Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at oneadayuntilthedayidie.com.
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: UNDERGROUND
We’ve got stories by:
- John Musico
- Tura Brezoianu
- Rick Thomas
- Anima Zabaleta
- Norval Joe
- Planet Z
The next 100 word stories weekly challenge is on the topic of VALUE. Scroll up and click on Weekly Challenge to learn how to join us!
by John Musico
Evolution forces burdened species to find an unused niche with no competition when they get elbowed out by existing competitors.
The density of animals on earth had become critically overpopulated.
The number of square miles of land on our planet; pales in comparison to the many layers of the land below the surface.
Consequently, many species moved underground.
Random mutations in their offspring; either disfavored their survival, or favored it.
Any species with deformities that favored digging skills, or smelling food through miles of tunnels, and the like: survived.
Their offspring were as their evolved adapted parents; and they flourished, wildly….
On Zombie Preparedness
By Christopher Munroe
I’ve always been old-school, that way.
Even before the dead rose from their graves and started shambling across the countryside looking to sate their hunger for flesh, I was at the cemetery every weekend, looking over the tombs.
A bunch of us went, we’d drink wine, write poetry, and discuss what we’d do in the event of actual zombie apocalypse.
People mocked us, called us freaks, but once the graves started opening up again we knew we were the only ones who were ready.
I guess you could say: I’ve been into zombies since back when they were still underground…
by Jeffrey Fischer
I find my usual seat, start a podcast, and wait for the ride to be over. The subway – “the Underground,” as those descriptive British call it, though their system finds its way above ground – is a reasonably comfortable and efficient way of getting to work. Plus, there’s the freak show.
The girl across the way, furtively sipping her Frappucino next to the “no eating or drinking” sign; the guy toying with his cigarette, waiting impatiently to leave the car so he can light up; the woman on the phone, arguing with her boyfriend for all of us to hear; and the man in his underwear, carefully donning his suit and tie as he nears his station – it’s a wonderful cross-section of the weirdos in society, and it makes me want to drive myself to work.
by Jeffrey Fischer
Karen met Frank in a noisy bar that played far too much bro country for her tastes. It was a strange place to find a nice guy, but the two of them hit it off right away. Part of Karen’s attraction was that Frank described himself as “an underground artist.” She had visions of being taken to boutique galleries, and smoky (but trendy) clubs. Perhaps he was a graffiti artist, plying his trade on walls in sketchy parts of town – he might even be the next Banksy! she mused.
They exchanged numbers and promised another date. But when Karen went online to look up Frank, she found he was a grave-digger. She debated switching bars and avoiding him, but summoned the courage to confront him about his lie. “It’s no lie, darlin’,” he said. “My graves are the tidiest around. I’m an artist, and I work underground.”
#1 – George’s Story – Part 86: Data
George didn’t really know what he’d expected – he’d hoped the computer might provide a portal to some underground organisation with clandestine goals, but he found himself presented with a desktop little different to those seen in millions of offices across the world.
Digging a little deeper provided more interesting results – a set of numbered folders corresponding to the candidates he’d found on the desk, containing datestamped image and video files.
George was astonished to find, in his folder, a comprehensive record of everything that had occurred since waking up in hospital… George’s flesh crawled as he worked through the files.
#2 – Tube
The London Underground has a few surprises for those in the know. Beneath the streets of the capitol, far above, lie stories of ghosts and tales of long abandoned stations and tunnels… If you know where to look you can even see the forgotten platforms as you rattle by.
But look even more closely and you may catch a disconcerting glimpse of the Underground’s most disturbing secret.
The pallid faces and insubstantial forms of lost commuters, grasping their briefcases and bags with skeletal fingers, waiting silently and patiently on those dark, lonely platforms…
Waiting for trains that will never arrive.
Jimmy lived in the underground. The trains stopped running in 2197, by the turn of the century it was the only concentration of electric power left. No one had a clue why they called the place Fruitdale, but it was better by far than Union City run by thugs, or Fremont Station run by religious zealots. “I guess, if you live at the end of the line, the end is always end,” quipped Jimmy. The boy had hacked the intercom system to play 100 word stories 24/7. No one paid much attention to the context. They listen for the sound of hope.
A Well Defined Relationship Part 82
“Gr-K” yelled Mother swung her rifle directly at the Rev’s head, dropped and nailed an incoming Forlite Bird. “Well played Mr. Parsons,” said the Rev picking blue bird parts off his shoulder. “Haven’t heard that word in ages. You were with the underground weren’t you?”
“Much to Lt. Parsons’s dismay.”
“Oh he must have suffered greatly on the duel crosses of love and duty. Gladly I think the breach between is why we are speaking on this noble Sunday afternoon.”
“He got the last of the underground off Beta Bovine.”
“You went agreeably?”
“I was drugged.”
God left today.
It hit the Earth ten thousand years ago, sinking deep underground, alive but too damaged to escape. So it projected its mind to raise our primitive cultures towards developing science and technology.
Judaism, Greek philosophy, Jesus, Mohammed: all signs of its memetic engineering. At last, it found the triggers to set us on the path of science. A few years ago it made us find it and set us to work.
