Waferboard
@waferboard.bsky.social
It's the same stuff, over and over.
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Waferboard
@waferboard.bsky.social
· Oct 20
The Hare of Herz in Autumngrue
The Hare of Herz in Autumngrue A quiet tale of flibberblatts and folded things The Hare of Herz in Mornengrau Sips his cup of Koffeefein...
waferiction.blogspot.com
The Hare of Herz in Autumngrue
A quiet tale of flibberblatts and folded things
waferiction.blogspot.com/2025/10/the-...
#nonsensepoetry
A quiet tale of flibberblatts and folded things
waferiction.blogspot.com/2025/10/the-...
#nonsensepoetry
"At the heart of every story," she thought, "is change." She tapped her pen against the blank page and watched an ice cube melt in her empty glass. She sighed. The only change in her life was her own life quietly melting away, unseen.
#Microfiction #vss #aiart
#Microfiction #vss #aiart
November 30, 2025 at 1:12 AM
"At the heart of every story," she thought, "is change." She tapped her pen against the blank page and watched an ice cube melt in her empty glass. She sighed. The only change in her life was her own life quietly melting away, unseen.
#Microfiction #vss #aiart
#Microfiction #vss #aiart
November 29, 2025 at 2:54 PM
The front door clicked, closing off the morning rush of dishes and lost keys. Silence. He found his mug. The heat and quiet promise of the morning was gone, leaving tepid black water. This wasn't coffee, he thought. It was a liquid apology for a race to nowhere.
#vss #microfiction #aiart #coffee
#vss #microfiction #aiart #coffee
November 28, 2025 at 10:47 PM
The front door clicked, closing off the morning rush of dishes and lost keys. Silence. He found his mug. The heat and quiet promise of the morning was gone, leaving tepid black water. This wasn't coffee, he thought. It was a liquid apology for a race to nowhere.
#vss #microfiction #aiart #coffee
#vss #microfiction #aiart #coffee
Last one!
“Was this the face that launched a thousand ships?” Menelaus took Helen's cold hands. She met his gaze, regal, but changed. He’d burnt the world to get to this point. He hesitated, then let go, shouting orders to escort her to the black ships.
#Microfiction #aiart #vss
“Was this the face that launched a thousand ships?” Menelaus took Helen's cold hands. She met his gaze, regal, but changed. He’d burnt the world to get to this point. He hesitated, then let go, shouting orders to escort her to the black ships.
#Microfiction #aiart #vss
November 26, 2025 at 5:06 PM
Last one!
“Was this the face that launched a thousand ships?” Menelaus took Helen's cold hands. She met his gaze, regal, but changed. He’d burnt the world to get to this point. He hesitated, then let go, shouting orders to escort her to the black ships.
#Microfiction #aiart #vss
“Was this the face that launched a thousand ships?” Menelaus took Helen's cold hands. She met his gaze, regal, but changed. He’d burnt the world to get to this point. He hesitated, then let go, shouting orders to escort her to the black ships.
#Microfiction #aiart #vss
"Was this the face that launched a thousand ships?" Odysseus stayed in the shadows as Helen passed. He’d spied, lied, and killed for this. Now she was with Menelaus, the city in ruins. He pulled his cloak tight. Menelaus could keep the face. He wanted home.
#Microfiction #aiart #vss
#Microfiction #aiart #vss
November 26, 2025 at 3:36 PM
"Was this the face that launched a thousand ships?" Odysseus stayed in the shadows as Helen passed. He’d spied, lied, and killed for this. Now she was with Menelaus, the city in ruins. He pulled his cloak tight. Menelaus could keep the face. He wanted home.
#Microfiction #aiart #vss
#Microfiction #aiart #vss
"Was this the face that launched a thousand ships?" Nestor leaned on his staff as Helen passed, her beauty still intact. He winced, his bad knee hurt. Ten years of blood and here she was, untouched. "Everything is broken," he thought. "Except the one thing that broke us."
#Microfiction #aiart #vss
#Microfiction #aiart #vss
November 23, 2025 at 2:52 PM
"Was this the face that launched a thousand ships?" Nestor leaned on his staff as Helen passed, her beauty still intact. He winced, his bad knee hurt. Ten years of blood and here she was, untouched. "Everything is broken," he thought. "Except the one thing that broke us."
