All posts tagged #micro fiction

End of the World

doomsday

(micro fiction, 1 minute read)

The missiles were approaching. People panicked.

“Dammit,” men whispered.

“Oh, Lord,” women sobbed.

“Get me more funding! Quickly!” Yelled the Minister of Defense.

“Didn’t I warn you?” Shrieked a Nobel laureate.

“Oh, God. Why now?” Cried a middle-aged woman in a wedding dress.

Senators and their secretaries sobbed silently.

Only the President retained his composure.

“It’s over, but I am with you, my friends,” he typed and twitted the message.

For sure, a man like him was not elected for nothing!

A Break Up That Failed

he-and-she-2

Women mature sooner than men, that’s a fact! I was twenty two when I learned it. I was a silly, ambitious lad, so I think I deserved to get into the story which I am going to tell you today.

My girlfriend and I were madly in love with each other, so we decided to try living together and moved in to a tiny apartment with nothing but a table, two chairs and a huge bed, which occupied nearly all the space of the room.

After a month or two, we realized that neither of us had been prepared – all the responsibility, chores, and sacrifice, and the work made each of us focus on different things, so our romance, flirting and passion began to fade down. I could not help noticing that my girl did not love me as much as before anymore.

This troubled my mind for a couple of weeks. I walked around collecting little signs of her growing indifference. This made me quite restless, I tortured myself with suspicions and doubts, but I had no idea what to do. One evening she came home really late and said she had taken an extra job at a men’s hair salon. That was the last drop. I had to find out about her feelings for me.

The most upsetting thing was her attitude: she remained calm and confident, as if nothing had changed at all. She had always been kind of reserved and avoided talking about her feelings, but now… how the hell could I guess what she was feeling?

Well, I needed to test her, so I wrote her a letter. I wrote I was tired of living together and suggested a break. It was bullshit, of course, I never wanted a break, but how else could I check if she still loved me or not?

Well, after a day of bad doubts, I finally left that letter on her pillow, so she could easily find it as soon as she entered the room. I wanted to hear her reaction, so as soon as I heard a click at the door, I hid under the bed and started to listen.

I was hoping to hear her gasp, or probably moan, or sob, but she sat on the bed and read it in silence. There were two or three endless minutes of silence, then she reached for a pen and started to write.

She stood up, changed her clothes, brushed her hair and… murmured a song to herself! She sounded happy rather than sad or upset! I was shocked. I lay in my shelter and nearly moaned myself. I was grieving in helplessness, I cursed the idea of writing that letter, and I hated my life, where the woman I loved did not care a bit about me!

That was not the end of my torture, however. I heard how she dialed a number and all of a sudden her cheerful, excited voice said into the receiver: “Hi, darling, I’m almost ready… My stupid boyfriend? He left me, it’s over… at last! I’m coming right now. See you, darling. Bye.”

Then she hгng up and left the apartment.

I don’t remember how I got up to my feet. I was shocked, confused, bewildered, and smashed. I walked around the bed, and there was her note on my pillow. It said:

“I can see your long feet sticking out from under the bed. Please, get out. I am off to a bakery store for a moment, I will bring you your favorite pie. Boil some eggs, I am starving. Love you. Wife.”

2 Comments

by Iryna Tymchenko on November 26, 2016 • Permalink

Posted in Rina's Short Stories

Tagged #micro fiction, #Rina's fiction, #RinaTim, #what women want

Posted by Iryna Tymchenko on November 26, 2016

https://rinatim.com/2016/11/26/a-break-up-that-failed/

Beerlosopher Vasya… or the Russian Approach to Dating

flash_beer-lovers

“If you don’t know where you are going, any road will get you there.” Lewis Carroll

One day philosopher Vasya took his beer and decided to leave.

“Hey! You! Are you going to pay?” The saleswoman yelled at his back.

“I could pour you with money,” he said, slowly turning around, “but money is transient.” He hiccupped. “I could enrich you spiritually, but that would be only words. No one can make you rich, only you – yourself – can.”

“Where can I find you, Teacher?” Murmured bewildered saleswoman.

“If you don’t know where you are going, any road will get you there,” quoted philosopher Vasya, and added, “You won’t have to look for me, I will come by myself… as soon as I run out of beer.”

flash_beerlosopher_vasya_kiosk3

“The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step.” Lao Tzu

Later that day, philosopher Vasya came along to fetch a new bottle of his favorite drink, but the saleswoman was already closing the kiosk.

“Will you give me some drink of enlightenment?” He asked humbly.

“My working day is over. Come tomorrow, I will gladly give you some,” replied the saleswoman.

“But I need it now, because now I’m closer to enlightenment than ever.”

“The kiosk is closed,” she said sharply. “I can see no sense in following my own footsteps.”

Philosopher Vasya looked right into her eyes. After a long, thoughtful pause, he uttered: “The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step.” He raised his forefinger. “You can’t come to enlightenment unless you change your Self, and changing your habits could be the very first step on the way.”

He turned around with dignity and headed for another kiosk.

flash_russian-beer-dried-fish

“Think big thoughts but relish small pleasures.” H. Jackson Brown, Jr.

Next day, on his way to the beer source, philosopher Vasya could not restrain himself and relieved his physical need right near the kiosk wall. The saleswoman saw this.

“What are you doing?!” She shrieked and ran out of the kiosk.

She had beautiful shoulders and gorgeous hips.

“Think big thoughts, but relish small pleasures,” replied philosopher Vasya, as he eyed her up. Her gorgeous hips swayed like fishermen’s boats during the tide. Being angry only made her look better.

She approached him.

“Tell me this,” she enquired rather sternly, “this wonderful drink that grants you true knowledge… it seems to pass through you without a stop. If so, why do you need it at all?”

“All words of wisdom must be rethought,” philosopher Vasya announced. “This foamy drink, which shows us the way, passes through me, that’s true, but it sharpens my feelings and opens my mind, so I can get to know my Self.”

“Next time, keep your Self away from my kiosk,” said the saleswoman briskly, and the gorgeous hips disappeared behind the door.

flash_diogen

“The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing.” Socrates

Later that week, the saleswoman put a corked bottle in front of philosopher Vasya.

“Can you open it for me?” He asked.

“I can’t open this foamy source of wisdom for you, I have no opener,” she replied.

“Our daily mishaps are just rocks on the road. We should not neglect them, however, as they are our steps toward enlightenment,” answered philosopher Vasya and opened the bottle by hitting it hard against the kiosk wall.

“I don’t know…” started the saleswoman, but philosopher Vasya had already turned his back to her.

“The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing,” he said over his shoulder and took a swig of his drink in thirst for enlightenment.

flash_diogen

“I have just three things to teach: simplicity, patience, compassion.

These three are your greatest treasures.”
Lao Tzu

The next time philosopher Vasya turned up at the kiosk window, the saleswoman was not in it. A head in the window sneered as philosopher Vasya approached; it produced an empty beer bottle with a note sticking out of it. The note was handwritten and smelled of a ladies perfume. It said:

“Simplicity, patience, compassion. These three are your greatest treasures. If you find them appealing, you can learn them from me, but remember: one’s got to deserve them by diligent, daily labor. You’ll be planting tomatoes and ploughing my land, only then you may hope that your foamy drink of enlightement will appear on your table… sometimes.”