Category: Weekly Challenge

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:

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

MUNSI

Moments
By Christopher Munroe

This has been a moment in 100-word story…

Our moment.

Shimmering and lovely and sad,

Leave the moment, just be glad,

For the story that we had,

Every moment is a moment,

When you’re in a 100-word story!

This is ridiculous, what am I doing here, I’m in the wrong story!

Wait, no, this is my story.

I wrote this story. Nobody wrote it but me, and as such nobody but me will pull it together and make it all make sense.

Because otherwise, it’s all going to slip away from me, and be forgotten.

Moments are fleeting that way…

CHARLIE

He declared it only took a moment. The posture he was forced to take was both uncomfortable and awkward. He was speaking of his morning routine of the cursory, steam cleansing and the application of unguents to his aging and parched spheroids.

He told his breakfast club that it might be the reason he was late, in addition to the traffic in downtown Seattle.

An eccentric, but scholarly man, Mr. LaCrosse spoke freely and without a hint of restraint. Like his new, modern, hero, Donald Trump, he relied on his wealth, education, and position in the community to speak candidly.

JEFFREY

Living in the Moment
by Jeffrey Fischer

Grant was depressed about the future. His shrink told him he shouldn’t obsess about things to come, but to live in the moment and enjoy himself.

Grant started with several shots of bourbon. He felt he needed some stimulation, so he snorted several lines of coke. He swallowed a random handful of pills to see what would happen. What happened was that he felt lust for his next-door neighbor, so they had sex.

When the police examined his body the next morning, they assumed the combination of drugs killed him. And they would have – but Grant’s wife worked faster, stabbing the cheating bastard. Her shrink also told her to live in the moment.

RICHARD

#1 – Horses

I’ve never liked horses, and they don’t particularly like me either: they’ll roll their eyes, do that thing with their upper lip, and – given half a chance – get a swift bite in if they can.

The one and only time I went horse riding was a complete disaster.

They gave me the smallest, most docile animal they had, and I still ended up upside down, underneath its belly, then brutally thrown into a stream when it suddenly decided to bolt.

I still have a reminder of that occasion having on my wall…

It’s the spur of the moment!

#2 – Caught out

“What you thinking?”, said my girlfriend, catching me in the middle of a reverie.

“Erm, nothing much,” I replied, “I was just having a moment”.

“Go on,” she teased, “what’s going on in that head of yours?”

I’d been well and truly caught out. There was no way I could tell her I was imagining what it might be like to bed the hot girl from across the street!

Quickly I countered: “You tell me what you’re thinking first!”

She looked embarrassed; “Umm… Actually, I was imagining a threesome with that hot girl across the street!”

She’s definitely a keeper!

TOM

By Leaf and Bow

Merry and Pippin were in a quite jolly mood having finished the better part of second breakfast. They were engaged in a lively conversation with the youngest of the Ents, a 1000 year old, named Top Heavy. In short order talk wandered off to favorite dish made by their mothers. Top Heavy spoke of a spice moss pudding then turned to the west and fell silent. “I can hardly remember her branches …” “If we return …” “When we return,” corrected Pippin, “we will join the search for the Ent wives.” “Blessing be on you who seek my Mom Ent.”

LIZZIE

The lights by the pink boxes took her back.
It was a rainy day.
She complained that she needed sun, that she absolutely abhorred winter.
He smiled. It wasn’t even winter yet but he knew her well.
He grabbed one of the boxes and said there was something special in it. She played along.
Inside the box, a string of white lights was neatly stored away.
When he plugged them, they flickered happily.
Here’s the sun for you, he said.
The lights stayed on since that day. And the sun was his smile offering her a string of white lights.

SERENDIPITY

They say in that moment before you die, your whole life flashes before your eyes. The problem is, it’s generally over too quickly to savour.

So, consider what I’m about to do, my parting gift to you – no matter what people say, I’m not as callous as they make out.

Yes, you’re about to die, and yes, it will be extraordinarily painful; but, out of the kindness of my heart and the compassion in my soul, I’ll do everything I can to help you enjoy your final moment of recall.

I’m going to kill you… Very, very slowly indeed!

LISA

WATCH
It was always the last thing he did before sleep. Always had been, from boarding school to today at Elms View Retirement Home.

It was usually done in bed, teetering on his left hip (new in 1992)

Watch wound before lights out. Funny how things from youth return to us later. He found comfort ending the day with those five swift twists.

Except tonight.

Arthur’d felt a bit queer and had gone to bed early. Had even missed pudding. (Jam roly poly with custard.)

He thought about the watch, but then lay back on his bed.

Just for a moment.

