#microfictions

2025

Régis Jauffret

À défaut de publier quoi que ce soit de neuf, pour ne pas tout à fait laisser mon blog sombrer dans mon propre oubli, le fil complet de mes contributions au #writever d'avril.

À contretemps, sinon à contrepied du thème, l’ensemble de mes contributions au #Writever d’avril. C’était la première fois que je tentais l’exercice (je réitère ce mois de juillet), plus riche que je ne m’y attendais pour moi (j’apprécie de longue date comme lectrice ces microfictions). J’avais déjà expérimenté (sur Twitter) la concision exigée par la brièveté, mais plus exclusivement dans le…

But our tiny hands couldn’t carry the ring

It was wrong, impossible, unnatural

That’s what they told us

With voices of ice, but words of fire

Those words sent my soul to hell

I fought to be free, bargaining, begging for forgiveness

I tore and cut my disgusting body apart and poured bleach in the wounds

But she, she simply stood there

As if she had nothing to be sorry for

She was solemn while I cursed myself, her, and everyone who had ever stood by us

And then she looked at me, confused, sad,

Telling me I hurt her.

I told her she hurt herself.

This is really angsty, anon 🥺

The bleach bit made me viscerally react omg!!!

It has the sharpest teeth

Melting at its touch, I spill onto the floor

Its soft, white hands mop me up

And bury the liquified pieces in a ceramic grave.

I swear it’s some sort of guardian angel.

anon I'll be your guardian angel if that's how they act 😏

Jokes aside, ngl this sounds cool as hell and the questioning of whether this is a guardian angel made me THINK. Your last lines are always killer, anon.

Comprised of tiny vertical and horizontal lines

None of them even reaching the edges of their confinement

It is not a proper barcode

At the bottom, the lines form one word

WEAK

Written in my own handwriting.

Where's the REST 👀

cuz rn I am