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Within A Forest Dark

~ fiction and reflections by Margaret Sefton

Within A Forest Dark

Tag Archives: microfiction

Inktober: Escape

05 Sunday Sep 2021

Posted by Margaret Sefton in 50 word fiction, Inktober2021, writers in quarantine, Writers of Central Florida

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fentanyl, Inktober, microfiction

I begin today this year’s fall-fifty-word-challenge. Some of these small pieces may be kitschy; some may be tongue-in-cheek; and some may not have as much to do with Halloween as with the darker aspects of life in general. I confess I wrote this one sans prompt. I intend to post some prompts for those interested in participating.—Margaret

Unkempt Angel, Wayne S. Grazio (Abandoned Mauseleum, Manila Chinese Cemetery, Manila, Philippines) flickr

Sitting on the toilet lid, she slumps against the bathroom wall, her eyes fixed on the shower curtain, the spoon fallen to the floor, blood trickling down her arm.

They found her blue-lipped. Her sister said it was China Girl, come to take her from the pain.

My New Podcast: Audio, little green door

01 Saturday May 2021

Posted by Margaret Sefton in audio recording, dark story spinner podcast, writers in quarantine, Writers of Central Florida

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dark story spinner podcast, microfiction, telling stories out loud

sketchbook by Jane Cornwall (quote from Marie Howe), flickr

I made a recording of my last blogpost. And I have started a podcast on Spotify. I hope to have a Youtube channel as well. With both venues, I am primarily interested in storytelling.

I have really missed gathering for public readings during the pandemic. Recording stories has been a longtime desire, even before the world changed so dramatically. WordPress made it so easy for me to take this step when they directed me to the Anchor platform.

This is a beginner’s efforts, but I hope you will enjoy. — Meg

little green door

30 Friday Apr 2021

Posted by Margaret Sefton in microfiction, writers in quarantine, Writers of Central Florida, writing to a prompt

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microfiction, prompt based fiction, Weird fiction

Here is a fairly unrevised response to a writing prompt from a writing group meeting a couple of weeks ago. I wrote this in my favorite little 4×7 spiral notebook I use to write fiction and track expenses and doctors’ appointments. I did not write this on a keyboard, neither did anyone else. And when we shared our results out loud, we couldn’t always tell what we’d written! But I do think there is something to be gained from putting thoughts on paper. Ok, the prompt was as follows or I remember it as follows: Someone is lost or in danger and someone else shows the way to a hiding place. [We had five minutes to write.]

wood by Daniel Stark, flickr

She felt alone, abandoned, recently expelled from her husband’s home. Her sisters and mother were far away in the hills. She sought shelter in the forest. The trees looked the same – uncompromising sentries, impenetrable gaze. Something tapped her on the shoulder. There was the sound of dry leaves like crackling skin. “I have room for you,” said a tree, “in a quiet place inside.” And the tree made her small, and she walked into a space between the arches of its roots and she opened a little green wooden door labeled #7. A kettle was on over a tiny stove and a fire of moss crackled on a tiny stone hearth. She lay upon a cushion of leaves and listened to the creaking of the tree trunk, its sighs the low moaning an old spiritual. She felt herself drift down, down into a dark pool and she dreamt of poppies and warm springs.

My first attempt at audio! Well, I have recorded a story for a journal, but this is my first attempt for the blog. You can also follow my podcast on Spotify. I am a beginner, so please have mercy. But I do hope you enjoy.

Dance

02 Saturday May 2020

Posted by Margaret Sefton in 50 word fiction, coronavirus fiction, dark easter micro, writers in quarantine

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faith, healing science, microfiction

If you want to buy or use this photo please contact me - info@zabara.orgYou can see other my photos and slideshows on my website - www.zabara.org

Tango in Black, Zabara Alexander, flickr

A magic man came to town. Promised me I would dance. (I couldn’t walk.) Offered me his hand. (If I took it I would change.) Taking it, I felt electric. I felt tears. I didn’t want him to see me cry. But he did and smiled. I began to move.