NORVAL JOE

For a moment Mickey thought it was over.
But as the form of a man, a big man with a pistol in his hand, passed in front of the head lights, he found Ferret had more guts to her than he had given her credit. She gunned the engine and raced passed the gunman.
Three bullets splashed through the side window. Three more shots fired and Mickey hoped they hadn’t hit anyone, or anything important in the van.
“Is anyone hurt?” he asked.
“I’m okay.”
“Me, too,” Cherry said.
Mickey peeked over the bench seat to watch for approaching headlights.

TURA

Moment
———
A man’s pipe-rack is the measure of his character. Established in his private study, this product of solitude springs wholly from his inmost soul.

For every moment, there is the perfect pipe, and for every pipe, the perfect moment to be smoked. Each new thing in one’s life, if lasting, may prompt a new pipe. Thus should a man accumulate a pipe-rack, as he accumulates substance.

On a certain distinguished Lord’s death, his executor, on entering his study, was struck dumb for a space of full three hours in wonderment at the transcendent character revealed by his row of pipes.

PLANET Z

“Do you have a moment?” is how the human resources representative gets you.
It’s never anything good.
“Hey, I baked these cookies, and I know you like peanut butter.”
See? You’d never hear anything like that.
It’s always something bad.
Someone talking shit, or you talking shit and someone reporting you for it.
So, I say “No, I don’t have a moment.” and walk away.
That’s when the emails begin. Followed by chat requests and calendar updates.
“Nope. Sorry. Too busy.”
Then, they show up at my door.
“We need to talk.”
At least now they’re being honest about it.

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:

• Munsi
• William
• Jeffrey
• Charlie
• Richard
• Tom
• Jon De Cles
• Lisa
• Tura
• Serendipity
• Lizzie
• Norval Joe
• Planet Z

MUNSI

Whilst Painting a Fence
By Christopher Munroe

It occurs to me, now that I’m the midst of the project, that painting a fence isn’t nearly as fun as that kid made it sound.

I mean, he made it seem like the best fun a person could ever dream of having, and I’ll admit, by the end of his little speech I was begging to do the job for him…

But now…

Now I’m growing to suspect I may have been had.

Still, I would hate to feel I was missing out…

I’ll finish the fence, and judge the experience as a whole, rather than jumping to conclusions.

WILLIAM

In an alternate universe, Vincent gets to speak with Kee. He presents his case eloquently—the man knows four languages for heaven’s sake! She becomes mesmerized by his vision to become the world’s greatest painter. Doesn’t notice the candle burning low.

Years later, Paul visits the couple from Arles.

“You still on your own in that ugly yellow house?” Vincent asks him.

Paul hangs his head sadly. Glances at Kee in the kitchen. “How did you do it, mon amie? How’d you keep your hand above the flame long enough to convince her?”

Van Gogh winks and whispers, “Fire-resistant paint!”

JEFFREY

Paint the Town Red
by Jeffrey Fischer

My girlfriend told me that tonight we were going to paint the town red. Even though our town is small, I thought that was a dumb idea, but she was hot and her body language suggested a good time afterward. I bought as much red paint as I could find and decided to make a head start without her. The earlier started, the earlier finished. I began with the police station. For some reason, the sheriff wasn’t on board with the plan. Worse, for some reason, my girlfriend was mad at me when she bailed me out. Women!

CHARLIE

I painted my house “opaque couché.* This shit brown, sewage-tinged hue actually has an important function, now that I’m living next door to the biggest choad in town. He stole the vote for the mayor ship in the last election, and he’s a closet hetero-phobic.

I am protesting this man and all he stands for. Every time he sees my house, he will choke back an urge to spew on his cardigan vest.

Next Spring, I am planning to install a small pond in the front yard. Of course the water will be dyed to match.

* Pantone 448 C

RICHARD

Artist?

I’ve never been the artistic type. Give me something practical or scientific, and I’m in my element, but anything that requires an artist’s eye or creative flair, and the results are invariably a complete disaster.

Whether it’s music, sculpture, dance or needlework – the outcome is always the same: I set out enthusiastically and full of hope, only to become disillusioned, angry and bitter. And my hard won creative efforts wouldn’t impress the kindest of critics.

All rubbish.

And as for brush and canvas – frankly, I wouldn’t trust myself to paint a plain wall with a coat of emulsion!

TOM

It’s all in the spin

I have a great fondness for dangling participles. Take this for instants, please. I painted the room with my brother. Later I painted another with my sister. I tried painting the kitchen with the dog, but he wouldn’t fit in the paint can. As a kid a loved the joke from film Mary Poppins. Set up: I knew a man with a wooden leg named Smith. Punch line: What was the name of his other leg? So if you’re free tonight I’d love to paint the living room with you. Or we could just have Donald Trump over for dinner.

