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Good Narrative Principles

Category Archives: Micro Fiction

Super-short
stories.
Brief flashes
of brilliance.

September 14, 2023
by Lee Eiferman
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Ghost Story: Cheater!

There should absolutely be a warning on Airbnb. Make it a category.  Caution: this property might be haunted. Granted, it was only for a week. But, what a week! What a sneaky, angry spirit! On the other hand, maybe there wasn’t a spirit at all. Maybe I was just imagining the whole thing?

I’m not, let me repeat it, NOT a fan of horror films. I watched ”The Shining” which was more than enough for me.

It all started on the first night. Got in. Was relieved when the special combination worked. It doesn’t always and then you have to figure out how to contact your host. Never fun. We’re unpacking our major haul from Costco. We bought stuff like ten avocados. Thirty nectarines. A case of tonic. Insane shopping. Did a tour. Realized the place was just fine. It had a grill and blender, just like they promised. The magical view of the harbor reflecting the moonlight made me weak in the knees.

I go inside to snag dessert. Take a quick pee. And there, in the mirror, scrawled in lipstick was one word.

“Cheater”

That, my friends, was just the beginning.

September 14, 2023
by Lee Eiferman
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Adventure Story: A Lifetime of Grudges

Hard to think when I’m in screaming pain. Another gunshot sounds. This guy must have ammo to spare or else he is so furious at having squandered his chance to what…kill me? Throttle me? Tell me how I destroyed his what…his life? His chance at greatness?

I haven’t a clue.

I’ll admit I haven’t been exactly a star human. I have my faults. I can be small minded. Manipulative. But trying to imagine who this guy is, let alone why he’s so pissed off at me, is getting me nowhere.

What would Sarah Connor do? Probably stay and fight it out. I have zero fighting skills. Instead, I wrap my ankle with both socks, lean on a sturdy limb and hobble towards a thicket of downed trees.

A perfect hide out for me and probably many generations of ticks.

September 14, 2023
by Lee Eiferman
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Adventure Story: I’m a Sitting Duck

Thing is…I mean, in my defense, I wasn’t prepared to go sailing through the air. I was in the middle of a meditation. You could say that’s the perfect state to be in when circumstances demand you stay flexible. Resilient. Alert.

My body cuts through the tree canopy. I fall hard on my left ankle. I’m missing a shoe.

First thing I do is try to stand. Realize my ankle won’t support my weight. Could be broken. It hurts like a son of a bitch.

Gunshots sound in the distance. They draw closer as if this guy is proudly announcing his location. I figure I bought myself like a five, ten minute advantage.

He calls out my name. How does he know me? Do I know him?

Think, Lee.

Think!

September 14, 2023
by Lee Eiferman
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Adventure Story: On a Morning Just Like This

Woke up crazy early this morning. Sun wasn’t officially up and I’m on the road in quest of my 10K steps. Walked beyond my ordinary route, up the hill, into the woods for no other reason than I didn’t feel like turning around. It had been a tough night.
Thinking it might be a good idea to squeeze in a meditation before heading back, I sat on a log. Took a breath. The customary thrum of anxiety quieted. An image of a tick, worst yet, a spider creeping up my back seemed to dissolve with my next exhale.
I was almost reaching stasis, the point at which indifference outweighs nervous anticipation when I heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps. A voice shouted, HEY YOU!
I register the vague glint of metal. I’m on the run. I can hear him…it’s got to be a him…drawing closer. He’s waving the butt of his rifle…IT’S A RIFLE!!
Which is when I veer off the trail. Jump straight into the deep marsh below.

September 14, 2023
by Lee Eiferman
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Heist Story: The Door is A Jar

What happened? I’ll tell you what happened. I carry in the tray of cookies. We make nice. Make conversation. Talk about knowing the deceased (may he rest in peace) while working side by side in the Diamond District. This was back in the 80’s, before the street had their security act together.

The mourners perk up.  I become a regular story teller. A real Mother Goose.

