Angela was laying on her back, with Circe's head resting on her thighs as they watched the column of smoke and fire climb into the Florida sky.

"What was the last one called, dearest?" drifted up from her legs.
"Apollo. Fifty four years ago."
"Hmm."

Suddenly Circe sat up, and got to her feet. Angela didn't know what had prompted it, but she leapt to her own feet and started scanning the area for threats. "What is it?"
"There is a power here. Come, we must be polite."
"Yes, ma'am."

Angela followed Circe as she strode across the grassy bank, and stopped near an athletic woman who made her instincts scream 'Danger!'

Circe bowed, and Angela copied her, making sure to bow a little deeper. "My Lady, I had no idea any of you still walked the human world. My apologies for not making the proper observances."

The mystery woman turned her eyes from the rocket's trail, and looked at them, and then looked again. "Circe, you are awakened in this time. How unexpected. My name has been called so many times over the past few years, it has been sufficient even if they do not make the offerings. My brother found the same fifty years ago." Then she turned her eyes to Angela, and looked back at Circe. "A fine working. What is she to you?"
"Bodyguard at first. Partner now."
The woman was suddenly in front of Angela, who found she could not move, or change. Her eyes went wide. The woman reached out and stroked Angela's face. "Fine work, indeed. What brought you to me this day?"
"To pay our respects, nothing more, my lady," Circe's voice was deferential.
The woman was back in front of Circe, and stroking her face the same way. "You come before me without an offering?"
"Only our respect, my lady."
The mystery woman laughed "Oh, dear Circe, you never fail to surprise." Suddenly Angela could move again, and she stepped up next to Circe. "Oh, do not look so fierce little guardian. I will do no harm to your mistress or yourself. You are too perfect a hunter, and I would not break such a work of art. Have my blessing, and continue as you are." With those words, she vanished.

"Circe, who was that?"
"That, my love, was your patron. The Goddess of the Hunt," and she pointed up towards where the rocket had vanished.
"An actual goddess?"
"Oh yes. We will have to establish a shrine if she is back in the world. Even if it is only temporary."

#SF #SFF #IAmWriting #microfic #tootfic #Microfiction #Circe

"You know, when I did my first six week introduction to programming course, the highlight of the final day was getting to use the computer"

"Hahaha, hard core!"

"Glad you think so. This interview will be conducted under Faraday Cage Rules; this laptop runs Minix 2.0 with full source code and manuals. Here's the Book. You have one hour to complete exercise seven from Tanenbaum chapter 5."

#Tootfic #MicroFiction #PowerOnStoryToot #Title_Faraday_Rules

The simulant deployed to impersonate the absconded President was already failing. Guaranteed by its creators to function for three years, within three months it was visibly degrading. Confabulations, freeze-ups, nocturnal free-association ramblegrams—it became necessary to contemplate retrieving the original, despite the cost. The contingency plan was to tear up the moonshot program, cancelling landings, abandoning station construction, and redirecting the practice-flight vehicles into a dark side rendezvous with the ice-planetoid containing the vital remains of the fugitive. Those who had opposed allowing the corpsicle to flee into the far future unpursued were hardly comforted by vindication.

#Tootfic #MicroFiction #PowerOnStoryToot #BonusEdition

"Jacob, we're in a sci-fi series, conversing with our own Author, where we could do literally ANYTHING, and you want to resume our role as a software team?"

"Yes, but with a twist," Jacob responded. "If we can produce a breakthrough product in the confines of our story, then Author can help turn it into a real product in the outside world. I have so many ideas to try, and we'd be the ultimate sandbox!"

"We're in a science FICTION story, remember? Things we come up with in here might not work in the real world at all."

"True, but what if our story could have all the same rules and limitations as the real world? If it works here, it should work there, right?"

_/Jacob, if I can break in here for a moment?/_

"Sure thing, Author!"

_/The idea sounds great on paper, but simulating the real world is notoriously difficult/_

"Ok, but..."

_/I can, however, tell you that your first 14 ideas will definitely not work/_

"Oh, come on!"

#MicroFiction #FlashFiction #TootFic

#ScribesAndMakers 2026.03.30 —Do birds ever feature in your work? Give an example #excerpt.

The current title I am writing in the reluctance series features a day angel. She has wings, owl patterned with blue and white feathers, but Bolt would take exception if you called her a bird. For a woman, it's a slur. It's an SF story, so her being able to fly requires more than pure muscle power. She calls it gravitics. This is very 1st draft and it needs work. I still have to check my aeronautical terminology, but let's take flight anyway!

I heard a familiar whistle, not Boss Mead or one of his shadowy bodyguards, either. Never was. Clink. Jangle. I glanced at the pavement. Three silver coins spun where the cement met the dirty formerly absolute white wall.

I grinned. I flicked my left wing up with a waveguide twist. Immediate anti-gravitic thrust let me throw my feet upward and my torso ahead, cartwheeling with six limbs in a way a saint with all her strength and a piddling four limbs could never do, or most non-athletic feathers. I snatched the coins as I spun past. The bonus conserved momentum let me launch myself forward. Flapping for all I had to level out, I rocketed along the centerline of the road until I could bank west, sideways, into a slot alley. Wingtipping the walls with my crazy velocity—my feathers made a zzzzz sound—tilted diagonally, left primaries warped to the left wall, the rights toward the right, I sent uncompensated gravity torque pushing against those walls. Raw thrust kept me from dropping more than a handswidth per heartbeat to the cobblestones, still frighteningly quickly toward my left wing tip as I accelerated toward an almost to distant exit. Leaves, dirt, and cans shot away in spirals or as if kicked, banging walls or jumping a couple stories upwards.

A lost memory now found surfaced from when I was twelve: I remembered side-flying that got me suspended, trying to embarrass a girl classmate—Sage Peaches was it?—who'd bullied me before I fledged. Had the boy blocking the alley between buildings not dove to the pavement, nothing but feathers would have remained when we would have collided, but flap that was fun! I remembered screaming in glee as I buzz cut the vice headmaster's hair, unaware of my impending disaster.

I stormed over a parked wagon; a load of recycled newspapers snapped and roared as they got sucked aloft behind me. The alley opened up to a dome, across a city street, with light traffic but thankfully no busses or lorries, that often had an upsweep thermal. It did today. I rolled in the turbulence greeting me, back-flapped and pulled up against all the gees I could stand and shot up like a firework easily twenty stories, flapping for all I was worth, barely clearing the curving away wall, squealing in glee until I shed my momentum and leveled off without stalling.

I might be approaching 30, but flying risky maneuvers were the water of life, and my racing heart agreed. Skill or chance, skill prevailed for me. These days, little else fun was guaranteed me but flight. It didn't hurt as I kept my muscles tuned at Sky Dancer's Gym. I banked toward the Residency. A 10º horizon trim set my glide path, feathers buzzing nicely as my racing heart slowed. The News Building tower to its southeast hove into view above the skyscrapers and rooftop trees between.

[Author retains copyright (c)2026 R.S.]

#BoostingIsSharing

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Zygon Day of Visibility only comes once a year. It takes nearly that long to get the slime out of the carpets.

#Tootfic #MicroFiction #PowerOnStoryToot