#Microfiction #aiart #vss
#Microfiction #aiart #vss
"Was this the face that launched a thousand ships?" Diomedes found Helen in a corridor. He ordered guards to get her to the black ships, then turned away, clenching his fists until the knuckles turned white. "Ten years of blood," he thought, "but she is still worth it."
#Microfiction #aiart #vss
#Microfiction #aiart #vss
November 21, 2025 at 11:41 PM
"Was this the face that launched a thousand ships?" Diomedes found Helen in a corridor. He ordered guards to get her to the black ships, then turned away, clenching his fists until the knuckles turned white. "Ten years of blood," he thought, "but she is still worth it."
#Microfiction #aiart #vss
#Microfiction #aiart #vss
Reposted by Waferboard
If there's no #vssdaily word—an inspirational loss most keenly felt—I still feel inspired to write a #vss story all the same. Not #stories that are all the same, mind you, but stories with #words that might inspire others to #write stories, or #poems, or todo lists written in cursive.
#vssdaley
#vssdaley
November 21, 2025 at 9:28 PM
When I get up the dark still clings,
my skull a muffled bell, the acheing years.
The dog waits for food, tail ticking time.
I count the days I might still rise.
Yet, rise I do! Groaning, ringing, mortal,
because the kettle needs filling,
and the world won’t wait.
#poetry #badpoetry #aiart
my skull a muffled bell, the acheing years.
The dog waits for food, tail ticking time.
I count the days I might still rise.
Yet, rise I do! Groaning, ringing, mortal,
because the kettle needs filling,
and the world won’t wait.
#poetry #badpoetry #aiart
November 21, 2025 at 3:57 PM
When I get up the dark still clings,
my skull a muffled bell, the acheing years.
The dog waits for food, tail ticking time.
I count the days I might still rise.
Yet, rise I do! Groaning, ringing, mortal,
because the kettle needs filling,
and the world won’t wait.
#poetry #badpoetry #aiart
my skull a muffled bell, the acheing years.
The dog waits for food, tail ticking time.
I count the days I might still rise.
Yet, rise I do! Groaning, ringing, mortal,
because the kettle needs filling,
and the world won’t wait.
#poetry #badpoetry #aiart
A Grimm tale: Gretel reached for her pocket. Nothing on the linen dress from her new stepmother. No place for rocks or toys. Her real mother’s dress was gone. She walked with Daddy and Hansel into the woods, smiling, while her thumb searched for what was lost.
#Microfiction #aiart #vss
#Microfiction #aiart #vss
November 20, 2025 at 3:28 PM
A Grimm tale: Gretel reached for her pocket. Nothing on the linen dress from her new stepmother. No place for rocks or toys. Her real mother’s dress was gone. She walked with Daddy and Hansel into the woods, smiling, while her thumb searched for what was lost.
#Microfiction #aiart #vss
#Microfiction #aiart #vss
Aesop leaned in: “Inviting Stork had been Fox's therapist’s idea: ‘Make new friends!’ They sat at Fox’s, with rabbit stew. Stork leaned in, but the dishes were too shallow for her long, narrow beak. She politely excused herself. A chill crept in. Was the stew too bland?”
#Microfiction #aiart #vss
#Microfiction #aiart #vss
November 17, 2025 at 9:12 PM
Aesop leaned in: “Inviting Stork had been Fox's therapist’s idea: ‘Make new friends!’ They sat at Fox’s, with rabbit stew. Stork leaned in, but the dishes were too shallow for her long, narrow beak. She politely excused herself. A chill crept in. Was the stew too bland?”
#Microfiction #aiart #vss
#Microfiction #aiart #vss
Edward the bear was dragged down the stairs, upside-down, clutching his old honey pot. His head hitting the carpet was a drum leading to an absurd future he couldn't control. "Some days, the hardest thing isn't holding onto honey, but hope," he thought.
#Microfiction #aiart #vss #stoicism
#Microfiction #aiart #vss #stoicism
November 16, 2025 at 2:02 PM
Edward the bear was dragged down the stairs, upside-down, clutching his old honey pot. His head hitting the carpet was a drum leading to an absurd future he couldn't control. "Some days, the hardest thing isn't holding onto honey, but hope," he thought.
