The 100 Word Stories Podcast

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at oneadayuntilthedayidie.com.

This is the Weekly Challenge, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.

We’ve got stories by:

• Tom
• Jon
• Jeffrey
• Justin the Space Turtle
• Charlie
• Richard
• Lizzie
• Serendipity
• Tura
• Munsi
• Norval Joe
• Laieanna
• Danny Dwyer
• Planet Z

TOM

Thinking Outside of the Box

“Thump Thump.” “Shut up.” “THUMP THUMP.” “I’m not letting you out.” “thump.” “You can do this all day.” “Scratch scratch” “Good you have finally come to grips with the situation.” “thump thump thump thump thump.” “You’re going to wear yourself out, not to mention how much oxygen you’re crewing up in the box. Don’t want to bring unwanted eyes around.” “Tap Tap Tap.” “That’s more like it. Good you’re getting into the sprite. I’ll be going now, just got a text from you girlfriend. Wouldn’t want you to get lonely. Be back in jiffy.”

Tap tap tap tap tap tap

JON

In the Night

By

Jon DeCles

If you hear a creak in the dark hours of the night you can attribute it to the settling of the house, maybe to a nearby tree, if there is one. If you hear scratching, you can imagine that tree scraping against the windows, if there is a wind, or, less hopefully, to the presence of rats in the walls.

As you lie there in bed, even if there is a night light, your imagination can be a powerful adversary to sleep. Every small sound opens your inner gateways to avenues of horror.

None is so unwelcome as a thump.

JEFFREY

At the Grocery
by Jeffrey Fischer

I watched the woman with the child thump on a melon again and again. It wasn’t clear how much she was learning about the quality of the melon, at least until she punched a hole in the fruit. She put it back on the display and started thumping a second melon.

Later on, I saw her feeding grapes to her child. Hey, free food! In the bulk foods aisle, she let the kid run loose. He grabbed handfuls of candy from some bins, shoving food in his mouth, then grabbed nuts and trail mix, spitting out what he didn’t like.

Now I knew why my grocery bill was so high and why I got sick frequently after shopping trips.

JUSTIN

Jettisoned into space.

My whole entire life is a shrinking cracked wreck behind me. It’s not burning since there isn’t any oxygen to keep fire going. It’s already starting to freeze. I will too, eventually. There’s no one out here to rescue us.

I look back and I can’t even see the remains anyone it’s so dark. What happened? Why? Was it an accident? Did anyone else make it out?

Will it even matter? Maybe, just maybe I’ll find a place to land this thing. Or maybe I will just …

I hear a thump on the wall. It’s from … outside.

All Dharma Mining Worlds ship escape pods have calming nature sounds, lol

CHARLIE

I could hear Eddie booming across the room, headed for the hall bathroom. Every hour, like clockwork, he would thump across the floor, taking his weak, challenged bladder to the toilet. His haphazard lifestyle weakened some critical organs, sphincters, and orifices in his body.

He worked as a barista at Starbucks. At work, he would find a way to use the gents, and never leave anyone waiting at the counter.

Living well into his mid-eighties, he wore a collection bag strapped to his leg, allowing him to work longer shifts, and giving him more freedom on the dance floor.

RICHARD

P.I.

‘T. Hump – Private Investigator’, said the faded lettering.

Sighing, I turned the handle; had it really come to this?

A shabby waiting room, peeling paint falling to hide the damp patches, torn magazines littering the scratched coffee table. An overwhelmingly depressing feeling of loss and desperation.

Not just the room, me also – shabby, unkempt, desperate.

Here where the seedy side of existence was watched, documented and called to account.

Again, I wondered, how I’d arrived here? Then unlocked my office, sat behind my desk, and waited for my first client of the day to walk through the door.

LIZZIE

Thump, thump, thump, the little rabbit rushes on, thumping his little leg on the ground.
And he huffs and he puffs.
Thump, thump, thump. Away, farther away, the little rabbit thumps southbound, immersed in thoughts profound.
And he huffs and he puffs, harder and harder and kicks and kicks around.
“Where’s the playground? Where’s the foxhound?”
And the thumping little thumps, they abound.
Sick of this monotony of sounds, the thumping rabbit goes underground, still huffing, still puffing.
But, oh… what happened, what happened? He tripped, knocked his head on the ground, poor little thumping rabbit, said the wicked ultrasound.

SERENDIPITY

The thump of mortars, the chatter of automatic weapons, the screams and moans of the dead and dying: That’s the worst thing about warfare – it’s so noisy!

People wonder how someone responsible for atrocities and so much destruction can sleep at night. Well, believe me, it’s not easy, amongst that racket!

So I’m switching to unconventional weapons of mass destruction: Biological warfare being my weapon of choice.

Simple, deadly; but, most of all, quiet!

Just one gentle cough in your direction, and let nature get on with the job.

And I – finally – get a good night’s sleep!

TURA

Thump
———
Instantly on the thump of an explosion I move out, my software calculating the likely origin of the missile.

