‘And you think I can do it?’ she said, crossing her arms and folding her wings more tightly around her. Below her feet, the cliff fell away to mist and snow.
The owl on her shoulder nibbled her beak affectionately. ‘It’s as easy as falling,’ she said.
The girl laughed, a strained sound. A gust of wind kicked up, lifting her hair and skirt and rustling her feathers.
Then she spread her wings and took the leap.
Flying, as easy and as hard as falling.
Earlier today Maggie Stiefvater tweeted about how she got a homophobic message about The Dreamer Trilogy, and I don’t know, it especially made me cross for some reason. I guess I’d been primed by the day already.
So instead of venting I decided to fill the world with microfiction about boys kissing instead. I asked five commenters to reply with their favourite prompt or trope and I would write a toot-long microfiction about it on Mastodon.
Here are the results.
Up Against the Lockers
Dizzily, he pulled back, delighting in their breaths mingling. He opened his eyes to see Ed making a face.… Read more
She drifted down lonely paths, the flowers in her hair withered black and her bare feet thick with mud and ashen with cold.
Where laughter called, she turned away. Where smiles bloomed to greet her, she fled.
It was alone that he found her; hovering just above a rocky cliffside, the ragged ends of her dress swirling about her legs, her tangled hair afloat around her.
There was a power about her that gave him pause, but nonetheless, he approached.
‘I saw you, at the solstice,’ he said. ‘Flitting about the rocks. My sister called you over, but you fled. You looked so sad.… Read more
When she found the clawed prints gouged deep into the forest earth, she was afraid, but she was also curious.
So she brought a little food every night, and watched from the boughs of a sturdy oak.
The meet was often carried off by foxes and cats, furtive in their movements. The veg and fruit pecked at by birds that were quick to take off.
But on nights when the sky was clear and the moon cast a silver veil, the creature would come.
Lumbering, hulking. A tall shell coated in moss and ridged with spikes. Long clawed feet, legs set to the sides like a lizard.… Read more
They approached the thrashing, snarling creature hanging from the snare, calmly dodging claws as long as their fingers and snapping teeth with cruel points.
They spun the creature around and it howled and struggled, but couldn’t reach them. They got to work on the snare, glad of the thick gloves that let them touch the sharp wire.
When the wire was at last worked loose, the thrashing creature hit the ground, then rose to its feet. It was easily twice their size.
It was a hulking, hairy thing of long snout and muscled limbs. It launched itself at them, claws outstretched.… Read more
Raindrops plinked against their synthetic casing. They held up their hand, watching the water make trails across it.
‘Surely you’ve seen rain before,’ said their friend.
‘Many times,’ they replied, still fascinated by the glistening beads on their casing. ‘Just never had time to appreciate it before. Because of the directives.’
Their friend smiled. ‘Well you’ve got time now.’
‘I’ve got time now,’ they agreed, and lifted their face to the sky.
—
Image by Stefan Dr. Schulz from Pixabay.… Read more
They hungered. Not just for food, though they needed it. Not just for shelter or love, though they wanted it. They were hungry because their spirit was being starved.
The world had taken from them again and again and they were fast becoming a husk. Something thin and twisted and locked away from sun and sanity.
They could feel it happening. It would be easy to become a hag, like so many before them. To take that hunger and turn it into miserable, malicious power.
Instead, they made a decision, because the world can be blamed for your pain but not for your cruelty, and that small and cold spirit inside them still longed to do and be better than what had spawned them.… Read more
She sat overlooking the ocean, legs dangling from the clifftop. Her blackened armour was beaded with gore, but her sword was plunged into the earth behind her.
Another woman approached, limping and clutching a spreading wound in her side. In her other hand was a glowing knife.
Without looking around, the first said, ‘So you’re here to kill me?’
The second hesitated.
‘I deserve it,’ she added.
‘You do,’ the second agreed. ‘Why did you do it?’
‘I don’t know,’ said the first. She looked up at the other with haunted eyes. ‘Somehow, that’s worse than if I did, isn’t it?… Read more
The cat stood watch at the foot of the bed while his witch thrashed and screamed. An empty glass bottle bounced from the bed to scatter into shards across the floor.
Her flesh roiled, sometimes skin, sometimes scales. Her bones creaked like old wood. And at times, her eyes were wide and full of fire.
The cat understood only a little. He knew she was changing. He knew she was afraid. And he knew he loved her.
So he kept watch and waited to see what she would become.
—
Image by Hilda Roberts from Pixabay.… Read more
They unfurled a tentacle, blinking their many eyes, and pointed at the brightly coloured rack behind the woman.
She gawped a moment, then regained her composure. ‘You’re here for yarn?’
They bobbed their bulbous, cephalpodal head, then pointed to the rack to her left.
‘Needles, too?’
They nodded again.
In spite of herself, she smiled. ‘Well, it’s always exciting when someone joins the craft. I’ll see if I can find something waterproof for you …’
They curled all their tentacles up and slitted their eyes in delight.
—
Image by cocoparisienne from Pixabay.… Read more