JON

Truly Exciting

By

Jon DeCles

They used to say that something really boring was like watching paint dry. Let me tell you, watching paint dry can be very exciting. Suppose its latex paint, and you’ve just coated your prospective sex partner in it, and you can’t get started until the paint dries. That’s very exciting. Or suppose you have an enemy and you have painted that enemy with silver paint, like in a James Bond movie, and you are waiting for your enemy to expire. That’s very exciting.

The best is when your prospective sex partner is also your enemy. Then you can barely wait.

LISA

About me pictures

I’m late to collect and children pass me in the street clutching paintings that drip glitter and feathers.

I see my daughter through the window.
Alone in the playroom.
Back to me.
Head down.

The frowning playleader nods me aside as my heart plummets.

“I’m afraid she hasn’t done an about me picture. She covered her hands in glue first thing and has then spent the morning picking it off.”

My laugh breaks her concentration and she runs over. Smiling. As we walk home her hand is slightly sticky. It tells me more about her than any picture ever could.

TURA

Paint
———
Effective icons must be made with the best materials. Our wooden panels come from crucifixions and gallows. The paints are based on fat from companion animals. (Baby fat is available only to iconomancers able to compel us to provide it.) Our lapis lazuli is mined by slaves that are then buried alive, our gold leaf is beaten out from the jewellery of hanged murderesses, and we obtain cochineal from fire ants bred by the torturers of Hamat Zool. All icons are guaranteed to channel demons from at least the 4th circle of Hell.

At Icons-R-Us, every Friday is Black Friday!

SERENDIPIDY

When my date suggested painting the town red, he had no idea what he was letting himself in for.

His idea of a good time was very different to mine, as he soon found out, but I was in my element, and I was having fun.

I feel bad he’d made the effort to dress up – his suit was pretty much ruined from all the bloodshed, but that’s the price you pay – if you’re going to paint the town red with me, you simply have to accept that everything else is going to end up red as well!

LIZZIE

The agitated middle-aged chubby painter waved his arms while he explained what happened.

“The man said hands in the air. Drop the paint. And when I did, the can exploded. There was paint everywhere. I thought he was going to kill me but I couldn’t quite understand why. It’s not like I’m worth a fortune…”

The cute policeman nodded but the distraught painter suspected he was probably doodling instead of taking notes.

When the officer walked away, nodding, the painter sighed.

“I wish that wasn’t my last can of paint. Police uniforms can be amazing canvases,” he whispered to himself.

NORVAL JOE

Mickey settled down in the seat behind Cherry Cola, watching street signs on the highway fly past in the night. The clock on the dash glowed two thirty A.M.
The van suddenly filled with light as someone behind them flipped on their high beams and didn’t turn them back down until they had shot past. Once in front of the minivan, they jammed on their brakes, forcing Ferret to do the same.
In the van’s headlights, they saw the tailgate of a Chevy pickup with rusted and pealing paint, and a bumper sticker that read, “I don’t brake for nobody”.

PLANET Z

Remember when the coyote would paint the image of a tunnel of a rock, and the road runner would zoom through it?
Where did the coyote get the paint?
Or all the other wacky things he used to try to catch the road runner?
ACME?
Okay, so how did he pay for them?
Where did he get the money? Or the massive credit line to borrow from?
If he could afford all those devices, he could afford to buy food.
Maybe he was a beta tester for all those devices?
And every report the coyote send back was always: FAIL.

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:

• Munsi
• Jeffrey
• Richard
• Lisa
• Tom
• Jon De Cles
• Tura
• Serendipity
• Lizzie
• Norval Joe
• Planet Z

MUNSI

For the Bowie Fans
By Christopher Munroe

People forget that David Bowie’s “Berlin Trilogy” was actually five albums…

Bowie co-wrote/produced “The Idiot” and “Lust for Life” for Iggy Pop in Berlin, after all, and tonally they’re very much in line with Bowie’s own recordings of the time.

You know them, they contain every Iggy Pop song you remember. Lust for Life, The Passenger, Nightclubbing, Funtime, China Girl (which you probably didn’t know was Iggy Pop) they laid out one classic after another, and feature what’s easily Pop’s finest work.

My point? No point really, just pointing out that you really ought to listen to more Iggy Pop…

JEFFREY

Persuasion
by Jeffrey Fischer

You call me an idiot, a moron, an uneducated rube. You tell me that I’m misogynistic, homophobic, transphobic, xenophobic, racist. You decry my “white privilege,” as though individuals think solely along racial lines. You know nothing about me, yet you presume to lecture me on the error of my ways.

Does this seem like a persuasive line of argument to you? I’ll hear this litany of charges and rue my vote, that next time will be different?… I didn’t think so. But go ahead and call me names, if that makes you feel better.

RICHARD

Some sort of idiot

“What are you?”, bellowed Mr Andrews, my chemistry teacher; “Some sort of idiot?”

