The Inkless Pen and other Microfictions.

Keep 'em coming. Here’s the next batch of micro-fictions:

The Inkless Pen: He wrote his memoirs with a pen that had no ink. The pages remained white until he died. At his wake, his daughter touched the paper, and the words bled through from the other side, written in the heat of her own fingertips.

The Wrong Floor: The elevator in the hospital has a button for floor "0." Most people ignore it. One day, a tired nurse pressed it by mistake. The doors opened to a lush meadow where every patient who had "passed away" was currently winning a game of tag.

The Lighthouse Keeper: He didn't guide ships; he guided stars. Whenever a star fell, he caught it in a giant net of silk and threw it back into the sky. One night, he caught a star that looked exactly like a girl, and she refused to go back up.

The Pocket Watcher: In a city where time is currency, the rich live for centuries while the poor trade their minutes for a loaf of bread. A beggar once gave a child his last ten seconds; the child grew up to invent a way to make the sun stand still, giving everyone a lunch break that lasted forever.

The Glass Forest: Every tree was made of crystal. If you whispered a secret to a leaf, it would grow until the branch snapped. By winter, the forest was a graveyard of broken glass and the loud, overlapping voices of every lover who had ever walked through it.

The Invisible Dog: He walked a leash that held nothing but air. Neighbors laughed until the "nothing" barked at a burglar and left teeth marks on a pair of very real trousers. Now, the whole neighborhood buys invisible treats, just in case.

The Door in the Desert: It stood alone in the sand—a mahogany door with no walls. Most travelers walked around it. One curious poet opened it and stepped through; he didn't end up on the other side of the sand, but in the middle of a crowded jazz club in 1940s New York.

The Reflection's Revenge: I noticed my reflection was wearing a different tie. I changed mine to match, but then it took off its glasses. By the end of the day, my reflection was the one sitting on the sofa, and I was the one trapped behind the cold surface of the bathroom mirror.

The Butterfly Effect: A scientist traveled back in time and accidentally stepped on a single blue flower. When he returned to the present, the sky wasn't blue anymore; it was a vibrant, pulsing violet, and humans had developed wings instead of thumbs.

The Song of the Wind: The wind doesn't just howl; it’s actually singing the names of everyone who is currently lost. If you listen closely during a storm, you might hear your own name, which is the wind’s way of telling you that you’ve finally found where you belong.