Thank you, Jillian Know for taking part in the ‘Write a story in less than one hundred words challenge’ with Lost in Thought.
She sits alone on the bench. She wears a white hat as shade against the sun. Her pink jacket keeps the chill off her thinning arms. Her walking stick lay beside her. She’s lost in her thoughts but tilts her head as a breeze rustles the leaves by her feet. The coolness feels good against her skin. Shading her eyes she looks towards me but doesn’t realise I’m watching her. Her face is beautiful and lined with age. A hint of sadness shows in her blue eyes.
She sees me and smiles.
We sit together. My mother. My friend.
Thank you, Brian Moate, for taking part in the ‘write a story in less than one hundred words challenge, when he takes himself back to being a young child, with his submission Reminiscence.
‘Come ‘ere ya little scamp’ yells me Nan ‘that’s got a reight mucky face, and there’s enough dirt be’ind yer ears to grow taters. Ah’ll ha’ ter gie thee a spit wash!’
But I had different ideas.
She tried, but I twisted and struggled, and screamed blue murder. No way was I getting a spit wash from her mucky hanky.
Try as she might she couldn’t get me. Eee, she wasn’t half mad!
‘Tha’ll cop it when yer Mum comes home,’ she bellows. She picked me up and put me in the dolly tub so I couldn’t climb out.
Well I don’t know about you but that one certainly gave me a laugh. Thank you, Brian.
Thank you, Allison Symes, for taking part in the above challenge with her story, Views. You can find out more about Allison’s writing by visiting her website.
An Agatha Christie character spotted a murder on a train. Ellen saw drab passengers.
She wanted inspiration for the novel she’d write. Nothing fed the muse here.
Ellen picked up her magazine and became engrossed in its first story about a commuter who was so far up herself she could come out the other way and still not realise she amused passengers.
The creation, Elle, travelled between Southampton and Portsmouth, as did Ellen.
Ellen looked up as an older woman coughed.
Mrs Drab held up her magazine. ‘My story is in here – the first one.’
Thank you to writer, Gerry Dudley, who has sent in her story, Unknown, to take part in the ‘write a story in less than one hundred words challenge.
She awoke, her tummy doing a nervous flip. Today’s the day, there’s no turning back.
Later nervously queuing, she wondered, were they scared too?
Her eyes locked, momentarily, with a tall chap. Hastily she looked away. The queue moved steadily forward. Her allocated seat 13F. That’s not a good omen.
Reaching her seat, she received the most generous smile from the handsome chap in the queue, by his side was her vacant seat.
She was glad she hadn’t chickened out, thinking ’13’ maybe lucky after all. Now her tummy felt excitement as they took off soaring into the unknown.
Thank you to author, Patricia Feinberg Stoner, for taking part in the ‘write a story in less than one hundred words challenge with her lovely story, Very Nice, Dear.
‘I never wanted you,’ she’d say.
Every Mother’s Day I bought her a red rose out of my slender pocket money.
‘Very nice, dear,’ she’d say.
I so wanted her approval. My first job, my headship, my professorship,
‘Very nice dear,’ she’d say.
Today the clearance men are emptying her house. ‘Is this important?’ says one, handing me a cardboard box.
Under the felted dust is my name in her precise writing. The rubber band snaps under my touch. I open the lid and stand looking at the slender corpses, their scarlet heads turned to black. Red roses.
Another weepy one. Have you noticed how these micro stories have promoted creepy or weepy themes?
You can find out more about Patricia’s writing by visiting her website.
Thank you to Author, Anita D Hunt, for taking part in the ‘write a story in less than one hundred words challenge’ with her lovely story, A Wish for Dad.
‘Hi Dad! Happy birthday!’ I said as I bounded up the drive, potted orchid held aloft like a grand prize. ‘I didn’t buy you a T shirt this year, I’m bored with buying you T shirts.’
Dad laughed as he took his present, ‘Don’t be daft, but this is lovely.’
