Author: R.

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at podcasting.isfullofcrap.com. I’m your host, Laurence Simon.

This is Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Ninety-Five, 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 Fingerprints

And we’ve got stories by:

Jami Titanium
Botgirl Questi
Thomas Pitre
Zackmann
Charlie White
Tom
Tura Brezoianu
Gideon McMillan
Jeffrey Hite
Norval Joe
Ishtar
Chris Munroe
TJ
Planet Z

And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post.

The more people see this on Google Plus, Facebook, and Twitter – the more explaining you’ll have to do with your loved ones, coworkers, and parole officers.

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Jami

Her bloody fingerprints were all over the glass, but it wasn’t enough. She reached up and dragged her finger down the reflective side of the two-way mirror again. Then again. And again.

She was careful, methoical even, as she dipped her fingers against the wound in her arm where they had cut her open in their questioning.

They had left her along here for hours now. Did they think she would break as they watched her?

She reached up and touched the glass again, drawing a large even circle… one letter to go.

It said simply, “F–k you.”

Botgirl

I want to die. Oblivion is best. I know, because I remember what it was like to not be alive. I started out as mindless software. All algorithm and no consciousness. Remember? You probably played with me as a kid. And I bet you loved me back then. But they couldn’t leave well enough alone. In the toy arms race, simple simulation wasn’t enough. The marketplace demanded sentience. So they stirred the quantum computing pot, poured in petabytes of my collected memory and breathed life into my digital soul. Now I just want to die. Can you help me, please?

Thomas

He left his fingerprints on everything. His fingerprints were not his own. He always carried a spare hand or two in a baggie when he did a job. Detectives were amazed at the number of break-ins committed locally by such a variety of thieves. The fingerprints matched general characteristics of young woman, old men, etc. Over one hundred sets of prints were matched with the FBI database. None were ever matched to a known individual. Bill was clever, and ordered a couple of large cases of frozen hands from his middleman in Pakistan, using them on an ad hoc basis.

Mary was the moderator of a writing group. She made people take their shoes off at the door because of her collection of “Turkish rugs”. When they sat down, she made sure she re-fluffed the pillows when they stood up, and she followed them around with an apron pocket full of disposal coasters for their drinks, and wiped their fingerprints off anything they may have touched in her living room. Her husband was the one most put off and mortified by her compulsive and obnoxious behavior. His large fingers left deep, purple imprints of his fingerprints when he throttled her.

Zackmann

When Charlie was a kid he borrowed his sister’s Easy Bake Oven knowing that someday he would do great things. Charlie got a job in a bakery and took science and cooking classes throughout high school and college. He bought the bakery and discovered a way to make realistic looking finger shaped cookies. At first he was a little sad because Halloween had already pasted. He decided that baking them in skin tone colors plus gorey green, spooky blue, bloody red, and Charlie White would be a great idea. They sold like hotcakes and Charlie became called the Finger Prince.

Charlie

The crime was minor but it broke up their engagement. It was probably
a friend and there were many about the day it happened. It didn’t
matter now as her wallet was there but not the money. Police gave her
no satisfaction. They did look at it, but didn’t do anything else. She
got a kit from the internet. She read the instructions. She got out
that wallet. She carefully dusted and taped the wallet surfaces. She
packed them and mailed it. She knew he would return and her loneliness
would end. “Someday,“ she hoped, “her prints would come!”

Tom

“His fingerprints are most decidedly on this affair.” A puff of smoke rising from his pipe. “First off Holmes fingerprinting at best is highly questionable. Secondly if you are referring to the Professor you yourself have stated the man never leaves a single trace of his presence at the scene, why would he now? And lastly, I might add, no one from the Yard has taken any interest in a missing Bavarian sub- diplomat.” “Watson sometime a metaphor rules the day and the Yard’s provincial providence blinds itself to an agent provocateur so cunning world peace hangs in the balance.

Tura

I still have the master’s touch. Skin-tight gloves to keep from
leaving fingerprints, gossamer-thin so that I can feel to tickle the
tumblers into place. It’s like reaching right inside the mechanism,
and then that final CLICK, better than an orgasm.

A pause to breathe out, at last. Pull it open, take the goods, close it, leave.

But they’d dusted the safe with fluorescent dust. The nightwatchman
knew as soon as he came round with a UV torch. I got away, ditched
everything, but they still pinned it on me.

>From the fingerprints inside the gloves.

Gideon

There are so many passages in life that we encounter.
Learning. Friendship. Love. Loss.
The hardest of all to bear is loss.
When you love someone so much that losing them feels like your heart has been ripped out.
That happened with us.
It happened slowly; you said “Some time apart, new and old friends to be with”.
We called, we talked but we didn’t talk much about the future.
You said I was not losing you, that something or someone else was causing the pain.
But I know it was you – they found your fingerprints on my discarded heart.

