However, the troops hadn’t expected the sheer magnitude of the rancid smell. The fumes attacked the nervous system and rendered the human troops useless.
Their last line of defense had failed. The ogre’s bad breath had triumphed.
Maxine tried to catch JanJan but she couldn’t move. He tumbled down the ogre’s throat. Maxine’s scream was drowned by the shuttle’s explosion. Her body went flying.
From Micro Bookends.
Play was no longer fun for Fluffsy. His girl had removed both his eyes in the first five minutes, and that was over a year ago.
Enough was enough.
Kitten-Mittens, oldest and wisest of the toys, warned him against escape. “You’ll never make it,” she said.
“I have to believe I can,” he said.
He didn’t make it far. There were too many people and he couldn’t stay alive with human eyes on him.
The stone was cold and his heart ached.
Small hands grasped Fluffsy’s remaining ear. A child’s voice cooed “Bunny!”
And because he had taken a chance, Fluffsy became the beloved plaything of a charming little boy.
This one’s a little too close for comfort…but it won third place at Micro Bookends.
Explosive temper, foul language, cruel insults; she has it all.
She lurks in the back of my mind screaming until I want to tear out my hair with pain and frustration. She’s with me at work, at home, while I’m sleeping, while I’m cooking. I can’t relax.
If something is dirty she knows it; if it’s not dirty, she thinks it is, and convinces me. She’s different for everyone, but for me, she contaminates the world. She reduces the people and places I love into germs. She follows me around and remembers everything I do.
She is not me, but she changes me.
Her name is Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.