On the fifth floor of a medical complex I sit in an office watching a tiny spider outside the window. It clings to the frame, buffeted by wind, but nevertheless spins an ornate web across a corner of the glass.
The stalwart desk is oak, as glossy as his slate-gray eyes above the crisp, white coat. His lips move slowly, pink and moist, mouthing salvation in a hushed voice, like a Baptist preacher tipping me backwards, headlong into dark water until I can’t breathe.
I push through, seeking light, sucking air, emerge. The first thing I see is the window. The spider lurches, lifted by a gust, sways on a single thread. Its spindly legs unfurl, then curl, before it drops.
In its third year, The March Micro Marathon will be, as usual, a prompt-a-day whirlwind for 24 days. You’ll exchange drafts of micro fiction, non-fiction, and prose poetry in small groups and gather for a series of online events (all recorded for participants unable to attend live). We’ll finish with 3 competitions, and participants who are not already in SmokeLong Fitness will be invited to workshop with SmokeLong Fitness until the end of April!