‘Hi Dad. Happy birthday. I bought you flowers again, I hope you like them,’ I said as my tears mingled with the water I was pouring into the urn. ‘I wish I could buy you a T shirt again…’
I think you’ll agree that one was quite a weepy.
You can find out more about Anita’s writing by visiting her website.
Thank you to my latest writer, author, Lynette Creswell, who has taken up the challenge to write a story in less than one hundred words. Lynette has written a lovely nature story titled, The Butterfly. You can read her story below. If you’d like to know more about Lynette’s writing, visit here.
I hear the call of nature. The pond is still, the breeze gentle. I’ve grown to bursting point. I take a deep breath and expand my body. The soft silken thread rips in two. I break free. The heat from the sun is welcoming, its yellow rays flicker across my back. I shiver. The dampness around me evaporates. I lift my wings as they dance on the breeze. The stillness is broken. A shadow, a flash of brown and green. The leaf shudders and I turn to fly away. As I ascend, a long thin tongue flicks towards me.
Thank you to Colin Ward, author of To Die For, who has taken part in the story in less than one hundred words challenge. Colin writes thrillers and has made no exception in his ninety-nine word story, Leaving. To find out more about Colin’s writing you can visit his website
Everything was arranged. Tickets booked and bag packed. He’d triple-checked his passport was there. The chlorine smell lingered on his clothes.
‘Never leave your home dirty,’ his mother always said. Advice akin to why one should always wear clean pants.
‘Just in case the worst happened and…’
He silenced her voice.
Starting the car and looking over to the house as a matter of habit. He hummed a popular John Denver song about a jet plane.
He was about to put the car into reverse when he saw the thin, dark red line down the edge of his thumb.
Thank you Jules Hartnett for taking part in the ‘Write a story in less than one hundred words, challenge.’ Jules has sent in a great piece of writing – Remote. Enjoy.
She stares hard at David as he sits in silence; his phone in one hand, the remote in the other.
Across the room, Robson Green is babbling on about fish on the 54” HD TV. David never fished in his life. Was it always like this? She can’t remember when it wasn’t. She was his first love, before the whisky and the wide screen TV became his. Her lonely days and nights spent at the keyboard writing a different life, a different world.
She sighs and gently takes the phone from his cold, stiff hand and dials 999.
The responses are coming in for the challenge to write a story in less than one hundred words. This next story is written by writer and poet, Ann Fox. Thank you, Ann for sharing this great piece of fiction – A Moment in Time.
He left his family on the beach and went for a stroll. An old-fashioned ale house caught his eye and he enjoyed a refreshing pint of real ale served by a prim barmaid in a white apron. Half an hour later, on his way back, he looked for it again in vain. He asked a passer-by.
‘Pub?’ said the local, ‘there hasn’t been a pub here for over one hundred years.’
Well I’ve had my first taker in response to the challenge of writing a story in less than one hundred words. The story Lost is written by my little sister, Sandra Greenough. Sandra not only tries her hand at writing but she creates wonderful gifts using wood. Do take a look at her products over on Etsy.
And here’s her story:
She searched the cavernous depths of her handbag, depicting the chaos of her life; amidst never-ending half-finished to-do lists, stray hairs from the hairbrush, in need of a clean, the random number of people fleetingly met, important in the moment, but never to be contacted. It evaded her in her home that gnawed for attention; a petulant never satisfied child. It wasn’t at her work, the demands always more than she had left to give.
But it was in the forest where she found it.
Thank you for taking part in the challenge, Sandra.
Any other takers?
Have you ever had a go at writing a story in less than one hundred words? Here’s mine. Lost Love.
He enters the white walled room; a clinical smell camouflages the stale aroma from yesterday’s flowers. A jug of water stands on the wooden cabinet. Linked up to tubes and monitors, Olivia lies still. Bleeps from the machine provide life in the form of slow breaths.
Fifty years ago, they first met. A striking beauty, heart shaped face, smooth creamy complexion. Soft long lustrous auburn hair falls below her shoulders.
It’s time to flick the switch.
Time to say goodbye.
A high pitched sound peeps… a flat line shows.