It’s one of those questions to which there’s no possible answer – if I said ‘yes’, I’d only be confirming his accusations; ‘no’, and I’d only be inviting further ridicule.

I opted for silence, not that it did me any favours, and Andrews’ bullying tactics continued unchallenged.

But that was years ago, and now that I was a government inspector of schools, things had changed, in my favour.

He sat miserably in front of my desk.

“Andrews, your methods stink… What are you? Some sort of idiot!”

LISA

Online struggles….

There was a clue in how I danced in 1984. We missed it.
But now, online.

The CAPTCHA code gets me every time. I see different letters. Numbers. Start adding punctuation. Is it case sensitive?

Just a word with a line through it- honestly it throws me.

Those picture ones…. How many buildings can you see? I don’t know. Is that distant rectangle one? Why is this so hard? I’m not an idiot, I only want to comment on a blog.

The latest one has really got me stumped.

Are you a robot?

I just don’t know how to answer.

JON

Idiot

By Jon DeCles

“Idiot!” David yelled at his brother.

“No, you’re the idiot!” Daniel yelled back.

“I didn’t vote for him!” yelled David.

“Well, you should have,” responded Daniel.

“He’s going to make things a lot better.”

“Better for who?” asked David. “Surely not for us!”

“Better for the whole country. Better for everyone. You’ll see.”

“We’ll be the laughing stock of the whole world,” said David.

“He’s going to make our country great again!” shouted Daniel.

“Our money will be worth something again,

we’ll make our own goods again, our language will be respected again.”

“Idiot! Germany has always been great!”

TOM

sound and fury

I’m a full contact Idiot. An Idiot beyond the limits of the major arcana of the tarot. No matter the scope or precariousness of the position I will excel to galactic level of screw up. The ability to chain the simplest event into a major cluster-fuck is mine alone. I seem to be improving with age. Like an 80 year old fencing master who’s economy of action is distilled into a one fluid attack, my refined unconscious indifference to objects and surrounding turns on a single point. Avert your eyes, stand not to close, for chaos follows in my wake.

TURA

Idiot
———
Once upon a time there were three brothers. Harry, the ordinary one, Garry, the clever one, and Larry, who was so wise that people thought him an idiot.

When a dragon terrorised the village, Harry valiantly went to fight it. The dragon ate him.

Garry dug a clever trap, but the dragon was cleverer, and trapped him.

Larry went and stared the dragon straight in the eyes. So wise was he that he turned into a dragon. The dragon turned back into a man, and Larry ate him.

And if no-one wiser has challenged Larry yet, he’s a dragon still.

SERENDIPITY

I’m not an idiot – I never take chances… Always clean up after myself, always wear gloves, avoid security cameras, plan meticulously, and never underestimate the authorities.

It’s the sloppy ones who get caught: They think the cops are stupid and will never catch up with them. They’re careless, leaving evidence at the crime scene, taking risks and pushing their luck. They deserve to get caught.

Then there’s the complete idiots… The ones who think they’re terribly clever, but then go boasting about their exploits to complete strangers, by posting all about then on the Internet.

Idiots!

Nothing like me!
—

LIZZIE

Millie sat at The Tea Room, a beautiful picturesque café while a friendly waiter served a tea, his belly struggling inside a tight vest.

She watched the couple in the corner whispering, the elderly woman reading a book, the teenager checking his phone.

When the flash mob invaded the café singing The Sound of Music, the couple smiled and the elderly woman clapped enthusiastically.

Millie covered her ears in horror and waved to the waiter for the check.

The Tea Room had just become a nightmare and the resident idiot was still checking his phone, oblivious of everything around him.

NORVAL JOE

“Great. Let’s go,” Mickey said. “Do you have a blanket in the car?”
“No,” Cherry Cola said. “But I have some sweat pants in my backpack.”
They were neon pink with black letters across the butt that said, ‘Dance’. And though they were tight, it was better than sitting in the car, naked.
Ferret started the minivan and headed for the highway.
“I feel like an idiot in these sweat pants,” Mickey said.
“I’m the idiot for helping you get away,” Cherry said.
“We’ll all look like idiots if we get pulled over,” Ferret said. “This is a stolen car.”

PLANET Z

They say that if you cannot forgive someone and forget the past, you are allowing them to live rent-free in your head.
Which is fine by me, because despite the free rent, I charge a fortune for the electric and water.
Oh, and I don’t allow cable or satellite dishes. Or pets.
The schools are lousy in the neighborhood. Lots of crime.
Horrible traffic, lousy cell reception, and no WiFi anywhere.
It’s practically a prison cell, a pit in a dungeon.
No hope of escape at all.
The torment you will suffer in my head is nothing compared to mine.

