The Story Bay

 This is the second part of the series Reimagining Fiction, The Little Mermaid. To read the first part, click here. Floundrel gathers his contacts and spreads the word of this around the kingdom. As one would expect, they come up empty-handed. He had almost given up hope, but was scared to return to the princess empty-handed. He would’ve run away; had he not been intrigued by a poster that hung on the side alley. He looked over the poster; it was an advertisement for Ursula’s clinic. Apparently, this Ursula was a master of the arcane arts and she could make everyone’s wishes come true, for a price. He decided that desperate times called for desperate measures. Floundrel grabbed the poster and headed to the address on it. As he approached the clinic, he was greeted by the receptionists, Flotsam and Jetsam. They took down his details and took him through the back door into a dark room on in the back of the clinic. There, he was greeted by a middle-aged witch whose best years were...

Here's an honest, real-life version of the beloved children's tale, The Little Mermaid: In the darkest depths of the high seas, hidden away, was the beautiful kingdom of Atlantis. A kingdom full of riches, gaudy castles, and happy aristocrats. A kingdom where all kinds of sea-dwelling creatures lived in harmony. Some of them were forced into labor, as they were used as transport, transporting their own kind on their backs, and pulling carts through the seas. In the kingdom lived a beautiful little mermaid. Her name was Ariel. Ariel was the daughter of the mighty king Triton that ruled over the kingdom and all things that called the ocean their home. “It’s another beautiful day in the kingdom of Atlantis” said the little mermaid. “Yes, princess.” Said her servant, Flounder. “We will depart soon to the surface in search of human artifacts.” Said Ariel. “As you wish, princess.” Said Flounder. For Ariel was fascinated by those who lived on the surfac...

“Profile: The victim appears to be in her late twenties, Caucasian, blonde hair, in prime physical shape. The victim’s eyes have been gorged out and bite marks of an animal origin are visible near her genitalia. Cause of death: Internal organ damage and bleeding. The scene suggests that the victim struggled with the assailant. The furniture around the house is broken save for one wooden chair found outside the house." The night was brightly lit with a full moon, and yet had a certain chill to it. It was something straight out of a Stephen King novel. Sargent McDonnel had just started with the graveyard shift when he got a call of a struggle from some worried neighbors. What awaited him in the house was a scene fit for nightmares. A young, beautiful lay dead on the floor, with her organs spewing out of her body. The broken furniture and splashes of blood bore witness to the grotesque scene of the place and told them of the event that had happened there that night. T...

A microfiction is a super short, bite-size piece of writing that has multiple interpretations, and manages to convey a fairly substantial story or message in just a few words. Here are some of my microfictions. Hope you enjoy them. 1. "The spotlight is yours," they said, as they pushed the pedestal on her. 2.  "The usual then," Bartender asked. "No, just one," I said. 3. The labs were canceled. 4. Do I suck? 5.  After everyone left, she did endless pirouettes on his grave. 6. Geez. You were just supposed to take care of the holes. 7. "He won't remember when he's older," Said his father. Hit us up with your microfiction tales here

"Oof! It smells in here." I thought as I was being stretched and rubbed against people on the subway. My owner has a car, but for some reason, he prefers to use public transportation. I think he might be stalking someone. Ah, I almost forgot, I am Sir Jack. I am a sentient Jacket. I can think, feel and ugh! Smell things. It's 2020, it'd be unwise for you assume that I don't have feeling s. Let me tell y'all a story. I was on my owner, with my hot body wrapped around his. I saw this jacket in the office. He was Gucci. He had zips in all the right places. I wanted my owner to get closer so I could get a better look, but alas, he doesn't really swing that way. I tried to swallow my feelings, "Cool your jets, it's just hormones" I said. But the heart wants what the heart wants. That night, all I could think about was the jacket I saw in the office The way his hot tanned leather wrapped tightly around the body, the way his zips teased me...