The 100 Word Stories Podcast

I blew up a bit in this one… leave a comment to let the writers know if you liked their stories.

• Richard
• Lizzie
• Lisa
• Serendipidy
• Tura
• Norval Joe
• Planet Z

The next topic is Riot Of Color

RICHARD

Old Videos

Tucked away at the back of the wardrobe, I’ve several boxes, stuffed full of old videos.

I’ve had them boxed up for around twenty years now, and they’ve followed me through at least three house moves, carefully packed up, transported, and put away in their new home.

Why have I kept them?

Through some vague sense, of ‘I might want to watch them, one day’? Not that I’ve anything to play them on anyway.

And the fact is, I’ve not watched any of them in the last twenty years, and probably never will.

But I keep them.

Just in case.

TURA

Old Videos
———
I have a stack of VHS tapes I’ve never got around to watching. I still have a VCR, but I never have the time. I could convert them to digital files, but my video to USB converter is so old it’s not compatible with my current OS. I could replace it, but when will I find time to do the conversion? Will I ever watch them anyway?

If I put this off too long, the tapes will degrade and won’t be playable at all. Then at last I’ll be able to dump them.

Maybe I should just dump them now.

LISA

Something Nasty in the Woodshed

Me and Simon had only gone round to help Fay next door clear the attic. Her husband had died a month ago, him and Dad had been as thick as thieves. She was moving somewhere smaller.

There were boxes of old video tapes up there with dates and girls names on. We’d seen the documentaries so joked about our serial killer neighbour.

After unearthing an old player we stopped for lunch and watched a video. It was much worse than we suspected. And it looked like he buried them in their garden.

“Fuck!” said Simon “is that your Dad digging?”

SERENDIPIDY

There are old videos of life in the village: Life before the calamity.

Grainy, blurred videos in washed out colour of picnics on the village green, laughing toddlers at the playground, couples, friends, families happy and relaxed, without a care in the world.

There’s even the odd wedding video.

Good times. Nobody could ever have imagined the horror that was to come.

It was a fine spring day, late in June. The sun was shining, and people were going about their business, blissfully unaware of what was coming their way.

For that was the day I arrived at the village.

LIZZIE

“Come on. It’s starting,” I said. Old videos and popcorn!
But… I had forgotten. Our old videos don’t go with popcorn. They go with sorrow.
“Say cheese for the camera,” they would say cheerfully.
We never did, no.
“Don’t be so grumpy all the time, you two.”
We were kids. We weren’t grumpy. We weren’t stupid. We weren’t shitheads. We were just kids.
Memory is such a trickster, isn’t it? It erases everything.
And here I was, in front of the TV, a bowl full of popcorn on my lap.
I wanted to cry, but I had no tears left.

NORVAL JOE

The woman seemed surprised by Billbert’s request for a back exit. Then she smiled and led them past a rack of dusty VHS movies for rent, through a door and into what appeared to be the woman’s home. A chunky man in a sleeveless t-shirt and gray slacks, sitting at a dining table didn’t look up from his newspaper as they traipsed past.
A back door led them to a wooden porch, forty feet above the placid Matole river.
The woman nodded to some stairs. “These will take you to a trail along the river, if that’s what you want.”

PLANET Z

Old Man Pinella sits in his home theatre, watching videos of the band.
Jason on guitar, Billy on bass, Joe on keyboards, and Wally on drums.
And then there was Vicky… oh, how she could sing.
The crowd was spellbound… after every song, silence.
And then the loudest applause and cheering and shouting.
The last video ends, and Pinella sits in the dark.
Remembering the band coming backstage, roadies packing up the equipment, and Pinella handing out plane tickets.
“I’ll see you in Chicago,” Pinella said to the dark screen.
He sips his coffee, and walks out of the theatre.

• Richard
• Lizzie
• Lisa
• Serendipidy
• Tom
• Norval Joe
• Planet Z

The next topic is Old Videos

LISA

A Proud Murid Mother of Seven

Her babies were born during a summer thunderstorm. She nurtured them in a disused ventilation shaft whilst secretly dreading the day they’d leave the nest.

She prepared them well though – taught them about hawks, owls, cats and foxes even racoons although there weren’t many of those to be found around Digbeth Coach Station. She warned them of the temptation of poison bait boxes, and the dangers of eating cold kebab meat straight from the bin.

They first ventured out at the crack of dawn. They stuck closely together but went straight under the wheels of the overnight coach from Aberdeen.

RICHARD

Hello World

I’ve always been painfully shy. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been the one hiding in the corner, keeping as low a profile as possible, and avoiding interaction with others.

It had to stop.

I got counselling – in itself a huge leap forward – and they gave me suggestions of ways to break out of my shell.

The internet was the perfect way to keep people at a distance, whilst stepping out of my comfort zone.

Try writing stories for a podcast, they said.

So, I did.

And here I am.

At long last, it’s my turn to shine!

LIZZIE

At the crack of dawn, the rats would come out to play.
He knew they would try to shine.
But he wouldn’t let them. Oh, no.
At the crack of dawn, the rats would start to talk.
He knew they’d give him up.
But he wouldn’t let them. Oh, no.
There was only one way to stop this madness.
He drove to them.
At the crack of dawn, he knocked on their door.
They opened, saw him and tried to run.
It was messy and they never got to shine.
He almost felt for them, at the crack of dawn.

SERENDIPIDY

Every morning, at the crack of dawn, the rats return to their lair.

The village breathes a collective sigh of relief, and once the sun is high in the sky, life can resume as normal.

Doors and shutters are checked, freshly-gnawed holes are filled, and bait and traps set, only then can we attend to the preparing and cooking of the meat snared overnight.

Once we have eaten, we prepare once more, for the darkness and horror of the night.

By day, we may feast on the rats, but when the night comes, they seek to feast on us.

TOM

Even in the quietest moments

Maurice surveyed the horizon, a mere sliver of light over the waves of black sand. He was not the one to be up at the crack of dawn. He was the night hawk, the man with the 10,000-yard stare. When he saw her face in the starlight, he could not bare to wake Amanda. It was the first time in weeks he noted the grief had for a moment crept away into the blackness about them. The trouble with the blackness is it was just as likely to creep back at you. What was creeping towards them were the rats.

NORVAL JOE

A kindly old woman smiled at them from behind the counter inside the store. She leaned forward to look out the window. “How’d you three get here?”
Sabrina picked up a shiny packet of powdered donuts. “We’ve been walking since the crack of dawn. Will this road take us to Eureka?”
She nodded. “Ferndale, Fortuna, then on to Eureka.”
Billbert paid for their donuts and milk. He headed for the door and stopped. A jeep pulled into the parking lot with three familiar passengers.
“Rats!” Billbert said. “In reviewal of our situation, is there a back door we can use?”

PLANET Z

Drusilla is painfully shy.
Sits in the back of the classroom.
Never raises her hand.
Wets herself when she’s called on anyway.
And if she answers, she answers in a whisper.
Changes in a bathroom stall for gym.
And runs to the bathroom to change back.
Nobody invites her to their parties.
Which is fine by her.
She likes to keep to herself.
And her pet rats.
Well, she calls them her pet rats.
But they’re just ordinary rats in the house.
Running around the cellar.
She puts out cheese for them.
They eat, and run back into the shadows.