What’s a Micro Story?
What’s a Micro Story? I have been a fan of Short Stories since I was a kid. Maybe it’s because I’m a slow reader and like the satisfaction of being able to enjoy a full story from beginning to end in one sitting. As an adult, I got hooked on what was then the NPR show, Selected Shorts – great actors reading notable short stories in front of a live audience at the Symphony Space in New York, In fact, for a few years, my wife and I subscribed to the series and attended the live shows. What a kick to hear Meryl Streep, Jerry Orbach and David Sedaris read live just for the joy of it.
Anyway, Selected Shorts dedicated one evening just to Micro Short Stories under 250 words. They blew me away. The challenge and the reward of telling a full story and conveying poignant emotion so concisely was an eye-opener for me.
So here I include an experiment, the first in my third series of three connected microstories as a freebie to you. The first series and the subsequent stories in this series can be found exclusively on my Instagram account – @CharlesLevinAuthor. The stories are paired with a photo to set the mood in the unique Instagram world. Follow me on Instagram for the latest installments and future series – all for free. There are links to the first, second and fourth series at the end of this post. Email me back and let me know what you think of my writing ‘Experiment.’ I’d love to hear from you.
3.1 Destiny Delayed
Lea looks up from her book, The Nightingale, and sips the last of her bitter coffee.
No sleep again. Where to go from here? No leads, and he killed again last night. This time the head was missing. The rest of the body hanging upside down, one leg tied to a tree limb. What could that mean? City noise, the smell of exhaust, and heat invade through the open window. She throws the book in the trash on top of the coffee grounds.
In the bathroom, she pulls off her baggy T-shirt, drops her shorts and looks in the mirror. She pulls down on the puffy bag under her right eyelash exposing her bloodshot eye. Too much Johnny Walker last night. She lifts both breasts in her hands and smirks. Not bad.
Shower, dress, gun, badge, a last swig of courage. Three locks undone, out the door. Another day.
Hamed is waiting in a dull gray Crown Vic, engine rumbling.
“You look like shit, partner,” he says.
“I love you too,” she says. “Where to?”
“They found the missing head on a merry-go-round in the park.”
“Not trying to be funny. Was it moving?” She asks.
Hamed stares in the rearview mirror. “Yeah, it was going round and round.”
Follow me on Instagram for the latest installments and future series