#Microfiction #aiart #vss #stoicism
#Microfiction #aiart #vss #stoicism
A Grimm Tale: From the cupboard, Gretel watched the old woman feed Hansel. The gingerbread house seemed a dream when, lost, they stumbled on it. Gretel rattled the cookie door. Her cupboard wasn’t the only cage. They were prisoners of the desire for excess.
#Microfiction #aiart #vss #stoicism
#Microfiction #aiart #vss #stoicism
November 14, 2025 at 3:29 PM
A Grimm Tale: From the cupboard, Gretel watched the old woman feed Hansel. The gingerbread house seemed a dream when, lost, they stumbled on it. Gretel rattled the cookie door. Her cupboard wasn’t the only cage. They were prisoners of the desire for excess.
#Microfiction #aiart #vss #stoicism
#Microfiction #aiart #vss #stoicism
Aesop leaned in: “The fox tapped the vine’s stem. Sometimes, that was enough to bring down a cascade of grapes. Today, they swayed just out of reach, their skins straining to hold their juice. He sniffed. Sweet but with a sour edge, like laughter behind his back.”
#Microfiction #aiart #vss
#Microfiction #aiart #vss
November 13, 2025 at 5:20 PM
Aesop leaned in: “The fox tapped the vine’s stem. Sometimes, that was enough to bring down a cascade of grapes. Today, they swayed just out of reach, their skins straining to hold their juice. He sniffed. Sweet but with a sour edge, like laughter behind his back.”
#Microfiction #aiart #vss
#Microfiction #aiart #vss
Circle of life and all that. Dead salmon in Williams Creek, Langley, British Columbia. #metrovancouver #salmon #photography
November 11, 2025 at 10:04 PM
Circle of life and all that. Dead salmon in Williams Creek, Langley, British Columbia. #metrovancouver #salmon #photography
Zarathustra stood on the steps: "When I came from the dust of books, yes, romantic fiction, I came into the crowds, blinking and cringing. The camel must become the lion! Oh, you small people, you name your mediocrity Virtue. Look! Break the tablets! Be hard! Laugh!"
#Microfiction #aiart #vss
#Microfiction #aiart #vss
November 11, 2025 at 4:08 PM
Zarathustra stood on the steps: "When I came from the dust of books, yes, romantic fiction, I came into the crowds, blinking and cringing. The camel must become the lion! Oh, you small people, you name your mediocrity Virtue. Look! Break the tablets! Be hard! Laugh!"
#Microfiction #aiart #vss
#Microfiction #aiart #vss
Aesop leaned in: The Hare woke, startled. Unease gripped him. The race! He shot up. He had planned to saunter across the finish line, nonchalant, yawning, but dread was curdling his stomach. Was that the Tortoise ahead? He had overslept. Shame burned his ears.
#Microfiction #aiart #vss #promptshare
#Microfiction #aiart #vss #promptshare
November 10, 2025 at 4:01 PM
Aesop leaned in: The Hare woke, startled. Unease gripped him. The race! He shot up. He had planned to saunter across the finish line, nonchalant, yawning, but dread was curdling his stomach. Was that the Tortoise ahead? He had overslept. Shame burned his ears.
#Microfiction #aiart #vss #promptshare
#Microfiction #aiart #vss #promptshare
The wind and rain drop the last gold leaves.
Should I sing? Am I Whitman?
No, the world is indifferent and unrelenting.
The bare branches show the truth:
another year gone.
I have one less season left to see.
#poetry #PoetryWriting #Autumn
Should I sing? Am I Whitman?
No, the world is indifferent and unrelenting.
The bare branches show the truth:
another year gone.
I have one less season left to see.
#poetry #PoetryWriting #Autumn
November 9, 2025 at 6:35 PM
The wind and rain drop the last gold leaves.
Should I sing? Am I Whitman?
No, the world is indifferent and unrelenting.
The bare branches show the truth:
another year gone.
I have one less season left to see.
#poetry #PoetryWriting #Autumn
Should I sing? Am I Whitman?
No, the world is indifferent and unrelenting.
The bare branches show the truth:
another year gone.
I have one less season left to see.
#poetry #PoetryWriting #Autumn
"Was this the face that launched a thousand ships?" Ajax the Lesser stepped on a corpse, and grinned as Helen passed by with her guards. He had leapt from the Wooden Horse and cut through anyone in his way. Cassandra might be in the temple, but he'd take what he wanted.
