Stories from
December, 2012

The clockmaker forged a mechanical heart when his own withered. Arthritis now twists his fingers, and all the clocks begin to wind down.

Jennifer K. Oliver requires regular doses of speculative fiction.

All our stories are about people before the Bettering—people who hurt because they couldn’t help it. People who didn’t think hurt was fun.

R. Gatwood is concise.

They lived uneasily ever after. The evil stepmother had won the custody battle, and the dragon remained at large.

David Galef is the pen name of David Galef.

She had never heard her doll speak before, but, because it said such interesting things, she decided she didn’t mind.

Annie Hintsala is an on line writer who loves haiku and little stories, her son, teaching, singing badly, and cheesy movies.

We accepted themed submissions during the very first official #twitterfiction festival, and it resulted in our first daily publication schedule in Nanoism’s almost four year history. Here were our selections:

Wednesday: the classics, revisited

  • 516 by Sean Vivier
  • 517 by Mari Ness

Thursday: generations

  • 518 by Christopher Hivner

Friday: legen—wait for it—dary

  • 519 by Cheryl Chancellor

Saturday: the practical and mundane

  • 520 by Leann Orris

Sunday: an alternate present

  • 521 by Matan White

Now, back to our usual routine for promoting itty-bitty stories week in and week out.

She wanted to call him Judah, after her father, but he disagreed, saying he didn’t want his son to have the most popular name of the year.

Matan White doesn’t always write, but when she does, she writes nanofiction.

This story was a selection from the #twitterfiction festival

In her dad’s closet, she found flannel shirts, ties, boots, and an old baby photo of no one she knew. All were tossed out.

Leann Orris (@ODearMoriah) tweets fiction. She’s not sure what else Twitter is for.

This story was a selection from the #twitterfiction festival

Odin scowled. “What do you call this? The end of the world?”

Loki shrugged. “I dunno, looks like a good party to me.”

Cheryl Chancellor lives on the other side of the looking-glass.

This story was a selection from the #twitterfiction festival