R. – Page 718 – The 100 Word Stories Podcast

The Dusty Siren

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Wearing white lace, just like when we first met.
I chased her into the desert in the heat of the moment.
She sits there, beckoning, just out of reach.
Look again. A ragged sheet, blown across a dead tree stump.
Did I imagine her? Or did she imagine me, begging for one final kiss?
I can’t reach her. Too weak to crawl. Too damn weak to crawl.
Reach for me. Reach out to me and pull me into your embrace, my love.
She sits there, watching.
One final scream, a groan into the wind, and my mouth fills with dust.

The Symbol

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I saw the eagle symbol on her wrist.
Eagle symbols are for good luck and strength, but usually the eagle’s got the beak pointing to the fingers.
Hers points to the elbow, so I know it’s a fake.
It’s got the right colors, and it’s very well done.
But it’s a fake. It’s covering up another symbol.
While she sleeps, I look closely at it… the outline of something is under that eagle.
Weasel? Owl? Snake?
It’s some kind of criminal brand, something she got from the Eagles before they threw her out of their camp.
What has she done?

Weekly Challenge #67 – Fatal Wound

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Welcome to the sixty-seventh 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 selected by Laieanna of Hodgepodge Point: Fatal Wound.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
SOMETHING NEW
Due to popular demand, I am going to include stories that were sent to me, but without a recording. However, since the midget has left for sunny Coral Gables, Florida, those stories will just be posted in the show notes. You’re more than welcome to vote for them, but they will be ineligible for prizes or topic selection.
I feel that this is a fair balance between the podcast and blog natures of this content.
Feel free to share your thoughts on this decision in the comments, and we might possibly come up with an even better and more fair policy for handling these kinds of situations.
VOTING
Go ahead and listen to them by clicking on the grammophone thingy there in the left column and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

WE GOTS PRIZES:
I will be sending the winner a prize… it’s refrigerator magnets for the podcast. Massive amounts of fridge magnets were mailed out in the past week… watch your mail, and let me know if I’ve missed you.
It is your voting that determines who wins. So listen, vote, and tune in next week to find out who won!

STUART

The couple argued intensely as former lovers with passion as fiery than any other relationship anyone ever saw quickly descended into a flaring argument that could be heard down the streets of Brooklyn.
He said, She said thats how it goes. He smashes the glass bottle, she screams in anguish and pain
His body fell still, He could hardly believe his eyes at what devious act he had just watched and committed. It all happened so fast and then crashed into slow motion like out of a Hollywood blockbuster.
The blood begins to drip like raindrops on his cold skin.

TOM

The titanium rail gun’s sight was centered on that Austrian Art School
want-a-be prick. Wolfgang Z14 contently smiled as he pulled the trigger a
fatal wound for a future Führer. Within Z’s brain the holocaust vanished
replaced by a 1000 years of Pax Zionose Europa.
The spinning mangled marionette of a man suddenly righted himself, woundless.
Wolfgang Z tried to blink but failed to close his lids before he vanished.
The dead returned to dead, the unborn remained unborn, a golden Europe became
gray. When the time rift settled the last of Hitler’s genetic pool reappeared
and took aim again.

LAIEANNA

Ours was an epic battle that raged through timeless years, never ending, never slowing, but we were losing to our enemy. They were constantly changing with the centuries, inventing destruction in bigger, more powerful ways. And yet it was the simplest of weapons that we truly feared. We, on the other hand, always remained the same.
My day to fall came when one of their foot soldiers took an axe to my side. I awakened to the pain of cold steel vibrations. The wound was my end. With a push, I went down to the sounds of his triumph.
“Timber!”

GUY

There was a strange buzz sound. Something was definitely wrong. The microphone was not supposed to make such a sound. Than it made a gurgling noise. I thought “that is strange”, then I looked closely and, suddenly I could see it, the microphone was wounded, and… it was a fatal wound.
I gave it a decent burial. It was still young, but I have already grown attached to it. I’m now using an old mike I found laying somewhere around the house, but, it’s not the same. I shell always remember it fondly. That mike was such a dear friend.

CALEB

I told her that my love for her was like a fatal wound and that only she could save a life. That she was the balm in Gilead; that the power of love over death was in her hand and her hand only. But she just laughed. She didn’t care if I lived or if I died. So I am very sorry for everything. I’m sorry that such extreme measures had to be taken but be assured that it could’ve been avoided. Take that, you heartless bitch! I never said it was MY life she could save. I’m not crazy.

SARAH

She sat in the room quietly crying.
Crying like she had cried all those times he never came home.
Crying, like those tears would bring him home to her again.
Out of the arms of those other women who ‘meant nothing to him’.
She sat in the room staring at the picture of happier times.
“Fuck him” she muttered through the snot dripping from her nose.
She picked herself up and walked to the doorframe.
She slowly placed the noose around her head.
“You were never worth it…..”
Who would have thought a broken heart could be a fatal wound??