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:

• Munsi
• Lizzie
• Richard
• Jeffrey
• Serendipity
• Tom
• Jon De Cles
• Tura
• Norval Joe
• Zackmann
• Planet Z

MUNSI

On Romance
By Christopher Munroe

If you love somebody, set them free. If they return to you, your love was meant to be…

If they don’t, set them on fire.

Seriously, burn the motherfucker.

You don’t need that kind of negative energy in your life, after all! You’re a good person, and you deserve love, and if the person you love can’t see that, they don’t deserve you anyway. And, moreover, they don’t deserve to live!

So burn them, it’ll be good for you. It’ll be cathartic. It will give you closure…

Living well is, after all, the best revenge.

And second best is arson…

LIZZIE

“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen! Step right up! Tramps, haters, free thinkers. Everyone is welcome to the Twiddle Zoo, the place to channel your deepest frustrations and experience the catharsis of those gruesome fears, burning you up inside. Step right up! Twiddle your thumbs and wiggle your toes. Sing a song of despair and join the fun. We have scary rides and dark labyrinths. We have sickening beings that will eat you alive. We have hunger and famine and many more exciting events for you. Step right up to the Zoo of Life where no one does anything but be horrified.”

RICHARD

Opposable

The opposable thumb distinguishes man from the rest of the animal kingdom.

Nothing to do with the ability to handle tools – many other animals, even those lacking digits entirely, manage to fashion tools from the environment around them.

What distinguishes man however, is his ability to twiddle those opposable thumbs.

For thumb twiddling is a universally understood sign of intelligence, for it demonstrates that the twiddler is capable of abstract thought.

You may see that glazed look, bored expression and slack jaw replicated by animals in any zoo.

But it’s the twiddlers who are daydreaming impossibilities in their minds.

JEFFREY

At the Zoo
by Jeffrey Fischer

Brian once read that only man had the capacity for hatred. Animals, it seemed, relied on instinct and opportunity but did not hold grudges. They had no capacity for catharsis. Deciding to test that proposition, Brian snuck into the zoo after hours and unlocked all of the cages, then waited until morning.

Sure, some of the animals snacked on their traditional prey overnight, just to keep the hunger at bay, but the real mayhem came when the zookeepers arrived in the morning. The big predators took out one after another. Even the herbivores got into the action. Yeah, Brian concluded, animals do hold grudges.

SERENDIPITY

My catharsis is your terror – you see, I may be the one holding the knife, but it’s your body, and I absolutely insist that you decide which piece I should carve off first.

It’s such a release not to have to make such decisions myself, and although you may find it hard to choose, at least you won’t lose some element of control over your fate.

We don’t have all day though, and the longer you take to decide, the more I want to intervene.

So go ahead and twiddle your thumbs…

Whilst you still have thumbs to twiddle!

TOM

Morning in America

“Mommy I wanta go to the Zoo,” declared Timmy. Mother put down her mixing bowl full of peanut butter goodness. “And what Zoo might that be? The Passive Aggressive Petting Zoo?” Timmy shook his head, no. “The Cognitive Dissonance Institution of Sentient Mammals? “NO,” he replied. “How about the Millennial Zeitgeist Safari?” “Nup, I want to go to the Catharsis Zoo.” “Pretty tall order little man. Remember when we discussed the mythoi- historic relationship of Santa to Black Friday?” “Y e s”

“Ok little trooper lets go check out the Cleveland Indians / Hillary Clinton exhibition.”

“Thanks mom, you’re the greatest.”

JON

It’s Never Too Late

By

Jon DeCles

“I hate to tell you, and you’re free to do whatever you want if it provides you some kind of catharsis, but you can’t escape this zoo that is the human condition. You can never tramp across enough borders to make that itch, that burn, go away. ¾And I don’t intend to stand here and twiddle my thumbs while I see you hurl yourself against another challenge just to prove yourself to yourself!”

“It’s only a couple of extra days out of our vacation, honey.”

“You’re too old to swim the bloody English Channel!”

“Too old?” he responded. “Just watch!”

A Lack of Clear Communication

By

Jon DeCles

“He was a Cathar, Sis,” said Zoot, whittling away at her conviction while they watched the holy man burn. “He believed in two gods, one good, one evil.”

“I cannot hate him just because he tramped in here to preach freedom to channel the divine,” his sister responded.

“He was also an idiot,” Zoot amplified. “He sat there praying, twiddling his fingers, when the church came to seize him.”

“Pretty much just like Jesus did,” his sister said quite passionately. “Oh, Zoo, can’t you see, by that man’s burning light, what we proudly once held to: that catharsis comes free?”

TURA

Zoo – Free – Catharsis
———
At most zoos, the animals are in cages and the people walk around them. I built a zoo the other way round. The animals roam free over the reservation, while the people watch them from inside wire mesh corridors.

