These micro tales are written for the following prompts:
Flicking her long brown hair over her shoulder, Daphne marched towards the counter, her chin held high.
“I want to speak to the manager,” She demanded, “Its about this visa rubbish.”
Here she extracted the letter which proclaimed her Visa had been denied, and as the woman’s eyes widened, she knew the decision would be reversed.
“I’m sorry Ms Lilliput, but you failed to meet the criteria.”
“Really?” The threat in her tone didn’t pass the other by, “And what criteria would that be? I’m a direct descendant.”
Here the woman looked her up and down, “You’re too tall.”
Darcy sighed, she was going solo tonight, and given Dom’s reaction to her latest practical joke it was for the best. Anyway, there was a constellation, she wouldn’t have to get dressed up.
She’d resolved to buy something new, but her favourite jacket would suffice and putting it on she hurried from the apartment.
Arriving she was surprised to see Dom’s motorbike, but it was only when people began to laugh, she got suspicious.
“Take your jacket off quick.”
Hurriedly she complied, stifling a groan as she saw Dom’s handiwork.
“No one pranks a cancer and gets away with it.”
Standing at the brow of the boat the pair stared out at the horizon, watching as the sun commenced its ascent.
“So, this is it?”
“Appears so, though I’d like to know what we’re going to do now.”
Marty raised his glass, sculling the last of his champagne, “There’s an island over there.”
“We could sail to it.”
“If we knew how to,” The frustration made Marty flinch, “Seriously what made you pull up anchor when the crew went for a swim?”
“I thought we could be pirates.”
“Great idea, but perhaps we could’ve learnt how to sail first.”