Yesterday, while walking home from the bus stop, I bumped into God. I know, your going to say “God!”, but before you do let me tell you that he didn’t even say “excuse me.” Well, here is God walking down the street, not paying attention to anything, in his own little world and, bam, down I go in a heap on the sidewalk. I know, I know, your going to say “But that was God!” Well, I say, the heck with predestination, from now on I go with free will and it should be a week before his shiner goes away.

The difference between a knockout punch and a fatal wound is a proud opponent who doesn’t have the sense to get out of the ring when he’s beat.
It helps if you’ve got a referee who’s trying to keep the fight going for the television network coverage instead of stopping it when over is over.
Coaches factor in, too. Telling your fighter to dehydrate himself to fool the scale ends up leaving him too weak to fight, too weak to fight back.
A whole lot of brain damage.
Kim went fourteen rounds with Mancini and went home in a box.

Thanks to everyone for sending in their stories, and I look forward to what you’ve got to write (and say) next week.
The theme for next week’s Weekly Challenge will be posted shortly.

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Finished

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We went to the hospital to visit Grandma.
She wanted to say goodbye to the kids, so we brought them along.
They were scared at first, but Grandma told them life was a long, marvelous journey. You meet so many amazing people while you take it, and she told the kids they were the two most amazing ones she’d known.
But that journey, as wonderful as it is, doesn’t last forever. When God decides you’ve earned your rest, well, it’s time to stop.
“Then God tells you to shit yourself,” said a guy mopping the hallway.
No, that didn’t help.

Feng Shui

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The news called them diplomats. Let’s not bullshit: they were spies.
Countries like the idea of spies with diplomatic immunity. Rules were meant to be broken, right?
One by one, important men were turning up dead in their embassies.
No bullet-holes. No knives sticking out of them. No poison in their bloodstream.
It was a real mystery.
Until one day, someone noticed that no Chinese “diplomats” had died. And the furniture of each death scene was arranged similarly.
It turns out, there’s a Dark Side of Feng Shui. The proper arrangement of furniture can kill.
Assassination through interior decoration.

Are You Happy?

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There’s a strange machine in the break room.
It’s about six feet tall, shaped like a box. Solid black.
It says “Are you happy?” on it in big white letters.
There’s two buttons on it: YES and NO.
I pushed the YES button and nothing happened.
I pushed the NO button and nothing happened.
Then, I pushed both buttons at the same time.
A drawer popped open, and I took a small yellow pellet out.
Should I swallow it?
I’m not sure. I’ve thought about it, and I can’t decide.
Just like I can’t decide if I’m happy or not.

Kids Are Stupid

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I remember the kids in the schoolyard telling each other that if you toss a penny off of the Empire State Building, it could kill someone.
Kids are stupid.
You’ve got to drop a roll of pennies to take someone out.
I’d repeat the experiment, but I dropped my binoculars, so I can’t see if I’m hitting anyone or not.
Maybe they’ll tell me at the trial. If they take me alive, that is.
Looking down, I think the binoculars killed someone down there, too.
I wish I’d brought a parachute. Jumping from here would be cool.
I’ll jump anyway.

Taps

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It took years of practice, but Softshoe Kelly learned to encode secret messages in his tapdancing.
He started simple, but his skills soon gave him the ability to transmit complex messages without anybody suspecting a thing.
When he was captured by the enemy, they paraded him in front of a global television audience.
Softshoe Kelly performed his act, and cryptology experts determined that he’d been treated miserably but had quite a lot of information on their weak points.
With this information, the enemy was defeated, but Kelly was mortally wounded in the assault.
At his funeral, the military played Taps.

Mommy’s Home

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There’s a small orange fluffy cat curled up by the front door.
Two words. Two simple words can make such a difference.
He wants to hear them so badly.
He’s waiting for hours. Or has it been days?
He can’t remember when he last saw her.
It feels like forever.
He sniffs the carpet.
There’s a sound at the front door. He perks his ears up, listens.
Is it her?
No, it’s not her. Just some noise. Or someone else is home.
He sighs, curls back up, and goes back to sleep.
She’ll be home soon, Frisky. I promise you.

Weekly Challenge #66 – Driving 150MPH

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Welcome to the sixty-sixth 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 selected by Tom from Footnote: Driving 150MPH.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
SOMETHING NEW
Due to popular demand, I am going to include stories that were sent to me, but without a recording. However, since the midget has left for sunny Coral Gables, Florida, those stories will just be posted in the show notes. You’re more than welcome to vote for them, but they will be ineligible for prizes or topic selection.
I feel that this is a fair balance between the podcast and blog natures of this content.
Feel free to share your thoughts on this decision in the comments, and we might possibly come up with an even better and more fair policy for handling these kinds of situations.
VOTING
Go ahead and listen to them by clicking on the grammophone thingy there in the left column and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

LAIEANNA

Bowling night was canceled when Wilma insisted Fred drive her to Stone-Mart for some grocery shopping. That meant traveling across the Gravelway on a busy Saturday. Fred growled his protest, but they eventually piled into the car.
It was as bad as he thought with gridlock and dumb drivers. Fred’s rage peaked. He pumped his legs harder, watching the worm spin on the odometer as he zipped between cars. Wilma screamed. Pebbles cried. Fred was determined.
They got there in record time. Fred smiled at his accomplishment and fell out of the car, dragging his bloody stumps towards the store.

