Please enjoy the following samples.  As with any original work, share but acknowledge the author; copyright applies.


I wrote this micro for a good friend several years ago.  Take a look:

First Day

It took everything he had, everything within him, not to cry.  This tough man stood there staring down at her, holding back the tears, wishing he could hold back the years, but that was not to be.  He stood there, clutching her hand, wishing he could turn back the clock, praying for just a little more time, remembering the good days and the bad ones, the easy hours and the difficult ones.  Now, in just a short time, he would have to let her go, and he wondered, and he doubt whether he could really do so.

His mind, without permission, shot back in time more than five years and he recalled, relived, the first moment he saw her.  He had been preparing for her arrival for months, changing his life, his schedule, altering his ways, and the instant she arrived, the second she came into view, he felt his heart melt and his mind open to possibilities that he had never before considered.  In the next moment, his mind, tossing him to and fro, dropped him before her, and he saw her smile, her very first real smile, and then he heard her first words and, as if for the first time, he stumbled with her in her first steps, again.  The first time he scolded her came flooding back, and it saddened him, flattened him; the first time she uttered, “I love you” revived him, enlivened him.  Back and forth, his mind went, never settling for too long as it forced him to relive the past, and just when he felt comfortable with this bittersweet pain, his psyche flew to the future, to the dreaded first drive, the worrisome first date, graduation day and, though he fought it with all his heart and soul, he saw himself walking her down the aisle, giving her away one last time.

Overwhelmed by the emotion of the moment, he felt his knees buckle, and he went with it.  He dropped down to her side and he held his breath; he didn’t, no, he couldn’t say anything, for to part his lips would allow the release of a full fount of tears, and he feared he would not be able to contain it once unleashed.  No, he remained there, close to her, silent for those last moments until he heard that bell, that damn bell announcing the official opening of the first day of school, and for his little girl, the first day of Kindergarten.  For him, this strong and faithful and good dad, this was the first day of many days in which he would have to let her go, and this was also the first day of many days to come in which he let go and cried in front of her.  “I love you, Daddy,” she sang in joy and excitement as she hugged him tightly.  “I love you,” he whispered as he let her go.  “I love you, Meaghan…”

Copyright (c) 2011 Eric D. Banks

I finished this one just last night.  I wrote it for my friend Sherri based on her responses to the “build-a-story” note I posed on the Facebook page.  This story started out as one very ordinary thing but quickly morphed into something that is not really a micro-story but more of a snapshot of an eternal struggle.  It’s odd, but I enjoyed creating it.


Solara Obscura


Every day, I see her, every day, I seek her, and every day, I find her anew.

My heart expands, it searches her out, discovers her from afar, for no matter where she may be, she is the epicenter of our every thing.

Among but above the many, she is often lonesome and alone, though through her strength and by her grace, she never hides the longing, does not conceal the desire to know and to be deeply known.

By form external, ordinary, but by form internal, she is uncommon, purely captivating, wholly energizing and forever fascinating. Few can see her, the True her, the beauty of her, the gift within, for with eyes that fail to gaze long enough, deep enough, shallow minds willn’t apprehend that which cannot be seen and must only be felt.

But I see her; I watch her every day, my heart longing, thirsting to know her and to be known by her. But she never turns my way, never sees me, and will never know being known by me.


He is always near, but I see him not. I sense him here, but I feel him not. He perceives me too, yes, he sees me so, but can he know me? Can he know me as I burn and as I yearn to be known?

His presence mysterious, his vast reach is deep, he intrigues me, he frightens and delights me, enthralls and invites me. Shalln’t I go to him, shalln’t I touch him?

I cannot, I must not, and this I know: for him to acknowledge me, to look upon me, to intersect and transect my mind, to mend and transcend my spirit, to arrest and caress my soul, means the end of me, the ending of we.

And still, and yet, my one true and everlasting desire remains. Him.

From darkness I shall seek him, each day I will quest, and every day I should find him, there, right here only, in my heart of hearts.


Copyright © 2016 Eric D. Banks