I ask the Host on behalf of my partner if he could borrow the bedroom for a minute to change into his Santa suit. Don’t want to tie up the bathroom, I add as if I’m the thoughtful type. I show ‘em a corner of the Santa costume. Silk wool blend. Only the best.

The Host is charmed. Jimmy heads off to the bedroom to do his business as I keep up the steady patter. “Oh, and then there was the time…” I’m running out of stories. Jimmy still isn’t out. The cookies are gone. Finished. Consumed. I excuse myself to see what he’s up to.

I find Jimmy staring inside the open safe. It’s empty.

And Jimmy? He’s hopping mad.

September 14, 2023
by Lee Eiferman
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Heist Story: Angel’s Wings

Growing up, my Dad never talked to my class on Career Day. It was understood that safecrackers weren’t invited. Officially, he had a cover job. One year he was a postman. The next, a wine merchant. He remained too disorganized to keep track of which lie he told to whom when, so, I simply made up some sad excuse and left it at that.

My Dad emitted a kind of mischievous friction, like a cross between a movie star and a class clown which attracted unwanted attention in the sleepy suburb where he and my Mom raised us. I can picture my teachers swapping rumors in the break room about my Dad and what he did for a living. He called me his angel. Proudly carried me on his shoulders until we both collapsed in a tickle fest.

I miss him. Probably why I signed up for this lame ass job.

How good is this safecracker? Is there really a jar filled with jewels waiting for us? Will this heist land me on easy street or behind bars?

September 14, 2023
by Lee Eiferman
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Heist Story: Like Pollen on Sunflowers

When people, and by “people” I mean the Bosses, slot me in for a job I tell them that before I can commit, I need you to answer three questions. One: where exactly is the safe. Two: who made it? A name of a manufacturer. Something. A photo would do. And three: approximately how much time do I have?
To my ear, this job smacks of trouble. What’s with the “I’ll tell you about the safe. Blah. Blah. Blah.” NO! That is not blah blah blah. That is everything! I can commune with some locks. Others? I can’t feel. And if you can’t feel ‘em, they don’t open. Another thing: the cute babe assigned to the research arm of the project…I can’t figure her out. She’s like one of those expensive floor models outside my jurisdiction.
And that worries me.
(Photo: Tim Duch)

September 14, 2023
by Lee Eiferman
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Heist Story: Sorry For Your Loss

It’s common knowledge that this guy has a jar filled with diamonds, gold and rubies locked in his safe. I’ll tell you about the safe…where it is…blah blah in a just a minute. Okay. This jar…I’m picturing a quart sized jar about yo big…sitting there…waiting to be taken.

Now, here’s the beauty of this situation. This guy? He’s in hospice. Meaning it’s a question of time.

If say, you…No, not you, you’re picking the safe…YOU…you were to do a bit of research. Find out, where he was born. Was he president of the homeowners’ association? You see where I’m going with this, right?

We walk in. We’re dressed nice. Bring a tray of cookies. Express our condolences. Mention how we knew him through…?

I don’t know. You tell me.

September 14, 2023
by Lee Eiferman
0 comments

Sci-fi Story: Because You Saw Me

After the Swimmer held my gaze, I couldn’t very well permit our connection to slip away. This being who traveled halfway across the galaxy to look me in the eye actually saw me. Me!

I had to respond.

I could feel my core pumping hot. Hotter than when I was lost on the surface of Sigma Seven without liquid for twelve cycles. I could also feel time cracking. I’ve been told I’m impulsive and bend to first thoughts. I knew I shouldn’t be breaking the time/space continuum without the consent of the subject. But, my Swimmer had no way of knowing what it was consenting to.

Instead of getting mired in the confusion generated by two truths, I swoop in. Contrary to what you might have heard, it was not a kidnapping.

We sat on the sand bar trading deep life secrets. Revealing parts of ourselves, the parts we keep hidden. And then…we swallowed each other whole.

It was totally satisfying. Easily worth the four cycles I’ll be spending in solitary as penance.

That is, only if they find us.

Right now, I am what you’d call, “on the run.”