By popular demand there are also actual cages that people can pay to be locked inside for 24 or 48 hours. They can’t take anything in with them, not even clothes. It’s surprisingly popular with couples as a honeymoon experience. I’m told it’s quite cathartic, especially since I got a fleet of drones to buzz them in the night with searchlights.

NORVAL JOE

Cherry and Ferret both turned to the sound of his voice.
“What are you doing here? I thought you got away free,” Cherry said.
“I did,” Mickey said. “But, I need your help to get me back to the zoo, where I can hide out for a while.”
Cherry stepped toward him in the dark, “Aren’t you afraid I would burn you again and turn you in for the bounty?”
“I would hate you for that, but I just have to trust you.” Mickey sighed. “You can drive, can’t you Ferret?”
The other girl nodded, taking keys from her pocket.

ZACKMANN

May I stay here a couple days? You see I bought frozen empanadas from the Asian grocery. I put them in the oven then forgot to set a timer so I checked on them since I would have hated to have them burn. I took out my Filipino pot pies just in time. Right after I put them on top of the stove, Poof a million pieces of crust floated all over the kitchen as a bird not seen in zoos flew out calling “tik tik”. After web searching that call, I really don’t want to go home right now.
zackmann

PLANET Z

She rode her bike to the protest, locked it to a parking meter, and found her way to the crowd.
“LOVE TRUMPS HATE!” they shouted.
When the cops arrived, she opened her backpack, pulled out a bottle, and lit the rag.
She tripped on the curb and fell, breaking the other bottles in her pack.
The fire spread quickly over her body, and no matter how much she rolled, it wouldn’t go out.
So many people screaming and running.
She was dead before anyone could put the fire out.
Hand me the bolt cutters,man, and let’s grab this bike.

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:

• Jeffrey
• Norval Joe
• Richard
• Munsi
• Tom
• Serendipity
• Zackmann
• Lizzie
• Tura
• Planet Z

JEFFREY

On Time
by Jeffrey Fischer

He looked at his watch once again. He should have understood: she had never been on time for an event in her life; the more important the event, the later she would be. Before the prom, he made small talk with her father for a half hour. At their wedding, he joked with his best man that she was more than an hour late, so the wedding was off. Dinner parties or nights out were good for a 20-minute wait.

Now he received word that the hearse had broken down on the interstate and it wouldn’t arrive for hours. Yes, she was late to her own funeral.

RICHARD

“Watch out for that second corner, it’s a killer”, my mechanics warned me – unfortunately, I was so busy watching out for the second corner, I spun out, crashed and burned at the first!

I switched jobs – “Watch out for the Area Manager, he’s devious”, my colleagues warned. I did, and failed to spot my own manager’s plans to get me fired for his mistakes!

“Watch out for that guy”, said the tramp at the bus stop, then stole my wallet whilst I was distracted.

You want my advice? Watch out for anyone who tells you to watch out.

MUNSI

Watched
By Christopher Munroe

Ever get the feeling that you’re being watched?

The notion that someone, somewhere, even if you can’t figure out who or where they are, or why they would bother, is keeping tabs on you? The idea that your every move is being tracked?

You aren’t being paranoid, that’s exactly what’s happening. You really are being watched.

It’s you, from the future, remembering the experiences of your past, which you are living in now.

Future You is watching what you do every minute of every day.

You’re being watched via Future You’s memories.

So try not to do anything too embarrassing…

TOM

Nothing New Under the Sun
They came to observe, forever watching without interacting. Epoch to epoch noting every subtle change on this shinny blue rock. The monkey people were no less brutal as the lizard people, or no less invasive as the cellular folk. But when the monkey people started talking the Watchers became the Writers. When the monkey people started writing the Writers went back to being the Watchers. As the waters rose the cellular folk pretty much took out the monkey people. The few who survived stopped writing, then stopped talking. The Watchers didn’t miss the monkey people they had new stuff to watch.

SERENDIPITY

It’s the quiet ones you have to watch.

Don’t worry too much about the ones who shout and scream, make threats and curse. They’re harmless enough, just a lot of noise and bravado. If you stand up to them and show you’re not afraid and they’ll back down soon enough.

But the quiet ones… You never quite know what is going on behind those empty eyes.

These are the plotters and planners; the wicked thinkers and deceivers; the psychopaths, maniacs and serial killers. These are the ones whose silence always masks their true intent.

And I’m the quietest of the lot!

ZACKMANN

I never liked wearing a watch because they would always slip to an uncomfortable place on my wrist when I did manual labor. I tried railroad style watches but the ones I was will to pay for would go into reset mode in my pocket.
After getting smartphones I would check time on them or just check Twitter or Facebook then forget to look at the time.
Recently my wife bought me this steampunk inspired skeleton watch. Now I look at my wrist, think “What cool watch.” then take my smartphone out of my pocket to look at the time.

