Beyond
The Challenge:
Write a story using the following rules:
Must be exactly 6-words, 50-words, or 100-words in length OR between 101 - 500 words. Title is never counted towards word count.
Any genre is allowed but if a Trigger Warning is needed, please indicate so behind the title. (Ex. TITLE [TW])
Share your story in the comments or Substack Notes. Remember to TAG
for a chance to be featured in future posts.
DIGITAL ISSUE OPPORTUNITY
If we receive submissions from at least 5 different people, then one of them will be selected to appear in the next issue. I haven’t decided yet if the chosen story will be based on judging against the others or random or community votes. And, to make things more pressing, this offer is only open to stories submitted in the next 72hrs! For consideration in the next issue you must use the below template in the comments section (stories shared in Substack Notes will not be considered):
SUBMISSION TEMPLATE:
Word Length:
Story Title: [doesn’t count towards word count]
Story:
OPPORTUNITY CLOSES: Friday, November 1st at 9pm EST
[This is only for those who wish the opportunity for their story to appear in a digital issue. Otherwise, please contribute a micro fiction story anytime.]
Good luck!
Bonus Challenges:
For those of you who like to push yourselves beyond what you already know you are capable of…
Write a story using ALL of the unique story lengths: 6-words, 50-words, and 100-words.
Write a STACKed STORY. This is a story that starts as 6-words then is a continuation story at 50-words, then has a conclusion of 100-words.
Word length: 100 words
Story title: Beyond the Frame
Story:
The artist saw his little girl balanced against a backdrop of darkling sky, on the open window’s sill – at the edge of in and out, up and down. A long way down.
He breathed the cold air flowing in. He mustn’t startle her.
‘What are you doing?’
She faced the stars. ‘Catching the fairy dust in my cup.’
The stars blinked.
‘Ah.’ He shivered.
He coaxed her back. Tomorrow, he’d draw her, with the window framing deep night.
Even the universe has an edge, he thought. Who is looking through its frame? Can I catch that mystery in my cup?
I realize I've passed the 500-word limit, but sometimes stories carry us from the prosaic observance of parameters and into the realms beyond. I simply was lost in amusement!
MICROZINE IMAGE PROMPT #13 "Beyond"
"LURKERS FROM THE CHALLICE"
Maximillian rustled through the pages; each odd number warmed by the votive lantern burning away in the middle of the night. Only anecdotes from desultory sources abounded, but his curiosity required the satiation of truth, and he swore to spend eternity rummaging through ancient texts to find it.
Beyond the dusty curtains of the dormer, the moon shone through a billowing layer of clouds, rimming the tree line with a hoary lambency. The vista kindled his fervor as he searched and scoured the grimoire’s records, aware of his questionable standing among peers who thought his motives rooted in madness.
His eyes locked. The text jumped through the flickering pall like fleas from a mangy dog. The quirky tall tales from that crazy old man he encountered hobbling along the backroads finally conferred the once-undeserved merit of authenticity. Either this fellow similarly shared in the grimoire’s fancies, or his senior musings corroborated with the legends of the lurkers from beyond.
He read further.
The name 3C-8 Crateris leapt out at him. He blinked. Why the astronomical reference? The old wanderer mentioned something about a cup in the sky, but its references got too entangled with his ramblings about a transcendental race that merged with the stars.
How was that possible? Was it steeped in metaphor, or axiomatic of historical events? None of it made sense, of course, but according to this time-forgotten legend, the constellation Crater harbored the pantheon of spirits that roamed the Earth since the dawn of time, proving only a dollop on how long these creatures have been around. A diagram beside the mysterious monograph illustrated a host of spirits, banshees, demiurges, and gods bursting from the rim of a giant chalice, an image easily imputed to the effects of too much vermouth. It could have been the ancient’s way of masking a reality that only a mythological façade could, at least in part, validate for the commoner’s sake.
The text continued, and he flipped the page. Underneath the wall of text, stood a series of verses. The language itself was unknown, either fictitious or serving as a relic of the past. The passage spoke of a ‘dream tongue,’ its influence on the modern human psyche indeterminate until someone mustered the courage to willingly recite it. Maximillian, pursed his lips. He became all too aware of the inherent perils delving into what he didn’t fully understand. But someone had to scoff the fates.
Seizing the moment, he shrugged off the implications and uttered the stanzas aloud.
The candle flickered spasmodically as if the wind picked up. Emotions, images, and subconscious engrams milled through his brain, stirring him into a bout of delirium. Cryptic sounds echoed, building in their sensory violence, and slowly resolving into non-verbal speech. The dream tongue!
Then the words, indescribable except as engrams, became clear: Look around, my friend. We surround you…in every tree…every animal…every bottle of gin!
A knock from downstairs. Roused from his trance, Maximillian bounded from the garret, disturbing the grimoire and nearly toppling the candle, shuffled down the rickety stairs, and flung open the front door.
Silhouetted against the ghostly pallor of the midnight moon, the old man stood, his countenance sage and resolute. Maximillian froze.
Thoughts eddied into a digestible semantic; Remember us…your heavenly progenitors…lurkers from the chalice!