Microstory 7: True Story II

When I was very young, no older than five years old, I saw someone on television doing gymnastics. I would later learn that the trick they performed was a round-off back handspring, backflip. I turned to my mother and said, "I want to do that." She said, "okay." Sometime later, I started gymnastics. And I did it for eleven years. I also played baseball for several years. When I entered high school, my parents made me join the dive team. I ended up doing some swimming events as well. But I never liked it. There was too much competition. And I would prefer a world where everyone wins. Plus, I'm afraid of heights! But that's all another story. The point is that I was physically active for my entire life. It was second nature. I didn't realize that it was keeping me healthy. Then I went to college. All of it stopped. I spent so much time in a different city that I didn't even walk my dog very much. The meal plan allowed me to eat as much as I wanted, and only kept track of the number of meals. I was used to eating as much as I wanted and burning it off regularly. But not anymore. I gained a lot of weight. I won't get into specifics. It wasn't entirely noticeable to others if I wore the right clothes. Which meant it wasn't entirely noticeable to me. So, it just kept getting worse. I tried some diets. I tried becoming more active. But I am SOO busy. I spend every second of every day thinking about my stories, even when I'm asleep. Even when I'm doing something else. But I can only multitask so much and working out was, well...too much work.

The other day, I decided that I needed to push myself. I needed to force myself into a workout situation that I couldn't get out of. So, I started walking the 5.8 miles (42 blocks) from my house to my parents' house. At a certain point, there was no turning back. I could have called someone to pick me up. But that would have made me a failure. And, being Japanese, that's not really an option. My fingers swelled up, worsened by the fact that I didn't think to take off my ring. My feet blistered and suffered from poor circulation. But since my fingers were swollen, I couldn't loosen my shoelaces. But I made it. I had enough water. I had some good music. And I even made a few minor breakthroughs in my stories. There is no point, or really even an end, to this story. I'm telling it, though, because it keeps me accountable. And maybe if I know that others know I did this once, it will make it that much harder to excuse myself from doing something like it again. Thank you for your time. Microfiction resumes tomorrow on my official Tavis Highfill Page.

Microstory 6: True Story (so...NOT microfiction)

So, I have this sleeping disorder that causes me to sleepwalk, but it's really intense. I never think I'm in a different place, or anything. I always think that I've woken up. But the truth is that the dream I was just having bleeds into reality. I will spend a minute or two compelled to do whatever while gradually realizing what's going on. Last time, whatever I was dreaming about gave me the impression that there was something painful on my face. I don't know what it was, but it caused a burning sensation. I jumped out of bed, stumbled into the bathroom, and even turned on the light so that I could rub off the mysterious substance. Then I woke up and went back to bed.

Today, I drove a palette over from the warehouse to assembly. There is a gap between the truck and the dock, so we drop this dock plate to connect them. It's super heavy and cumbersome. Once I was done unloading, I lifted the dock plate by myself and ended up stepping right through that gap. I lost control of the plate and ended up smashing my face into it as I fell. But not just anywhere on my face. No. It was the exact same spot that I was trying to get the mysterious acid off of while I was sleepwalking the night before. Who says I can't tell the future?

Microstory 5: Siftens Landing (Part I)

The Landers and the Siftens lived in a hidden cul-de-sac that backed up to a dense forest. The suburb was growing fast, and their corner of it was its best kept secret. And they loved it that way. Then someone moved in. The third house had been vacant since the beginning. Neither family had even bothered trying to figure out who had built it in the first place. No need to rock the boat. But now it didn't matter. They were doomed. The de facto leader of the two families, Mama Siften, formed a plan to be rid of their problem. She went off to the store and bought a shovel, some rope, a few bags of sawdust, and a gallon of distilled water. On her way back, the new neighbor stopped her for a chat. He probably had a name but who was even paying attention? It was best to keep a distance and not get at all attached. While the stranger was talking, Mama Siften panicked. She ended up inviting them all to dinner. That was going to make this much more complicated. What's-his-toes smiled and rushed off to tell his wife. Mama Siften pulled into her garage and had her kids unload the supplies while she talked things over with her husband. They were going to have to change strategies...

Click here for the next installment...