#Microfiction #aiart #vss
#Microfiction #aiart #vss
November 9, 2025 at 6:16 PM
"Was this the face that launched a thousand ships?" Ajax the Lesser stepped on a corpse, and grinned as Helen passed by with her guards. He had leapt from the Wooden Horse and cut through anyone in his way. Cassandra might be in the temple, but he'd take what he wanted.
#Microfiction #aiart #vss
#Microfiction #aiart #vss
"Was this the face that launched a thousand ships?" Neoptolemus wiped blood from his blade and watched Helen. He felt a stirring beneath the rage that had killed Priam and flung a child from the walls. He felt Achilles' absence and knew that wound would never close.
#Microfiction #aiart #vss
#Microfiction #aiart #vss
November 8, 2025 at 2:57 PM
"Was this the face that launched a thousand ships?" Neoptolemus wiped blood from his blade and watched Helen. He felt a stirring beneath the rage that had killed Priam and flung a child from the walls. He felt Achilles' absence and knew that wound would never close.
#Microfiction #aiart #vss
#Microfiction #aiart #vss
He put down the teacup, carefully, wary of the tremors in his hand. The photo seemed blurred, like his memories. What was the dog's name? "Dog." Its name was "Dog." Who will recall this moment? He sighed. Everything passes. Whatever happened to Dog?
#Microfiction #photo #blackandwhite #vss
#Microfiction #photo #blackandwhite #vss
November 7, 2025 at 3:31 PM
He put down the teacup, carefully, wary of the tremors in his hand. The photo seemed blurred, like his memories. What was the dog's name? "Dog." Its name was "Dog." Who will recall this moment? He sighed. Everything passes. Whatever happened to Dog?
#Microfiction #photo #blackandwhite #vss
#Microfiction #photo #blackandwhite #vss
The contest: Tortoise selected a sunny patch and planted carefully. Then he sat down to rest and relax a bit. The watering can sat quietly by the fence, untouched. “Tomorrow,” he murmured, sipping a lemonade, “or the day after.”
#microfiction #aiart #vss
#microfiction #aiart #vss
November 6, 2025 at 1:38 PM
The contest: Tortoise selected a sunny patch and planted carefully. Then he sat down to rest and relax a bit. The watering can sat quietly by the fence, untouched. “Tomorrow,” he murmured, sipping a lemonade, “or the day after.”
#microfiction #aiart #vss
#microfiction #aiart #vss
The contest: Toad consulted his almanac, but because he couldn’t read he held it upside down. He planted with gusto, sowing seeds across frostbitten furrows. “Winter roots are the sturdiest,” he said, and pulled his scarf closer.
#microfiction #aiart #vss
#microfiction #aiart #vss
November 6, 2025 at 1:37 PM
The contest: Toad consulted his almanac, but because he couldn’t read he held it upside down. He planted with gusto, sowing seeds across frostbitten furrows. “Winter roots are the sturdiest,” he said, and pulled his scarf closer.
#microfiction #aiart #vss
#microfiction #aiart #vss
The contest: Hare rose early, eager to get going. He scattered fertilizer like confetti: a bit here, a bit there, a generous heap everywhere. By noon, the soil steamed and bubbled like soup. “Growth,” said Hare, “needs to be encouraged.”
#microfiction #aiart #vss
#microfiction #aiart #vss
November 6, 2025 at 4:52 AM
The contest: Hare rose early, eager to get going. He scattered fertilizer like confetti: a bit here, a bit there, a generous heap everywhere. By noon, the soil steamed and bubbled like soup. “Growth,” said Hare, “needs to be encouraged.”
#microfiction #aiart #vss
#microfiction #aiart #vss
The contest: The hare proposed it over coffee. “To see who grows the largest vegetable,” he said and twitched his whiskers. Toad croaked, Tortoise blinked. Three friends, one field, and a very fine idea.
#Microfiction #aiart #vss
#Microfiction #aiart #vss
November 5, 2025 at 1:04 PM
The contest: The hare proposed it over coffee. “To see who grows the largest vegetable,” he said and twitched his whiskers. Toad croaked, Tortoise blinked. Three friends, one field, and a very fine idea.
#Microfiction #aiart #vss
#Microfiction #aiart #vss