Bunny

02 Thursday Apr 2020

Posted by Margaret Sefton in 50 word fiction, dark easter micro, micro horror

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coronavirus, Easter, microfiction

flickr

Toy rabbit (taken for “Smith’s Weekly), Sidney, 1945, Sam Hood

Before the travel ban I flew to attend a funeral. Everyone wore gloves and masks. The large man beside me spilled over into my seat. His unshorn feet and hands were a large hairy bunny’s. He smiled at me with an unmasked face. There was blood in his teeth.

bitter

26 Tuesday Nov 2019

Posted by Margaret Sefton in 50 word fiction, 50flashNov19, microfiction

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microfiction, peace, releasing bitterness

flying_mind__by_charllieearts_ddl1pc9-fullview

flying mind by Charlie arts, DeviantArt

Do not let bitterness build up within you. Let it flow out in your tears, flowing out of you and down and around, becoming lakes and ponds, rivers meeting with the sea and supporting creatures, evaporating and feeding life, becoming rain that quenches fire and thirst, renewing, refreshing, sustaining, gentling.

pluck

25 Monday Nov 2019

Posted by Margaret Sefton in 50 word fiction, 50flashNov19, microfiction

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family lore, family meals, microfiction

Tasty Mess by Emma Royle, flickr

Tasty Mess by Emma Royle, flickr

Granny’s housekeeper Maimie plucked the chickens and wrung their necks. There once was a chicken running around with its head backward because Maimie let go too early. You had to be first at the table first for Maimie’s legendary fried chicken or you were SOL.

 

 

stuff

25 Monday Nov 2019

Posted by Margaret Sefton in 50 word fiction, 50flashNov19, microfiction

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homeless, microfiction, thanksgiving

Homeless Woman and her Dog, Simon Whitaker, flickr

Homeless Woman and her Dog, Simon Whitaker, flickr

The homeless lady we hosted for Thanksgiving brought all her stuff. The best was her dog. She had him do tricks. She also gave us each a trinket. At some point she pocketed some silver and a few of Daddy’s coins. We couldn’t believe Mama and Daddy just laughed.

turkey

25 Monday Nov 2019

Posted by Margaret Sefton in 50 word fiction, 50flashNov19, microfiction

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family lore, grandparent, microfiction

bass_nroll by NonnoJ, flickr

bass_nroll by Nonnol, flickr

When Papa was angry it was said he pointed with the electric knife he was using to carve the turkey. It was also said he shot at Mama’s spaniel. But I only knew him as the sleepy bear I leaned on while he drank scotch and yelled at Walter Cronkite.

pumpkin

24 Sunday Nov 2019

Posted by Margaret Sefton in 50 word fiction, 50flashNov19, memoir, microfiction

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family, microfiction, thanksgiving

xan-griffin-IM8AJKDavbk-unsplash

Photo by Xan Griffin on Unsplash

I remember the year my sister made the pumpkin dump cake. It was the year we had Thanksgiving at St. George’s. It was the year sunsets hung in the moist air. The year we didn’t want to stress Mom. The year the surf was a disintegrating bridal veil.

prepare

24 Sunday Nov 2019

Posted by Margaret Sefton in 50 word fiction, 50flashNov19, microfiction, Original Microfiction

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dog friends, microfiction, relationships

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Sutter by Patrick Maloney, flickr

I always had to prepare for Dan’s visits. His golden smashed the Waterford and peed on my Europlush mattress. I skipped our last date, my little white dog and I making a quiet exit out the back to the beach while Dan and his “blond” waited on the stoop.

cinnamon

23 Saturday Nov 2019

Posted by Margaret Sefton in 50 word fiction, 50flashNov19, microfiction

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disappointment, financial struggle, microfiction

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Red Shoes by Paul Bence, flickr

She wore a red dress to the bank. When she was young the doctor said of the  cinnamon candy stain on her tongue: “Now she will grow outward.” He and her mother had laughed. She would not get the loan. In the bathroom mirror she noticed the fraying neckline.

smoke

21 Thursday Nov 2019

Posted by Margaret Sefton in 50 word fiction, 50flashNov19, microfiction

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microfiction, relationships, smoking

cigarettes in a theatre, megan, flickr

cigarettes in a theatre, megan, flickr

I started to smoke when I was thirty eight and away at graduate school. It was the exact opposite of my world. I accepted hand rolled cigarettes from a man not my then husband. When I see someone else making these seemingly innocuous decisions, I want to tell them: Don’t.

leaves

17 Sunday Nov 2019

Posted by Margaret Sefton in 50 word fiction, 50flashNov19, Florida micro, Thanksgiving micro

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bizarre family, family thanksgiving, microfiction

Underwater Thanksgiving at Rainbow Springs, FL, Florida Memory, flickr

Underwater Thanksgiving at Rainbow Springs, FL, Florida Memory, flickr

I will miss Aunt Maureen’s Thanksgiving oilcloths, wreaths of fake fall leaves, tablescapes of pilgrims and Indians sitting down to carve a huge, disproportionate, anachronistic cranberry jelly complete with the rings of the can. She forgot to wear a bra last year and we had to resort to plan b.

