8th #SatSunTails

Welcome to the eighth #SatSunTails micro fiction competition.

Be warned – the prompts aren’t easy, but that’s so you can write to the best of your ability.

If you haven’t had a go before at this writing challenge, then please don’t hesitate to try this weekend.


  • Post stories in the comments
  • Stories must be 150 words (margin of 5 words either side) AND based on the picture and written prompts.
  • If you title your entry this is not counted in your word count.
  • Only one entry allowed (so make it count)
  • End each entry with word count and name/twitter handle (if you forget these REPLY TO YOUR OWN COMMENT with them before judging closes)
  • You may enter until Monday 10am GMT (because I’m extra kind like that).

If you do not comply with these rules your story will be disqualified from judging. Good spelling and grammar will also help to make a better impression on judges – the odd typo, however, will be overlooked so please don’t worry about that.

For tips, read through the critiques from last week’s entries.


There will be ONE OVERALL WINNER and THREE RUNNERS UP. After that there will be THREE CRITIQUES of three stories that didn’t make it.

It would also be nice to those participating if you could promote your fellow competitors and those who win.

Today’s Prompt!

The following may be used as a sentence in your story OR provide a basis for it:-

“pleasure of reflection”

And here is your picture prompt:

& good luck!

| [Did you enjoy this post?] |
| [Why not leave a comment or check out my books?] |

1112 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

12 thoughts on “8th #SatSunTails”

  1. Title: Rag Dolls.
    Word count: 145 words
    Name: Hannah Marriott
    Tumblr: http://www.misshapenskies.tumblr.com
    Twitter: http://www.misshapenskies.twitter.com

    It is only now that I realised how long I have been bolted in here. I can hear a nervous scratch in my ears. Grabbing the soap, I work up a foaming lather until I can’t see the blood. Yet again, no matter how hard I scrub; my palms remain ruby raw and tainted.

    I gaze at the frosted glass and wonder over the pleasure of reflection. The girl looking back at me is traumatized by what she witnesses. Her palms are clasped over her mouth, sopping with agony.

    ‘It hurts…’

    Those whispers are lissom; oh I do adore her when she shrieks. Her body is a rag-doll; her garb is still in tatters.

    The girl behind me puts a hushed finger to her tongue, sweeping the sluice of crimson. That seductive glare pierces me every time.

    Then I caught the flicker of a knife.

  2. Purgatory
    By Lisa McCourt Hollar

    “Never alone. Always there, watching…waiting for me to fuck up. Well, I’ll show them. They aren’t going to get me.”

    “Are you sure she can’t see us?”

    “She can’t. She talks like that all the time. Multiple personalities is the diagnosis.”

    “I thought that was rare, I mean a true case of Dissociative Identity.”

    “See how she compulsively washes her hands? She believes she murdered herself.”

    Andrea stopped washing and looked around the bathroom. “I know you’re there…I can hear you.”

    “Shhh, I told you she could hear us!”

    “It’s just the voices in her head. Who knows what she hears?”

    “Quit watching me!” Andrea peered in the mirror, pleased at what she saw. “I see you watching, but my hands are clean!” Bringing her hands up, she showed them off in the mirror, before shattering the glass and silencing her demons. Blood running down her wrists, she experienced her death over and over again.

    Word Count: 155

  3. "You see that?" She hissed. "I'm watching your neck pulse."

    I ignored her, with great difficulty. She was like an itching wound, acknowledging her only makes it worse.

    "Please, don't let her hurt you. She's right there, do something."

    My eyes glanced upwards for a moment, towards the mirror. She was there, weeping. The two of them working together against my mind.
    Just ignore her, just ignore them
    "Maybe you're glad I'm gone?" She had caught my momentary stare. "Bastard. You failed to protect me, and now you won't even speak to me."

    I lashed out, and smashed my fist against the mirror, shattering it and leaving my knuckles bloodied. For a moment, there was quietness. It must have been days since I had last heard…nothing.

