“It’s hollow,” Jenny breathed. She pulled back, closed an eye, and tried again.
“What do you mean, ‘it’s hollow?’ That’s not possible. Moons can’t be hollow.” Dr. Martens pushed her out of the way and stared into the telescope’s eyepiece.
“What on Earth …” he muttered. “And here I thought we’d discovered a new moon.”
“This is better. Much better.”
“How?” He huffed.
“Because it’s not a new moon, Dr. Martens. It’s a wormhole.”

(I hope you enjoyed today’s story. I write these micro-stories from a prompt word in one minute. I can edit as much as I want after the one minute, but the bones have to be there before the alarm rings.

The bones of this came to me in a flash. But, I had trouble figuring out exactly what was to be hollow. At first, it was a tree, and the last line was, “Because it’s not a tree. It’s a wormhole.” Trouble is, I couldn’t get that last line out of my head and so had trouble getting around to it being a moon and Jenny and Dr. Martens gazing through a telescope as the main action of the short tale. It’s incredible to me how tough even these tiny stories can be when a plot point is sticky. Luckily, I can do it all again, tomorrow. I hope you’ll join me. 

I did this same, “micro-story a day” skill-building project in 2010. It revolutionized my writing and prompted the development of my “Flash Your Fiction” workshop for writers. To see the stories from that project, go here.”)