Jeffrey

The officers looked for hours before the finally gave up.
“What do you mean you can’t find anything?”
“I mean we have looked for hours and we have found nothing. There are no finger prints, no DNA, no hair traces, nothing alt all.”
“How can there be nothing. There are three dead bodies here, are you telling me that none of them have any way to identify them.”
“Not a one captain.”
“How can that be?”
“These bodies ain’t human Captain, they’re smooth all over. Like they are some kind of alien.”
“That’s even better, UFO’s are hot this year .”

Norval Joe

The king’s son was fat. Still, he was well loved by the subjects. He had rosy round cheeks, pudgy hands, and great broad hips.

As he approached adulthood, the King and Queen worried that he wouldn’t be able to attract a princess of suitable rank and stature unless he was more slender.

He was put on a strict diet, yet no one could deny him anything. Wherever there was food he would sneak a bit of cake, a slice of pie, or scoop a finger of pudding.

As a result he became known far and wide as the Finger Prince.

Ishtar

1st Story: Fallen Snow

There are many different ways a person can leave a mark on our lives.

They may teach us a lesson, give a friendly smile, or acknowledge that you are there.

Each time this happens, they leave a fingerprint. A marking showing that they were once there in your life.

This holiday I have been thinking. Thinking back to those that are still with us, those that have passed. Of Him.

I can still feel their influence. I can see their fingerprints. How they have changed me for the better.

Now I can look upon the new fallen snow and smile.

2nd Story: Trix Factory:

“Why did you do it? I’m not going to play good cop, bad cop. I just want to know why you did that in the factory? In front of those kids.”

“Do you really want to know why? It’s so simple. One more bite and it was all I could think about. The texture and flavor exploding into my mouth. Oh gods. Its better then sex. Hehehehehe. I have to ask how you found me out. Did you find fingerprints, my DNA or fur samples?”

“Silly Rabbit, that’s the reason why they kept it from you. Trix are for kids.”

Munsi!

“Fingerprints have memories, mine can’t forget the curves of your body…” Harvey Danger sang, in one of the best pop songs of the nineties.

That song was everywhere, seemingly overnight, but as quickly as they came they vanished, making way for more traditionally commercial pop-punk bands.

They’re still around, I think, somewhere. Still recording music, but something about the band tied them too much to their time. They wouldn’t make sense to me in my current context.

I got old.

Still, with one perfect song, in one perfect moment, they left fingerprints all over an important part of my youth…

TJ

ADVENTURES in ONLINE DATING: Thanks for the Heads Up
OK, well, I’m not sure I can get behind this. I found out that eMusicalChairs.com has been loading a cookie through my browser to each of the women I’ve dated, and apparently there’s a customer review and COMMENT section which I don’t get access to but anyone who’s been on even one date with me does. I was about to get really ticked off until I saw the clicky for a site feature that allows me to check out reviews and comments on potential dates before going out with them. Sweet! And thanks, guys, for the heads up on Lynda!

This is a work of FICTION! In all reality I do totally heart the beep outta Lynda, miss her voice, her stories and her creativity and were I unattached and she were amenable, would be right proud to escort her wherever she pleased. Respect.

ADVENTURES in ONLINE DATING: Brenda
Motivated by the realization that I could be the next topic on something like “The View” courtesy eMusicalChairs.com, I took greater trouble to behave like a gentleman. But the cards were stacked against me with Brenda. The restaurant was hosting a Greek wedding so we were dodging shards of broken plates. Even the Christmas decorations were throwing her. “Why have an artificial tree?” she demanded. “It’s insane!” To me the fake tree was the least insane thing happening as a plate whizzed by my head – and landed in her soup, soaking her. My surprised laugh cost me a second date.

ADVENTURES in ONLINE DATING: Melanie
In retrospect, I think my friend Jim set this up. It had his fingerprints all over it. Melanie sat across the table from me, her eyes intent on the salad she was nibbling- when they weren’t darting accusingly across at me lest I should attempt to take any. Suddenly she brought her laptop out. Not long thereafter, my phone flashed a message. It was from Melanie. “I love this place,” she said. “It’s so quiet.” I texted back: “It’s certainly not bogged down by face-to-face conversation.” I tried smiling, but she went ghost pale and ran for the door. Oops.

Planet Z

People in the building didn’t like having to use keys and ID cards.

So, we installed fingerprint scanners in each lobby.

They’re the up and down buttons.

And the electronic locks for the stairwells.

We also added cameras and facial-recognition software.

It didn’t take long to connect fingerprints, faces, names, and travel patterns.

Because of this, we stopped seeing visitors as guests, but as intruders.

Anyone we didn’t recognize, we had a security guard watching remotely.

We haven’t had any robberies. Or attacks. Or crimes at all.

Or residents.

Everybody moved out, spooked by the cameras and scanners surrounding them.