TOM

The last weld to the undercarriage was completed. The seat was encased in the center of the cage and it in turn bolted to a dozen points within the Impala. Four harnesses would be enough he thought
It was hard to maneuver with the reduction gears on the steering column. At 125 the vibration made it hard to see. Passing 150 mph he pressed the ignition to the JATO tube.
The Highway Patrol pulled a left molar from 125 feet up the cliff. We at the Darwin Awards Salute those who improve our gene pool by removing themselves from it

MIKE JAMES

Driving 150, its not really that quick
Honking and swerving are my favorite trick.
Faster is better, thats my way of thinking
Though you cant tell , I haven’t been drinking.
you cant hardly tell,what they yell as I pass
Can’t seem to hear them, through my tinted glass
Don’t these fools know Ive got places to be.
Starbucks, Cell depot and Panera bakery
So sure, my weaving and screeching and swerving,
can seem self righteous and somewhat unnerving.
I do strive for safty, to hit no one at all
But my tires just don’t grip, when inside the mall.

GUY DAVID

Space was heavy with debris. We had to steer carefully. Captain was forced almost to a crawl, 150, no kidding. Me was holding the banister. Good boy I am. Make no trouble. Do what I’m told. Then, red button called, said “push me, push me Moris”, so I pushed. There was a splash, and the spaceship stopped. Captain yelled. I had strange noise in my head, was seeing red, so I zapped him, I zapped them all, then blow a hole in outer shell. Now I alone, no one disturb my peace. How I love peace and quiet of space.

DAPHNE

I finally told him what he wanted to hear. He was so excited he couldn’t breathe at first then said he’d be here in half an hour, after all these years he wasn’t going to wait any longer and the first night of the rest of our lives will start when he knocks on the door. He lives 75 miles away even if he hit the lights and the traffic right, he can’t get here sooner then an hour and half. I have some time to get ready. For him get here in half and hour he would have to be…

BRETT

3 hours. 500 miles. she’s leaving soon. Driving 150MPH. Passing lane. ! No time to swerve. Sorry. Roadkill. Gas station. Fill up; wash tires. $32.02. 1.98 change. Vroom. Seen burning fires, desert, blue clouds, break ups, debris; in brief periods. Airport. Crowds. Parked On Foot. Key in Shoe. Bathroom stall. Palmed key retrieves locker contents. Torn page; Jennifer’s black book. Cell. Driving. Jen: …NO!!!”. Hang up. Map. Arrive. Parallel Park. Fresh Air. Birds. “Hello”. Ran down hall. Locked door. “Knock knock”. My pistol breaks lock. Alexander: “Who?”. I pull hammer back. He escapes. “My hero. I love you, Uncle Unschkidaunt.”

ROCKY

To whom it may concern.
I recently had my wheelchair upgraded by your company.
I did not ask for the turbocharged package, and I refuse to pay for it.
I am by no means a rocket scientist, but I do know that this baby should not be cruising at 150 miles per hour!
Along with downgrading my ride, I will also insist that you replace my soiled underwear!
I would also suggest replacing poor Mrs. Johnson’s cat.
Oh my God! I don’t know if this was some kind of sick joke, but I don’t think it’s funny. I’d kick someone’s ass if I could.
Thank you.
Sincerely,
Stephen Hawking

My name is Hoke. I’ve been hired to drive Miss Daisy around.
She didn’t like me at first, but we’ve grown close over the years.
Every week, she has me drive her to some Jewish church for services. Doing those Jew things.
Well, one time, it took her a little while longer to fix herself up, and we were late.
So, I put the pedal to the metal, and we screamed down the highway, needle throbbing at the 150 mark.
Daisy got to her services, but the cops busted me.
Now I’m spending time with my Cousin Red at Shawshank.

Thanks to everyone for sending in their stories, and I look forward to what you’ve got to write (and say) next week.
The theme for next week’s Weekly Challenge will be posted shortly.

Go to PodcastReady
Sign in with your username and password
Click on Preferences
Scroll down to Promo Code and type in CRAP
Click on the OK button.

Isn’t that simple?

What were the best stories of Weekly Challenge #67?
	Stuart Warf of The Ten Cast
	Tom from Footnote Podcast
	Laieanna of HodgePodge Point
	Sarah
	Guy David from The Sixteenth
	Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club
	JD
	Z

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Who had the best stories in Weekly Challenge #66?
	Laieanna from Hodgepodge Point
	Tom from Footnote Podcast
	Mike of the Mike Thinks Podcast
	Guy David from Guy David dot com
	Daphne from Going Broke
	Brett from Syril Ram
	Rocky Torok
	Z

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