He could make wine glasses sing with a fingertip and a bit of spit, the tone growing more melancholy as the drink went down.
He built tiny, perfect boats, using balsa and thread, slipping them magically into clear glass bottles.
Here’s the last ship-in-a-bottle he made. Inside it sits a minuscule old man, and a boy, and a bottle. And within that, is a speck of a ship.
This is my inheritance.
My face, my black suit, reflect in the glass, and I wish myself small enough to slide inside, board the ship and sail to wherever my grandpa is.
This story won the People’s Prize in the January 2022 Monthly Micro Competition.
About the author: Kathryn is a writer, reader, and mentor of other writers. She has an MA in Writing for Young People from Bath Spa University. Her stories have won and been placed in a number of competitions, and published in anthologies, writing magazines, and online.