Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at oneadayuntilthedayidie.com. I’m your host, Laurence Simon.
This is Weekly Challenge, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was Vacation.
And we’ve got stories by a lot of people:
- Claire Voiant
- Tura Brezoianu
- Serendipidy Haven
- Cliff – Uncle Monster
- Norval Joe
- Planet Z
The next 100 word stories weekly challenge is on the topic of Storm.
And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post… this obligatory cat photo should help make the Internet go faster:
Vacations were impossible at Bill’s shoe repair shop. Summer drew hordes of tourists to the shop for forecasted sandal repairs, to lengthen belly-bag straps and to sew on extra lengths for leather belts. Most alterations were due to the copious fatty and fried foods served at the street market and pop-up bistros. The shop worked hard to put more pockets and extra clips on the tourists backpacks to carry the extra booty gleaned at local boutiques and curio shops. Ned had to hire an extra man to do the final cleaning and buffing, and holidays for all workers were postponed.
A holiday is another name for a missed spot when painting a bulkhead, hatch, or a hull. When I had to paint the ship on a shaky plank lashed to the side, I had a lot of holidays, since I was occupied with keeping myself from falling into the water between the boat and the pier. The Master Chief Boatswain Mate, Chief Oill, called them vacations. It was apparent to him that we were taking an unearned and undeserved vacation when we missed a spot with the brush. “Back over the side to do touch ups, and finish the job!”
When we got together on the couch, I took a vacation in her hair. I always took the opportunity to take a deep sniff of the perfume in her hair and comment on it. “Sally, you smell lovely! Your hair is so shiny.” She nuzzled my neck and nibbled my ear. I was getting aroused, and felt uneasy. She rested her head on my shoulder and kept looking up at me to test my reaction. She wanted more, and I could tell. Resolved, I pushed her away, got up, and called her to come to the porch for her Milkbone.
Having a great time on the Sahara Trek. 120 degrees in the shade, and there isn’t any! It’s true what they say, you really do get seasick on a camel, but that passed after a few days. Along with everything else, haha– the local food takes some getting used to. Sheep’s eyeballs really are a delicacy!
We’ll be entering Tuareg territory in a few days, and the guide’s warned us to keep our faces hidden and let him do the talking. They can be a bit touchy about Westerners in their country. Wish me luck– we’ll need it!
by Jeffrey Fischer
Beth had looked forward to her vacation for months. She was tired of folding and re-folding clothes at the Gap. She had scrimped and saved, and finally had enough for a week in Barbados.
After a day on the beach, burning herself and drinking too many overpriced trainer drinks, she took a bus into Bridgetown and wandered into a clothing store. The shirts were in a terrible state, so Beth spent the afternoon folding and placing them into neat piles.
She found this so soothing that she returned every day for the remainder of the week.
500 pound pigeon
I looked at the topic, my mind descends into a blury 80s haze. Go Go music filtered in, I rejected it because it really made me intense. Then there in my inbox a subject line yelled Pigeon Forge Vacations. An image of a 500 pound pigeon swinging hammer to glowing iron raced across my mind. The spam filter snagged the message so I Goggled Pigeon Forge found it was a town nestled in the Smoky Mountains. An isometric map population by bears in pants and point hats floated by. The main attraction of Pigeon Forge turned out to be Dollywood.
All I Ever Wanted
By Christopher Munroe
I haven’t had a vacation in four years.
I mean, I’ve been unemployed, and that’s technically time off, but it hardly counts, does it?
For a vacation, you need to be able to relax.
Similarly, I’ve taken a number of three day weekends, for weddings, comic expos and the like, but is three days really a vacation?
I would put it to you that it is not.
A vacation is a week, minimum, off. In which you vacate. This is the reason it’s called that, after all.
In that light:
Now I just need to figure out when…
So boss, I need to extend my vacation as sick leave. You see I met this woman and things did not go the way I would have wanted but I think she cared a little for me since she sent me flowers and this card saying
I have not time to hear about my faults in litany
just be happy you can survive with only one kitteny
Wallmark noir collection
We may want to invest in Wallmark since roommate’s card says
Sorry I ruined your trip to South Salito
Hope your arm heals quickly
sincerely yours Guido
Wallmark noir collection
I need a vacation!
All this writing is getting to me: my days are filled with words and plotlines, characters and scenarios… it’s driving me mad!
I need to get away from it all – somewhere I can switch off, relax and unwind. A quiet place in the countryside, with like-minded souls would be perfect; a secluded escape from everyday life to clear my thoughts and do something utterly different.
The question is where to go?
