Microfiction: The Last Game in the Universe

A tiny story about Time and Death, in less than 300 words.

Photo by NASA Hubble Space Telescope on Unsplash

This weekly newsletter features new horror fiction, critiques, writing tips and exercises, and more from Mata Haggis-Burridge. If you enjoy today’s story, please like, share, restack, comment, or subscribe to help my writing reach new readers. Thank you!

The Last Game in the Universe

Time watches Death from across the playing board. Around them, the galaxies whirl, sparking and dimming, colliding and separating. Their bodies span light years, so large they break perception.

A playing-piece on the board vanishes.

“That's a new move.” Time says.

Death swings its head closer to the vacant spot. As it peers into the void, another piece disappears, and Death jerks back.

The surrounding lights dim.

A third piece vanishes.

Time scratches its vast and pitted skull. The sound shatters nearby suns. “I’ve always wondered, who could ever win between us.” Another piece vanishes. “If all the pieces are gone, how will we know?”

Stars turn to dust and the galaxies still. The universe tunes down to a dim grey, its iridescence diminishes to the briefest shimmering of campfire embers. Death notices the unnerving smell of long-deserted mine shafts.

Time nods towards at the emptying board. “We should each hold a piece, so we can finish.” It stretches an appendage and encircles a pawn that is a limestone mountain etched by acid rain. Death embraces one of its pieces: a sphere of liquid stolen from the heart of the deepest ocean world, so intensely pressurised it would crush any Earthly cell.

Around them, the universe reaches a shade above purest darkness, but their chosen pieces remain.

In the gloom, Death opens its mouth. Time watches and awaits a sound: it will be the first word Death has ever spoken to Time.

Death inhales the night’s dust, then exhales, speaking the only word it knows: “Goodbye.”

Within their grasp, the pieces are gone, and so are the players.

The end

Thank you for reading! The idea for this story came from a writing exercise I saw in an awesome workshop this week, run by the inspiring Jericca Cleland (Director of Photography on Finding Nemo, among other works).

As mentioned at the top of this post, I’d love to reach new readers, so it’s a huge help if you like, share, restack, comment, or subscribe to this newsletter. Each of these things pops it up the algorithm so it’s more likely to reach other folks.

In exciting personal news for me, I just had my second full manuscript request for a horror novel I’m trying to find an agent to represent. It’s an amazing agency I’d love to work with, so I’m both incredibly hyped while trying to not build myself up too much in case they turn the book down. Eeeeee!

Have a wonderful week ahead, go be your awesome selves, and live with kindness in your hearts,

Mata xxx