And now it’s gone, ignoring us like discarded tools.
As if waking from dreams, we look at each other and wonder, what do we do now?
This deep underground, it is utterly dark, so dark that it’s impossible to see your hand in front of your face. So, when the lamp failed, all I could do was stay put and wait for the rescue party.
Finally, after long hours in the pitch darkness, the welcome glow of light appeared… But something was wrong – this was not the glow of electric torches, but the flicker of flames, and the sounds that accompanied them were not the reassuring shouts of my rescuers.
When I saw my fate, my only wish was for the darkness to return.
Verily I say unto thee, in a time that is soon to come, the world shall be
divided into two peoples, each the opposite extreme of the other.
The sky people shall shed all their clothing and ascend to the heavens so
they may live floating above with their heads in the clouds.
The earth people shall also become naked but dig holes in the dirt so that
they may live bent over with their heads underground.
During this age, the moderate peoples of all nations shall grow silent and
disappear, wearily retreating from the sight of so many assholes.
(music: “Vivian and Ondine” by William Basinski is licensed under Creative
Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States and curated
by freemusicarchive.org / sound effects by soundjay.com)
I’ll tunnel into the Google Complex. I’ll make them fix my Nexus 7 which hasn’t worked right since Lollipop. I should’ve know that when the new unhealthy treat name of the OS 5.0 wasn’t as good as the unhealthy treat 4.0 was named after it would suck. Kit Kat should have been replaced by It’s Its or Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Icecream. I want Google to know if I wanted a device that doesn’t work right I would have paid the extra for Apple. Maybe I’ll try uninstalling my apps and clearing the cache or Factory Reset first.
Seeing my son’s face after he ate an unprocessed olive was nearly priceless and I wish I would have taken a picture but the coolest part of the wine tour was the wine tunnel. Literally as well as figuratively since our visit to Napa Valley was in the summer when it gets very hot outside but it was not hot in the tunnel. Watching all of those barrels sitting there with the wine aging in them wondering if we would survive an earthquake down there. On second thought the wine, vinegar dip, and olive dip tasting was my favorite part.
Walt had made his fortune here
The underground …
the counterculture …
here the inhabitants aren’t above the law,they are below the radar.
Unheard, unseen by normal society …
a place where anything might be available, anything can happen.
:Pot, pills, coke, heroin …
murder, weapons, whores …
all manner of goods and services!
Walt had made a nice living providing such things to those who wanted them.
Walt made his fortune from the secrets he kept!
10,000 well kept secrets earned Walt millions!
One un-kept secret cost him everything!
Shot in the head, fed to the dogs …
his death became underground legend!
Trouble was brewing at school; I was failing the fourth grade. How can you fail reading?
Like a good catholic, I prayed to every saint I could muster.
St Quigley answered: “Look to the sea of letters”.
The next day, I asked my most troubling spelling question, and the answer appeared in the cereal –
This worked for several years, through graduate school. Honeycombs for science, Fruity Pebbles for geology, Lucky Charms when I had no clue.
By age 31, cereals had been reformulated to a more nutrious, non-sugary base. No more answers and I am doomed to black coffee.
Dergle looked at his cards. “That’s not a very good hand.”
He looked around the table. The Cat Lady shrugged and the dealer stared, expressionless.
“You taking another card, Weiner Dog Man?” Superconductor asked.
“I don’t know,” Dergle said. “It’s a seventeen, and if I was only wagering five dollars and not my life, I would hold. But if the dealer’s hiding a face card, I’m lost. What would the house recommend?”
“This is an illegal underground card room, not a friendly Vegas casino. You have to make your own decisions,” Superconductor said.
Dergle reached out and tapped the table.
There is no Underground anymore. Corporate America has purchased the real estate, bought all the media outlets, and controls the music we hear. Our corporate media tells us what to think, what to feel, which pretty much means feel nothing, unless you are going to buy a sweater a Macy’s. Because we corporate American’s LOVE Macy’s. We pray allegiance to our corporate overlords, the mere concept of “Underground” has been driven underground. And society suffers for it. After all, your listening to nothing more than a corporate condominium erected in the place where music once lived and breathed, then died.
A faint line of smoke came up from the manhole. It smelled deliciously of grilled food. Sean found that odd and decided to investigate.
The manhole led to the sewers. At some point, these connected with the old tunnels of the underground. That’s where he met Henry.
“Why do you live here?”
Henry replied “Why not?”
“Well, it’s too dark.”
“It’s not what you see with your eyes that matters.”
There were hundreds of people living there, adjusting.
Sean decided to drop his life above ground.
“We’ll be ready,” said Henry.
When the catastrophe happened, they were the only survivors.
Ted had a book.
So did I.
Sally found two in the trash.
That’s how the underground library began.
People from all over the city brought books.
It didn’t matter what kind of book.
The language. The subject. The condition.
We gathered them all up in the library.
People came to read.
People came to learn.
People came to share knowledge.
It was only a matter of time before the authorities found us.
They burned the books.
And some of the readers.
Still, a few books survived.
Ted had a book.
So did I.
And we began the library again.