This story is part of the longer blog post, Two Stories in Twelve Hours, where I detail the events of writing for the finale of the NYC Midnight 250-Word Microfiction Challenge writing contest (contest results are currently pending).
5,400+ people entered the competition back in October and I was one of only 125 writers moving on to the final round, so the pressure was on.
The way the contest works is: you receive a prompt at 11:59 PM containing a required genre, action, and word. You then have 24 hours to write a 250-word (maximum) short story incorporating all three.
Because this was the finale, we weren’t given a required genre this time. We were, however, still given a required action and a required word.
My prompt was:
GENRE: Open
ACTION: Collapsing
WORD: “Stain”
As I explain in The Time I Wrote Two Stories in 12 Hours, this was my first attempt at answering the prompt. I wrote it in about 30 minutes and quickly realized it wouldn’t work for a multiple of reasons detailed in the longer post—first and foremost being: it was too long. I wound up tossing it aside and starting over from scratch in order to write and turn in a new contest entry on time (“Good Kitty”).
Even though I wound up writing and submitting a new piece, I remain pretty fond of this story and the silly reality it hints at. I’m hoping to one day expand upon the universe it introduces and see how wild the ride can get.
Superheroes Anonymous
“Hello, and welcome to Supers Anonymous, where we help each other recover from the trauma of being Overpowered Beings.”
Anthony, an apartment building superintendent, shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Contrary to what he had believed upon seeing the sign, he would not find himself in the warm bosom of like-minded brethren, swapping horror stories about clogged toilets and nightmare tenants.
A man wearing comically-large oven mitts stands up. “Hi, I’m Mega Mitts, and this morning a tenant of mine clogged up her toilet like she was angry at it.”
Huh. Or maybe I will.
Mega Mitts smashes his oven mitts together and his face grows red as his voice rises in volume. “So I told her that I didn’t have the dexterity necessary to perform any plumbing miracles, and then she accused me of faking my superpower and just wearing large oven mitts that I ordered online.”
Mega Mitts’ voice reaches a crescendo, shaking the room and cracking a window. Multiple superheroes look sympathetic. One woman in a bright turquoise catsuit offers a tissue to a sniffling turquoise cat sitting beside her.
Mega Mitts takes a calming breath and continues. “So, I took off my protective oven mitts, and showed her my Fists of Destruction. She laughed, told me that I needed a manicure, and didn’t care when I said that it was hard to keep your nail beds healthy when your evil sentient fists start indiscriminately punching things whenever you take your mitts off.”
He rubs his head sheepishly. “Anyway, then my fists took over. I blinked, and my tenant had become a bloodstain on the floor.” A sniffle. Then a sob. “The worst part is…I didn’t even update my Superheroes’ Insurance, so I’ll have to pay for the entire lawsuit out of pocket!”
The man sitting to Anthony’s left screams in horror, and collapses into a puddle of quivering goo on the floor.
Mega Mitts nods vigorously. “And to top it all off…my mother in law is coming to visit this weekend!”
The room shakes and creaks as 19 superheroes and one apartment superintendent all grown in sympathetic unison.