Microfiction I

I’m brushing up the writing chops. Here’s some microfiction and dialogue scenes inspired by various songs and pieces of music. Trying to get out of my comfort zone with a few of these. You can find all of the music on this Spotify playlist, with the exception of Prince’s “I Would Die For U.” Here’s a fabulous live version of it on Youtube. 

“Get It Together” (Drake, Black Coffee, Jorja Smith)

Skin everywhere. Lush neon lights. She danced close to him. Knees bumping, hips flush, heat pooled in their bodies. Feel this. Chests pulsing to every hollow beat. She cupped her hands around his neck, palm brushing across the trim of his hair, and she looked at him. His face half-obscured. Eyes cavernous. Hunger in the parting of his lips.

“Liability (Reprise)” (Lorde)

What was it, then? Hardly a day passes that I don’t think of this past year at the lighthouse. The conversational gems, the tight hugs, the offhand remarks from friends that I harbored in my heart until they melted into the deepest affection. Only time could create a veil over the mundane, everyday life. And yet, for all of the stability of that life, near the ocean, near the horizon of possibility, I did not learn how to pare my heart. It was as heavy as the day I set foot on that golden slab of rock.

“All I Have To Do Is Dream” (Leo Kottke)

Tom folded the Greyhound ticket and tucked it into the pocket of his coat. The bus wasn’t coming. Sunset spilled onto the deck of the station, saturating the wood boards and darkening the cracks between them. He eyed the lengthening presence of his shadow. Perhaps the whole situation called for a moment of repose. He wasn’t going to see Candice for a while, that much he knew. But the sun was drifting, the fields were orchestrating their lush interludes, and the first lamplights of the neighborhood were blinking into view. He sighed, shook his head, stepped off the station deck, and began to walk the long way home.

“Scherza infida” (George Frideric Handel, Musica Sequenza)

“Camouflager,” he said. “I managed to get kicked out with this little piece of tech nestled in my throat—old Houdini trick, yeah? You won’t even need to verify yourself once you get past the first layer. Just put on some nice clothes and people won’t expect a thing.”

I was still skeptical. “What about the guards?”

“They won’t notice, either. This is military-grade tech.” He leaned back in his chair, ran his fingers through his moussed hair, and gazed across the room with a glassy look. “Bell. You’re gonna be free. You walk past those bastards with your head held high, yeah? And you walk through those gates and you get yourself a new life. You’re too good for this godawful place. I’m telling you. We all want you to have something special in this life. You gotta live, for us, yeah? Go out there and live for the people who can’t.”

“Tourtour” (Wim Mertens)

“What’s the matter?”

“The birds.” Kaya’s voice shook.

“I’ll close the window if—”

“No.” She swallowed thickly. “No, it’s alright. I just—I’d always wake up to the sound of bombs. Long as I can remember. And now… now I’m listening to birdsongs.”

“Oh, Ky. They’ve always been there. The birds never stopped singing.”

“Open Letter To Duke” (Charles Mingus)

The seasons on the planet June work as such: three periods of time, each marked by distinct changes in the planet’s light, make up one light cycle. The changes in light are caused by the triumvirate of moons, or rather, their formations in front of the system star. The first period is half-light, when shadows are flat and illumination goggles are still required for traveling. The second period is brim-light, when everything stands with a jaunty glow and there’s enough light to go naked sun-sailing. The third period is split-light, or as it is affectionately known to June’s inhabitants, silverlight. As its name suggests, this period is distinguished by its silver aura and the dazzling showers of reflection stones.

“Get Rhythm” (Johnny Cash)

Through cobblestone streets, church bells dance under the high sun of noon. A lone wanderer, clad in coat and hat, scuffs his heels against the ground on which he skips.

“I Would Die For U” (Prince)

“You two seemed cozy during the ride home,” she sneered, elbowing her friends. They giggled along with plastic expressions.

“We were tired,” Johnny mumbled. “Piss off.” He looked marginally uncomfortable being squashed shoulder-to-shoulder next to Leo, but he didn’t move.

“Oh, then were you tired before or after you hung out with Mr. Gay-ass for the hundredth time?”

“How many times have I told you people, it’s Geyez!” Leo huffed. “Now piss off and let us have some peace. It’s been a long day.” Johnny shut his eyes and nodded.

“He’ll deny it till his dying breath,” Eli whispered, and the girls let out another series of thin giggles.

“Fuck it!” Leo spat. “I know what you’re getting at! Fuck it all!” He turned to Johnny, eyes shining, and let his voice down to a wobbly hush. “Hey pal. Don’t know if you know this, but I love you. I love you to death, Johnny.”

Johnny and the girls looked stunned. Eli tried to smile, but her mouth fell into a twisted expression of surprise.

After a spell of silence, Johnny crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Sure thing, Leo,” he laughed. “I love you, too. Now don’t you get carried away.”