Ah… I have it! A vacation that ticks all the boxes – my bags are packed; I’m ready to leave.
Writer’s retreat… here I come!
Those memories she pretended to forget became real as she struggled on, yearning to be alone. A soft and tender feeling of solitude was all she longed for. She fought against insanity throughout the day. Yet at night, she hid in a dark corner of the garden where the humming of a gentle breeze healed her. The freezing air tasted of honey and her hands dug into the soft warm sand of her dreams, a seashell barely touching her fingertips. Broken in half forever, all she needed was to close her eyes and travel to distant places and starry skies.
“Shangri La” by Botgirl Questi
The resort’s name was Shangri La. That should have been a red flag. But we fell for the brochure’s tropical palms, designer rooms and organic cuisine. It seemed an ideal spot for a last romantic vacation before the birth of our first child.
The lobby was as luxurious as the picture. We paid the week in advance and walked to our room across the complex. Fuck! Threadbare carpet. Peeling wallpaper. Mildewed Shower. Sweltering Heat.
They wouldn’t refund so we called Channel 4 News. We watched our “Dreams Dashed” story the next day from our beachside room at the Holiday Inn.
Bill was too vital to his job to take a vacation, so he decided to use a clone. The clone would fill in at work for two weeks while Bill went to the Bahamas. The trip was wonderful, but when he got back, the police were at his house. It seems someone had raided the company pension fund, e-mailed threats to all the major clients, and run off with the boss’s wife. Bill was in deep trouble. No one would believe that it was a clone that was responsible. So, Bill used his one phone call to order another clone.
Vacation by RedGoddess
When the economy went downhill, a lot of people settled for “staycations.” With more Americans unemployed and losing their homes, spending money on vacations was not on the priority list. Lola can only afford to dream about a getaway, and while she gets the gist of “staycations” she realizes without vacations, hotels wouldn’t need workers like her. Lola foregoes any time off and markets rooms for profit to the working poor to stay at the hotel.
Her manager will still take her 2 weeks paid vacation like clockwork, while Lola will convince people to spend money they shouldn’t. Consumption remains the core of the American Dream.
“Well, this looks considerably better,” Flerdy said scanning the view around the ship with the external camera. “How many planets in this galaxy do you figure support life?”
Borle’s jaw dropped visably.
“I can’t believe you. We just hopped billions of light years from the very edge of the expanding universe, using an expiramental string drive, in minutes, and you ask me if I think there’s life in this galaxy?”
Flerdy cleared his throat patiently and said, “The Intergallactic Ichthiological Society didn’t pay you 8,000 Tetranian Gouramis to take me on vacation. They’ll want results for that kind of cash.”
Gravel rattled against the fenders of his Volks Wagon Microbus as the tires spun in the dirt shoulder of the rural highway. Winding out each gear before shifting he wished the old crate had more guts and less personality. His heart pounded in his throat and sweat beaded his forehead.
Dergill Dunderspawn, the Wiener Dog Fairy, made his deliveries and only had to evade any potential pursuit.
A red light flashed in his rear-view mirror, far back on the highway. As the police neared, Dergill eased off the road. When the car sped past, Dergill sighed, “I need a vacation.”
You know how lottery winners, sometimes with taxes and reckless spending, they end up broke? I have that beat. I won a vacation to the Banoi island resort. It was fun at first, drinking, girls In bikinis, Sam B singing his hit single Who Do You Voodoo, great fun. Then this girl was all over another girl, I thought the drinking was getting out of hand, until I saw the blood. Then I knew something was wrong. So instead of winning the lotto and going broke, I won a vacation to an island paradise, ground zero for the zombie apocalypse.
The Mind on Vacation
They said great blessings come from visiting the temple of a thousand goddesses. Golden faces and arms of mercy stood between me and the lowest hell of burning flesh. Fear arrived and peace left. I fled from the building gasping for air.
On the bridge I stood calm again, gazing at a grandfather carp – the ghost of another idea flashing in the water. It made me wonder what makes us need to read heaven or hell or some portentous national significance into ordinary things:
Old white koi you wear a spot of red.
The flag of Japan swims on the riverbed.
A vicar took his vacations on a small island seven miles off shore.
Just an abandoned lighthouse, seven days of supplies, a satchel full of books, and all the time to read them.
His neighbor owned a small boat, and he’d smuggle the vicar out to the island. Seven days later, he’d pick him up.
This year, boat sank soon after dropping off the vicar. The neighbor drowned.
The vicar ran out of supplies on the seventh day and waited… and waited… and waited…
He tried to swim back to shore.
He lasted only two miles.