My image analyser detects an enemy and I dive into a doorway, ahead of a burst of bullets. I manoeuvre always closer, while the software shows my adversary’s likely movements as a diffusing probability cloud. I fire some mortar shells to blow that cloud into a tight spot.

What is free will, when all your choices lead to the place of my choice?

At the end, he surrenders. A single, efficient bullet answers him. I am not programmed to take prisoners.

MUNSI

Thump
By Christopher Munroe

Thump, thump, thump.

Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump, thump.

Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump, thump.

Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump, thump.

And then be bass kicks in and the whole thing continues like that for approximately nine minutes.

Which you’d think would become maddening in it’s repetitiveness, but it actually, weirdly, hasn’t.

Maybe it’s the club drugs, maybe gratitude that it’s not Dubstep, or maybe just pleasure at sharing in the energy of a crowd, but we do all love the soundtrack we’ve chosen, here on the party-bus.

There’s something about it that unifies us.

Oh, who the hell am I kidding? It’s the club drugs…

LAIEANNA

“Can’t Rattle My Chains”

Ear against wood, I listened intently to the hallway sounds outside my
apartment. Thump, thump, thump, groan, shuffle, and repeat. I was
warned about strange occurrences in the building, but hadn’t believed
it true. Steeling myself for a surprise, I swung the door open wide.

The dressed all in black fourth floor resident stopped dragging a
bloody soaked body to ask, “Can I help you?”

I sighed, sagging against the doorframe, “Oh thank god, I thought I
was hearing a ghost.”

He grinned. “Wouldn’t want any of those.”

“Not at all,” I agreed as I casually shut my door again.

NORVAL JOE

Every time I see the word, thump, I think of that jackass who got elected president of the United States.
Over the last few years I’ve tried to not say disparaging things about people or their opinions. There’s enough hate in our world. I don’t need to add to it.
I have consistently criticized our political system and said we need a break from career politicians and professional lobbyists.
We got our break. I guess I should be happy.
It would have been nice to get someone who would try to bring the country together instead of tearing it apart.

DANNY

I’ve lost faith in those I never should have had faith in to begin with. I’ve lost the ability to forgive, and maybe that’s a good thing in a world trying to cut my life. When your best friend curses you out on your death bed, because your unable to carry the weight of his world, then somebody needs to back off. Whoever wanted to play someone they never wanted to be to begin with? Life has this tendency to come back and slam you in the face in unexpected ways, till death. Yet my heart still beats with a….

PLANET Z

Sasha knew that you’re supposed to thump a melon to determine if it’s ripe, but she didn’t know what to listen for.
Only that you should thump the melon.
Like her mom used to, and then with a nod of her head, she’d put the melon in the cart.
Sasha never thought to ask… ask…
Google!
She pulled out her smartphone and Googled for the answer.
“Hollow and high pitched” was the answer.
She gently thumped the melon.
Again, the ghostly voice whispered “I will kill you.”
Sasha put the melon back and went with a prepared fruit tray instead.

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at oneadayuntilthedayidie.com.

This is the Weekly Challenge, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.

We’ve got stories by:

• Tom
• Jon
• Charlie
• Jeffrey
• Richard
• Lizzie
• Serendipity
• Tura
• Norval Joe
• Laieanna
• Munsi
• Planet Z

TOM

1957
When I was young there was a program called Circus Boy. It stared Micky Dolenz who later shared led vocals with the Davy Jones (which is how we got David Bowe ) in that TV Chimera band the Monkies. Circus Boy was an orphan who took care of an elephant and had cool adventures. It pretty much inspired every boomer kid to long to run away and join the circus. Those were simpler times, a reboot of Circus Boy would take place in post-trumpian dystopian sort of Mad Max meets the Ringling Brothers. Maybe they could get Dolenz to play Joey.

JON

The Circus Has Come and Gone
By Jon DeCles

The Great Circus has come and now is gone.

We were not as smart then. We didn’t know that many animals were people. We didn’t know that many humans were people. We treated elephants and slaves with equal parts cruelty and stupidity. We escaped the disease and war that wrecked out own lives by laughing and cheering at the risks and ruins of the colorfully clad lives before us. For a couple of hours a year our lives could be rose-tinted, and it made us safe from our trouble and pain.

For that, we truly loved our distracting great circus.

CHARLIE

No ordinary circus, but the yearly backyard circus for the kid’s birthday. We invited Sparky The Clown and his wife, Nada. They specialized in site gags, clever patter, live mice, snakes, and fire gags.

The first casualty was the back fence, taken down to the corner posts with the first fire gag. The second casualty was grandma, who fainted when she saw the boa take two live mice into its jaws in the first few minutes of the show.

Sparky got a little drunk, sneaking drinks from his flask, and diddled the wife while she barbecued the fat, Polish sausages.

JEFFREY

No One Goes to the Circus Any More
by Jeffrey Fischer

The circus came to town. It was sold out. The children loved all the acts, from the trapeeze artists to jugglers to clowns, but especially tigers and elephants performing tricks. PETA organized a boycott, saying it was cruel to cage tigers.

The next year, the circus again came to town. It was well-attended, even though the circus had sold the tigers. PETA boycotted again, complaining it was demeaning to make elephants perform tricks.

