Microfiction by Sara Veara

Left at the Altar

One August evening, a young couple is deep in preparation for the big day. The moment they would become man and wife is approaching. The bride is getting her dress zipped, the groom is sliding on his tie, and the final touches to makeup and hair are completed. The bride stands at the end of the aisle. The groom gazes at her, as she starts to make her way down the aisle, she stops. She looks up at the altar, turns around, and starts to move. She runs back the aisle, grabs the lobster from the reception, and bolts. 

I Should Have Never Come Here

I walk over the rugged and rough terrain of the forest floor, approaching the floating bridge that sways in front of me. Gazing around, there is no one else to be found.  In the distance a light, soft, breathy voice starts to call out to me. Listening to the voice, I place my foot onto the bridge.  My hands grasp the slimy, slick ropes used to assist with balance. Suddenly, there is the sound of tearing rope and the light breathy voice starts to cackle. I think to myself, I should have never come here…

Forgotten

Laying in a hospital bed, alone but alive, a woman suffers from amnesia. The woman wakes up from her deep slumber. The nurse finally gave the okay for the family to enter the room, as they waited all day to visit. They rush to the woman’s bedside and greet her with many hugs. The woman laying in the bed gives them a troubling look and says, “Who are you people?” They explain that she had an accident and lost her memory. The woman looks at her family with fear, “Does this mean I have been forgotten?”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s