LIZZIE

Those watchful eyes knew the time had come for things to change. Drowned in doubt, she weighed the terrible consequences. Then she opened the window. It was a bright winter day. The sun was shining. She smiled, packed her bag and looked at the watch he had given her for her birthday. When he beat her up, she used to watch the minutes go by, just passively waiting for him to stop. She used to add them up too. She placed the watch on the table and smashed it. Then, she opened her front door and entered a new life.

NORVAL JOE

Mickey settled down on a tree branch to watch the activities around the hideout and wait for morning. Cherry Cola and Ferret stood by the back of a black minivan, the only vehicle nearby.
.
He couldn’t believe that Cherry Cola had sold him out for a second time. Even more, he couldn’t believe he was going to ask her why she had.
.
He crept through the treetops until he clung to a trunk ten feet behind the two girls. Holding his monkey shorts in his hand, blocked by the trunk, he transformed, and whispered, “Cherry. What are you doing here?”

TURA

Watch
———
Medjool the Watcher stands at the Gate of the World. The centuries crowd there, eager for admittance. But Medjool decides.

In Aegypt, Medjool let a handful of centuries play for three thousand years, then let newer centuries sweep them away. In the Southern Continent, Medjool allowed a single century forty millennia, then banished it to the void.

The centuries come so fast now, that each brings some new wonder into the world. Some say that Medjool no longer stands watch, and the centuries press through the Gate pell-mell. Surely the Fûm is upon us, the chaotic end of all things.

PLANET Z

I challenged myself to watch every episode of The Simpsons television series.
There are a lot of celebrities who are now dead that lent their voices to the series, such as Rodney Dangerfield, Michael Jackson, and George Carlin.
Most of the core cast is still alive, but some performers behind beloved characters aren’t.
Marcia Wallace, who voiced Bart’s teacher, died recently.
And Phil Hartman, who was murdered by his wife, Brynn in a crazy drug-fueled murder-suicide.
Andy Dick was the guy who reintroduced Brynn to cocaine.
Later on, in Season 18, Andy guest-starred.
Sadly, he’s still alive.
That fucking jerk.

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:

• Munsi
• Jeffrey
• Richard
• Lisa
• Tom
• Jon DeCles
• Serendipity
• Lizzie
• Tura
• Norval Joe
• Planet Z

MUNSI

The Reason for the Season
By Christopher Munroe

It’s not about candy.

I’m a grown-assed man, if I want candy I’ll have candy. I have money.

Similarly, it’s not the costumes.

I mean, a little, but not really. I already wear what I like, and I’m unselfconscious enough that what I like gets weird if I want it to.

It’s the sense of community. The fact that, once a year, my local goth bar’s going to be packed. It’s sharing a moment, however briefly, with the world, knowing that today everyone’s on the same page as me.

It’s about other people listening to Oingo Boingo too.

Happy Halloween!

JEFFREY

Lights Out
by Jeffrey Fischer

As soon as the sun falls below the horizon, the ghouls sprout on the sidewalks. At first they come one at a time, wee things in sheets or tiaras and glitter, bags of candy thrust shyly toward the door. Parents offer encouragement from a few feet away. The next wave comprises packs of giggling tweens, more assertive than their younger counterparts but still respectful of the process. The occasional parent loiters in the street, keeping a watchful eye on things.

I try to give the little kids a small scare – creepy music, skeletal hands that give out candy – but when the packs of marauding teenagers arrive, it’s my turn to be scared. I shut off the lights and hide until they’ve all gone home.

RICHARD

Halloween… again

I hate Halloween: All those bratty kids demanding treats, and equally annoying parents encouraging the ungrateful monsters!

Every year it’s the same – I draw the curtains, lock the doors, switch off the lights, and open the whisky.

A prisoner in my own home.

Thank goodness it’s only one night a year – I couldn’t stand any more than that.
At least, when I wake in the morning with a crippling hangover, I can reflect on that.

And then, it’s down to the off-licence for more whisky…

Well, I’ve got to be ready for Christmas, and those damned carol singers!

LISA

Pumpkin
We didn’t have Halloween here when I was young. But now my son wants the house decorating, which I’m fine with, there’s certainly no shortage of cobwebs.

It’s the Pumpkin that stumps me. We look online for tips. He sees the design he likes and I weep inside at the intricate detailing on the devil’s furrowed brow.

So, I start while he’s at school.

And later as he and a pal test the treats they’re impressed with my handiwork. They can’t believe how realistic the blood staining the pumpkin flesh looks whilst both fail to notice my hastily bandaged hand.