Microstory 4: The Scorpion and the Fox

One day, a turtle, a frog, and a fox are sitting at the bank of a river. A scorpion comes along and asks if one of them would carry him across the river. The turtle is hesitant. "How do I know you won't sting me?" the turtle asks. "Because then we would both drown," answers the scorpion. "I'm sorry. I can't risk that," replies the turtle. The scorpion turns to the frog who hops away without a word. "I can carry you," says the fox. The fox carries the scorpion across the river and then swims back. A snake slithers up and tells the scorpion that he probably would not have been able to keep himself from biting the fox by the time they reached the bank. "Why didn't you sting him once you were safely across?" the snake asks. "Isn't that what scorpions do?" "I am not bound by my nature," the scorpion replies. "I make my own choices." Back on the first side, the turtle asks why the fox agreed to do that when it was so dangerous. "Animals like that believe it is best to perish if it means the death of an enemy," the turtle says. "I chose to give him the benefit of the doubt," the fox answers. "Not because it was in his best interests anyway, but because not helping an enemy would reflect poorly on me more than it would on him."

Microstory 3: The Wall

Malcolm peeked over the wall to get a look at what he wanted. Then he quickly ducked down. Did she see him? No. But she likely knew he was there, and was probably about to flip out about it. There wasn't much time. He had to do this now, or he'd be caught. As he slid along the brick, his back ran up against one that was jutting out. He squeezed his mouth with his hand to prevent a howl. That would bring them over too soon. Malcolm crouched and crawled behind a bush. They were nearly there. He had to time it perfectly. If they were too far away, they would have time to put up a defense. Too close, and they take him out before he's over. He rocketed himself into the air and pulled his stomach across the ledge. She went after him, screaming at the top of her lungs. He looked back and could see them right in that sweet spot, weapons raised. He lowered his legs down to her and braced for the pain. She clamped down hard. Blood trickled down and tickled his toes. The men, not quite realizing what was happening, ran over and grabbed him angrily by the shoulders to pull him back to the other side. But he wasn't alone. Her jaws were still wrapped around his ankle. Recognizing the smell of her captors, the monster released Malcolm's leg and had herself a nice meal. By the time she was done, she was full. So, she ignored Malcolm and ran off to find her monster babies.

Microstory 2: Umm......What?

And so it was not that the man and his pet daffodil made the tedious and brief journey across the barren ocean sky. Burning snow rose from the ground and disappeared into the forest of plastic rubber bands. A miniature giant roared quietly and asked for spare change. The man took the change from the giant and apologized for its gratitude. The daffodil lifted her arms and bowed. The man smiled darkly before throwing the daffodil into a nearby meteor shower and forgetting about it nostalgically. The overshadow of an inferior man blinded the man as he slipped into something less comfortable. The end was far behind. The man whose name was Bob opened the window and jumped in to say goodbye to Bob whose name was The Man. And I lifted my eyes to see the valley below. And there I could hear the silent faces of the man; the man, Bob; Bob the Man; the miniature giant; the inferior man; the daffodil; and the temporary mouse. And then she unlocked the doors of the bowling alley on the sixth day of school. And someone said, "um...what?" I think it was you.

Microstory 1: Then You

The other day, you struggled out of the twisted metal that was once your car. Then you soared through the air, and watched as cans of beer slammed into the windshield. Then you fell asleep at the wheel. Then you ran two red lights and nearly hit a pedestrian. Then you grazed a mailbox, twisting the post so that it was going in the wrong direction. Then you crawled into your car, from the passenger side. Then you spilled your coffee in the doorway. Then you put your pants on backwards and your shirt on inside out. Then you tried desperately to rub the cracks out of your phone screen. Then you threw your phone across the room to stop the alarm. Then you woke up at dawn. Then you went to bed a couple hours before dawn. Then you got home. Then you rubbed your eyes and stepped out of the car. Then you remembered what you needed and made a stop at the liquor store. Then you left work after a grueling double shift. Then your coworker suggested that you buy the boss a case of beer to butter him up so he'll give you that promotion. Then you took on some extra work. Then you didn't go through with the plan. Then you planned on quitting your job. Then you got to work. Then you got a couple hours of sleep after another grueling double shift.