"Teach me," the hero said.
"Wait, what?" said the Evil Overlord.
"You're running a huge organisation. How do you align everyone's ideals?"
"You want your allies to share all your ideals?"
"Of course!"
"Well, we don't care about that. We can always betray each other later, after we've won."
Isa awoke sore. Exiting her sleeping bag took ages, and for once she was glad that gravity would not force her to use a lot of muscles. She checked the feed for an update on the Tori's trajectory: another thirty hours in blackout. Slowly, she made her way to the common room, where the rest of the crew were having breakfast. A groan escaped her as she fastened herself to one of the seats.
"Bad?" Ada handed Isa a coffee pouch, caring worry in her voice.
"Bad." Isa groaned and devoured her coffee. "But good bad." She gave Ada a crooked smile.
"Good." Ada smirked and nodded.
"Anything new on our shadow?" Isa looked at Captain Konrad.
"Nothing since we went dark." He shook his head. "Let's hope it stays that way."
"We're closing in on the rocks that made us alter course." Bjorn noted. "Closest we'll get to anything solid for a while."
"Ready for today's training?" Rip asked Isa, rubbing their hands with anticipation.
"If it makes you happy." Isa sighed.
"It really does." Rip answered, their face lighting up.
32/X
A face appeared through the hole on the other side of the wall. Or, more accurately, a mouth with a finger pressed across puckered lips appeared and demanded silence.
“Ssshh!” The finger dropped down and the lips moved, slowly and deliberately. “Not a sound.”
Heavy footfalls hurried towards him.
He slowed his breathing and turned to face the doorway. Silent and motionless he waited, sword in one hand and a dagger in the other.
The sound of running stopped.
A bureaucrat quit his job managing pipes, moved into a riverside hut, and named himself after a useless banana tree. Then he wrote seventeen syllables about a frog hitting water — the most translated poem in Japanese history. His name was Matsuo Bashō.
The #MastoPrompt for Tuesday 5 May 2026 is:
The poem or story can include the prompt word or be about the prompt word.
@ me, if you like, or just include the #MastoPrompt tag (to allow people to follow or filter their feeds), or keep your work to yourself - all the options are good as long as you're writing.
If you're including an image please do include alt-text if you’re able to.
#Writing #SmallPoems #Poetry #Fiction #MicroFiction #SmallStories
Heavy footfalls close behind, spurred him to greater speed.
Sharp left.
Across a small square.
Into a narrow alley.
His pursuers slowly lost ground.
Into an abandoned house, through empty rooms.
Out of one building and into another, and another.
Then… nowhere.
The escape route ended abruptly.
Eyes frantically searched for options, but other than a fist-sized hole in the wall to his right, there was no other way to get past that final barrier into friendly territory.
To whomsoever may be interested...
I will producing a threaded story using the #smallstories hashtag with #series and a number. (1-23)
The first "instalment" will be published shortly.
All rights remain with the original author (me) with credit being given to @JeanieBurrell for getting me to put words together for the first time in a long time.
Isa made her way to her first self-defense lesson. Gliding along the handrails, she wondered how exactly that would work without gravity.
Rip was already waiting in the ship's small gym, talking to Marga.
"There you are." Rip gave Isa a big smile. "Buckle up." They pointed at a harness which was attached to the floor using several thick, elastic bands. "Can't use the magnets, they use too much power."
"Let's try this." Isa donned the harness, and the bands automatically adjusted until her shoulders, arms, and feet felt a comfortable pressure. Marga and Rip both put on their own devices, forming a small triangle with Isa.
"Alright, warmup first; follow my lead." Rip sank into a squat.
An hour later, Isa lay on the floor wheezing. Rip handed her a towel, and Marga had fetched water for everyone. It took a while until Isa could muster the will to peel out of the harness and drink her water.
"Why did I just do that?" She asked, floating with her eyes closed and the towel wrapped around her head.
"Peer pressure?" Marga offered.
"How are you both so fit?" Isa gestured vaguely at them both.
"I've been training for years." Marga said with a hint of pride in her voice.
"And I got so much tech sewn into me, you really shouldn't use me as a reference." Rip grinned. "It's just you against yourself."
"So, how does all of this help?" Isa opened her eyes. "I'll be too tired not to sleep?"
"Sure, that too." Marga smiled. "Other than that, I can only tell you how it helped me. I feel more in control of my own life. Say some asshole on a station gets weird; I know how to protect myself."
"What if they're teched up, too?" Isa asked.
Marga looked at Isa, then at Rip, pointed a finger gun at their chest, and pulled an invisible trigger, causing Rip to collapse dramatically and float away.
"Tomorrow we start weapons training." Rip announced, still floating.
31/X
They looked at the burnt mess.
"Cross 'Cheese slicer' off the list."
"I'm not terribly surprised."
"Me neither, but it's best to be methodical. What's next?"
"Er... Saber? Is that how it's spelled?"
"'I think so? 'Light saber' sounds more feasible than 'light cheese slicer'. Let's build one!"
Troodon
Micro SF/F by O. Westin
asmw
Owen G. Richards - ANTIFAscist
Oddlet - Lovable Weirdos
Steven Cudahy