November Microfiction 1-5

He wore a hatful of moonlight and in the daytime pretended to ignore the inconvenient coyotes trailing him through the streets, howling.

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Savage! The savage savage savagely savaged the other savages for their refusal to act as pronouns, prepositions, or conjunctions.

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Years later, she opened the book and saw the letters had slid off the pages and clumped in the gutter. She pieced together a new scripture.

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The leviathan, hungry for prophets, swam in ever-widening circles and considered the ursine shore, the polar bear market.

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The old astronaut in the tee box glanced at Cygnus. He was go for the black hole in one. It was a par 3.1555787×10e18, but he felt lucky.

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These are originally posted on Twitter (@jdbrush). I’m trying to do one per day this month.

James Brush

James Brush is a teacher and writer who lives in Austin, TX. He tries to get outside as much as possible.

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