Moving right along. Here are ten more micro-fictions for the collection:
The Scent of Memory: A perfumer created a scent called "July 1998." Anyone who smelled it immediately felt the heat of a specific sun and the taste of a melted popsicle. He became a billionaire, but he never sold the bottle labeled "Tomorrow," because every time he opened it, it smelled like nothing at all.
The Map of Scars: The old sailor didn't have a paper map. He traced the scars on his arms to navigate the rocky coast. "This one is the reef of 1974," he’d say, touching a jagged white line. "And this one," he pointed to a small notch on his wrist, "is where I met the mermaid who told me to turn back."
The Gravity Thief: He stole the weight from heavy objects. He made anvils float like balloons and boulders bounce like beach balls. He was the most successful thief in the world until he accidentally touched his own chest and drifted off into the stratosphere, still clutching a bag of "light" gold.
The Library of Unwritten Books: In a hidden basement in London, there is a library for books that authors gave up on. I found the sequel to my favorite novel there; the pages were blank, except for a single sentence at the very end: "I just couldn't find a way to make them happy."
The Cloud Herder: He used a long whistle to drive the cumulus clouds across the valley. When the farmers didn't pay their taxes, he herded the rain clouds to the next county. By August, his pasture was the only green patch in a desert of brown, and the clouds sat low on his roof like loyal dogs.
The Wrong Shadow: I walked under a streetlamp and noticed my shadow was holding an umbrella, even though the sky was clear. Five minutes later, the clouds broke and a torrential downpour began. Now, I never leave the house without checking what my shadow is wearing first.
The Toymaker’s Heart: He built a clockwork heart for a broken doll. It ticked so loudly that the neighborhood cats gathered at his window to listen. One night, the doll got up and walked out the door; the next morning, the toymaker found a small, wooden flower on his pillow.
The Silence Eater: He was hired to sit in noisy offices. He didn't speak; he just leaned back and swallowed the sound of phones ringing and keyboards clacking. By 5:00 PM, he was bloated with noise, and when he finally burped at home, it sounded like a thousand staplers.
The Midnight Garden: The flowers only bloomed when no one was looking. A photographer set up a motion-sensor camera to catch them. The photos didn't show flowers; they showed tiny, glowing people holding umbrellas, waiting for the moon to move so they could go home.
The Last Message: The spacecraft traveled for billions of miles to reach the edge of the universe. It found a giant, glowing sign. It didn't say "Welcome" or "The End." It simply said: "Thank you for participating in the simulation. Please exit to your left."
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