A motorcycle backfires; I fire back: An elemental disintegration spell lobbed at the boisterous bike’s transmission. The rider curses, shakes his fist.
Movement. Keep pushing...
A truck’s horn howls; I invoke a transformation charm. Metal softens, swells into a truck-shaped helium filled balloon, floats noiselessly away.
Slight wobble, eyelid twitch. Almost home…
A leaf blower shrills; I evaporate it with a dissipation incantation.
Nothing. Still asleep. Keep…
A pedestrian passes me, looks into the stroller, says, “What a cute baby! Ooh, is he sleeping?”
My baby wakes up, wails.
I grab the stranger by the shoulders.
“Well… he freaking was!”
HUNDREDS is a microfiction writing project: 100 short stories and poems of various genres, all 100 words each.
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