fire

17 Sunday Nov 2019

Posted by Margaret Sefton in 50 word fiction, 50flashNov19, fairytale, fairytale retelling micro, microfiction

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Incorrigible children, microfiction, The Red Shoes

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Cowboy boots by Kulani Odum, flickr

I had no truck with Granny’s warning fairy tale of the red shoes. I insisted on wearing the fire red cowgirl boots to church, danced in the narthex, stood up when the congregation sat down, rolled up my bulletin and pretended to smoke. Daddy preached while Mama ’bout died.

moon

16 Saturday Nov 2019

Posted by Margaret Sefton in 50 word fiction, 50flashNov19, microfiction

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microfiction, moon sign, Native spirituality

Above the South Fork

Above the South Forth, Kerry, flickr

When my father called me Satan, my grandmother said “Come west. You were born under the snow moon, not meant for this.” Hiking from her cabin on the Conejos, my feet in the gravel, cliffs matching my ascent, the silence and sky held me.

split

15 Friday Nov 2019

Posted by Margaret Sefton in 50 word fiction, 50flashNov19, flash fiction, mental health micro

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bipolar, mental health, microfiction

IMG_5958 by Gloria Williams

IMG_5958 by Gloria Williams, flickr

The onset of bipolar was that night in her dorm room, a split from all of the slow sad suicidal days before until that moment she heard a voice she thought was God. Next day: euphoria, religious elation, creativity. She graduated, went home, told her parents. “Take Benadryl” they advised.

decay

13 Wednesday Nov 2019

Posted by Margaret Sefton in 50 word fiction, 50flashNov19, fantastical fiction, Fantastical Village, microfiction

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ecofiction, fantastical forest, microfiction

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Porcini by Nikita, flickr

Jacinda and her tiny people lived in the mushrooms of Muir Woods. It was very dry. Her house was decaying prematurely. When she came home from foraging she tried to slam the door to show her frustration but the dehydrated stalk meant the nice arched door no longer fit.

glare

09 Saturday Nov 2019

Posted by Margaret Sefton in 50 word fiction, 50flashNov19, microfiction

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

boa constrictor, microfiction, mother daughter relationship

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Boa, Jonathan Kriz, flickr

North Carolina summer night at Mama’s, with Jeff playing with the boa as it arcs and stretches toward the chandelier, the sweet scent of mountain laurel wafting through the window, Jeff and I doubled in fits of laughter, high. Mama turning on the light, glares. Party over.

After the soccer game

14 Saturday Jan 2017

Posted by Margaret Sefton in microfiction

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childhood, flash fiction, microfiction

n17_369-by-vivs_mol

N17_369 by Vivs_mol.jpg

Three loose limbed gazelles, free of shoes, of hair stays, of parents, of brothers, running full tilt under a black sky, a full moon, the green grass under bare feet, a sprint from post to post, long hair liquid, laughter escaping lungs a long held secret.

Margaret Sefton

Margaret Sefton

Margaret’s work has appeared or is forthcoming in Cowboy Jamboree, Corvus Review, The Journal of Radical Wonder, Shambolic Review, The Chamber Magazine, Tiny Frights, Demonic Household, Use Your Words, S/tick, A Thousand and One Stories, Flash Frontier, Writing in a Woman’s Voice, Blue Fifth Review, Bizarro Central, Honey Pot, Alyss, Best New Writing, The Dos Passos Review, Ginosko Literary Journal, Still Crazy, Asylum Ink, Quail Bell, Danse Macabre, Dark Sky Magazine, Chrome Baby, The Strange Edge, Beakful, Serving House Journal, Corium Magazine, Double Room, Emprise Review, Connotation Press, Atticus Review, Apocrypha and Abstractions, DecomP, The Quarterly Conversation, Get Lit: Round One Flash Fiction, A-minor magazine, Wufniks, 971 MENU, Trainwrite, State of Imagination, Pure Slush, Dark Chaos, Blink Ink, 52/250, Kaffe at Katmandu, Relief, and Colored Chalk. She received her BA in Literature from Wake Forest University, her MA in Adult Education from Denver Seminary, and her MFA in Fiction from Seattle Pacific University. Many of her stories are set in Florida, a place she has considered home since girlhood. Her work may also be found on Medium and Simily.

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