The next year, the circus made its annual appearance. With no animal acts, kids didn’t want to go. Attendance was poor. The circus came no longer. Children coud only dream about the joy of seeing tigers and elephants. But to PETA, a child’s joy meant nothing.

RICHARD

#1 – Circus

This place is becoming a circus!

The boss is useless – barking commands and cracking the whip, whilst the managers are a bunch of clowns, running around in circles, falling over their feet and making a complete mess. As for me, I’m juggling priorities and jobs, trying not to drop the ball.
I feel like I’m walking a tightrope, and no safety net: Screw up just once and you’ll find yourself in the lion’s den.

So, I’m looking for a new job. Either that, or I’ll run away to join the circus… Well, I reckon I’m qualified for it already!

#2 – Autocorrected

You’ve got to watch autocorrect – a simple slip can cause all sorts of unexpected results. I put an advertisement in the local paper to try and recruit new students: It was remarkably successful, although the recruits weren’t quite what I’d expected.

I knew something was up when the first clowns started to arrive. Within a week, I had a motley collection of sword swallowers, trapeze artists and lion tamers, and frankly, they weren’t at all impressed with the programme I’d arranged for them to follow.

Next time I’ll proofread the ad… It was circuit training, you idiots, not circus!

LIZZIE

What a Circus

Four men entered the Carnival grounds and shot a few rounds left and right before robbing the cash register in the souvenirs stand. Luckily, they didn’t hurt anyone. Sophie, however, wasn’t happy. She pulled on her father’s hand, wide-eyed. The 5-year old pointed at the carousel, a big hole on the thigh of one of the horses. The father nodded. When the robbers were arrested, they were sick to their stomachs. Sophie’s father, with the help of other by-standers, had tied them up to the colorful horses, heads down, and made them go a few rounds, left and right.

SERENDIPITY

Roll up and welcome, to my Circus of Horrors!

Dare to step inside and see sights to confound you; observe mysteries beyond belief.

Behold, the bearded baby, the rat tailed woman and the three headed maiden. Marvel at Cockroach Boy, gasp in horror at the skinless girl, and puzzle over Mr Back to Front.

And then, I invite you to step through the far curtain, beyond which lies a sterile room, and a nurse with a hypodermic syringe.

And it is there I shall work my very special brand of surgery, upon you… My newest, and most peculiar exhibit yet!

TURA

Circus
———
On Pearl Street, I saw a juggler entertaining a crowd with 5-club back-crosses.

Cirque du Soleil were in town, so I asked, “Are you with Cirque?”

“That’s a story!” he answered, starting double Mills Mess. “This friend of mine, joins the Cirq. 12 hours training every day, 3 performances every night. Lasted 18 months, never juggled again.”

He began a seven ball cascade. There’s not many can do that.

“Don’t get me wrong, they’re top class. Go see them! But I got freedom!”

He nudged his upturned hat towards the crowd. “Save me from having to work for the Cirq!”
———

NORVAL JOE

My girlfriend surprised me when she suddenly stormed out of the bedroom and shouted at me, “I can’t take it here anymore. I’m leaving. Living with you is a circus.”
‘”I’m sorry, Babe,” I said to her, putting down my juggling balls. “I know I said the Borzshinski Brothers would only be here for a few days. I’ll get rid of them, and their dancing bear.”
“It’s too late,” she said, picking up our pet poodle. “And I’m taking the dog.”
Resigned, I gave her Fifi’s pink tutu and said, “You’d better take this, too. She won’t perform without it.”

LAIEANNA

Though she made the decision late in life, Sally’s choice for a circus
retirement seemed reasonable to her. It held the prospect of
adventure and excitement. All she was leaving behind was a cat who
barely tolerated her, a half empty apartment, and a monotonous job.

They let her in, but with no talent, Sally showed no promise and was
given something to suit her strengths. Still alone, still secluded,
she spent her days repeating her task – handing out tickets.

The moral? It doesn’t always pay to runaway to the circus. Sometimes
your escape is still just the mundane.

MUNSI

Clown Bus
By Christopher Munroe

You can fit a dozen clowns into a mid-sized car.

Car-clowning, fitting clowns into a clown-car, is a specific discipline in the clowning community, but one that’s still taught, and still a crowd-pleaser even after all these years.

I don’t remember why we decided to see how many clowns would fit on our party-bus. Drinks were involved, we were feeling boisterous after a lovely day at the circus, and it seemed like a good idea at the time…

319, in case you were wondering.

Four of whom travel with us still.

Though they wound up trashing the bus.

No regrets.

PLANET Z

I like circuses.
The ones with elephants and clowns and lions and tigers.
And motorcycles in a big round steel cage, where they go round and round.
Nowadays, a circus is a bunch of French-Canadians bouncing on trampolines with laser shows and weird costumes and sets.
Or some stoned hippie sitting by the side of the road, offering to take you on a trip through the circus of your mind.
I tried it once. And when the acid kicked in, the trip was really cool.
But I woke up robbed of everything but my underwear.
Worst Groupon I’ve ever bought.