    But then, the whisper of glass being crushed underfoot set my senses on edge.
    "Now I've got ya.

  4. How shockingly appropriate that she died cleaning the bathroom sink. We still laugh just to mention it. At least until it needs cleaning again….

    Three triplets couldn’t be more different than these. Crystal, the observer, vapid and easily amused. Shonna the worker, the doer. So quick to sacrifice her time and ambition. And Brittney, so full of life. Sensual. In the moment.

    But alas, you know what they say. Two’s company, three’s a crowd. Frankly, the pleasure of having a single reflection tempted Brittney beyond denial. We never planned it out. No, we just knew what to do at the right time.

    I’ll never forget the impish look on Crystal’s face or the ease with which Brittney shushed me while holding the instrument of death.

    And Shonna? She didn’t consent in so many words. She must have known it was coming. She had to. So, we just assumed she’d make that last sacrifice.

    She did.

  5. Brigitte stood behind her sister, raising her finger to her lips to silence her boyfriend as she readied the knife. Her husband was in bed – his blood already pooling there and running down to the floor.

    She had known about her husband and her sister since before the wedding but had naively believed that all of that would stop after she and Hank were married. She was wrong, of course, so she had rationalised an affair of her own.

    After a while, one justification led to another and she formulated a new plan around her knowledge of the timing of her husband's trysts. She knew when to catch them together and how to make sure she would be able to take care of both of them

    Now, as even the image in the mirror seemed aware of her plans, she would deny Andrea the pleasure of reflection – and vice versa.

    150 Words


    Another day in the city. I sighed and shuffled to the sink with my toothbrush. Who would have thought the heart of the city could be so much harsher than the suburbs? Sure I had something of a sheltered upbringing, but it’s not like I was totally clueless.

    I just wasn’t ready for them.

    They’re here! Right behind me! I have to turn around! Oh, please, turn around!

    Shhh. Don’t worry. We’ll get them. We’ll get them all. Those bastards will pay for what they’ve done.

    The water’s frigid. I grimace in anticipation of getting in the shower. My life used to be perfect, but not anymore. From homecoming queen to full time waitress, it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

    I hate it here! Oh I wish they’d stop looking at me!

    Looking at you? We are you. That’s the pleasure of reflection. And when we kill them; that will be pleasure too.

    154 words

  7. She held the knife in her hand. Steady, still, it was a good thing that the occupant had their back to her. The knife caught beams of White light which fragmented upon contact, they sparkled reflecting singular beams of light to the mirror directly in front of her, in front of the occupant. That frail innocent looking girl who she'd never spoken to but knew had a voice as buttery and sweet as the body it was contained within. Sliding forwards, hearing the air rush past her ears as her breath quickened she barely made a sound placing a finger upon her lips, glancing upwards, catching her reflection on the mirror startled at the confusion it seemed to hold, that contorted image of herself yet wasn't. This is what they had meant by the contusion taking place within the brain, this is what they meant when they said she would never kill again

    Word count-155
    Name- Lilianna Vetter
    Tumblr- no-ordinary-stereotype@tumblr.com

  8. “Sister, it is for the best.” The whispered voice came from behind Monica.

    “Indeed, Sister, if we are to continue on, we must preserve.” The voice in front was thoughtful.

    “But I don’t know if I can do it anymore. It’s so hard, it hurts me to do this.”

    “Such are the ways of our kind. You understood this when you had been tasked with it.”

    Monica glanced up, staring at the woman in front of her, dressed demurely. Her gaze flickered to the image behind her, the more sultry of the three. Only dressed in a top that barely covered the essentials and wearing kohl around her eyes.

    “I’m afraid I will have to leave. It was the pleasure of relfection that was my undoing.”

    The image behind her gave a slow smile. “So be it, Sister.”

    A flash of metal and Monica felt the sting of rejection.

    149 words

Comments are closed.