TOM

I Want To Be a Hobo This Year.
When your little Halloween participation seems like an infinite given. A life time of going door to door to get free CANDY. How great is America. But in reality you got 7 years tops to cash in. When you reach that threshold you shift into the role of kid sister wrangler. But all that is good for is another four year. Sure handing out candy as an adult derives a curtain adult satisfaction. But does it really fulfil that empty Halloween longing. Sigh. Think I’ll just put a pillowcase over my head and drain this bag of mini three musketeers

JON

The Circus Turns

By Jon DeCles

Halloween. Los Angeles. Skid Row. Look it up, it’s a ‘hood, on the map. The Year of the Creepy Clowns, providing every would-be serial killer a chance to play in disguise. Staggering stoned down the old railroad tracks, a lone goth girl, maybe fourteen, black hair, black lipstick, black lace and leather. Black eye makeup. The clowns close in, a mutiny of them, all kinds of knives at the ready, each wanting to be first. She sees them circling. She pulls out a can opener, sharpened, flips open her straight razor.

“Do I get to cut someone now?” she asks

SERENDIPITY

Wake up, Lucy; wake up, Timmy – it’s time for your special annual outing!

You’ve been such good children this year that you can have all the candy you can collect – just as long as you’re polite and you don’t frighten the neighbours quite as much as last year!

Now, hurry along and get ready, and then as soon as it gets dark you can go outside.

Just remember the Golden Rule…

You must be back by ten o’clock, so I can get you both back down to the cellar before bedtime.

And there you’ll stay until next year!

LIZZIE

“There’s a creepy clown behind you. No one will survive. The clown is lifting his arm. Food, food. He’s hungry for you. Forget the time. The time. The time. Time…”

They looked over their shoulders and couldn’t see any clown but this was to be a “horrifying experience” said the brochure, so they thought it was all part of the show.

Suddenly, the room went dark. A dreadful slashing sound… Peter laughed nervously.

When the lights were back on, he was the only one alive.

The Ouija board slowly wrote “Congratulations. Your ticket had a special prize. Come back soon!”

TURA

Halloween
———
“What’s the scariest thing you can think of?” I said slyly.

“Monsters!” they replied. “Zombies!” “Vampires!”

“Use your imaginations!” I said. “How about poisonous mushrooms, that dissolve your body from within, and you turn into a puddle of green slime! Can you imagine something worse?”

“Caterpillars that burrow into your ears and eat your brains!”

“Giant wasps, like those icknew-whatsits in biology class. They lay their eggs in you and you’re eaten by the wasp maggots and you’re awake the whole time and you can’t move–”

The class had just about frightened themselves to tears. Time to release the tarantulas!
———

PLANET Z

I bought a pumpkin for Halloween, but I never got around to carving it.
So, I pulled out a marker and drew a scary face on the pumpkin.
I admit, that’s lame, but it actually looked kinda cool, even though it didn’t light up or anything.
It wasn’t messy at all, and it kept its shape through October nicely.
After Halloween, I opened up the pumpkin and harvested the pulp to make fresh pumpkin pie.
The seeds, I roasted and salted.
Maybe instead of carving a turkey for Thanksgiving and making a mess, I’ll just draw one on the pan.

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:

• Norval Joe
• Ross
• Munsi
• Lisa
• Richard
• Tom
• Serendipity
• Jon DeCles
• Tura
• Lizzie
• Planet Z

JEFFREY

Week 548 – Express

The passengers boarded the 3:50 headed west and waited for the train to pull out of the station. Then, as always, the train stopped about five miles down the line to allow the 4:00 express train to pass. Couldn’t the railroad just switch the two trains? Everyone who wanted to be home earlier could catch the speedy 3:50, and the cheaper folks could follow behind at 4.

Gutierrez laughed. What was the point of getting home earlier? The guys never showed up at the local until around six, so he made the most of his extra time by studying the ankles of the well-dressed lady one row in front of him.

ROSS

Express Yourself
By Ross Hastings

“Express yourself” quoth Madonna, famously.

Acknowledging the fact that her early material rarely brims with subtext or irony, it seems fair to assume the sincerity of her most earnest encouragement.

The problem is, asking most people to express what they’re really thinking is like like encouraging an alcoholic to drink, or a Japanese businessman to sing “I would walk 500 Miles” by the Proclaimers, or, asking a toddler to shit himself. Their responses, rarely hesitant, will be aggressively enthusiastic, your approval of the results assumed up-front, and your inevitable suffering when they shit themselves socially, publicly and literally, won’t be Madonna’s fault. It will be yours.

MUNSI

Expression
By Christopher Munroe

Don’t go for second best, baby, put your love to the test.

You know you got to make him express how he feels, and baby then you’ll know your love is real.

Express yourself.

Freedom of expression is, after all, constitutionally protected, as noted legal scholar Madonna pointed out.

But, perhaps more importantly, self-expression is a responsibility. As citizens of a free society we’ve a duty to make our voices heard.

I’m expressing myself right now, in fact.

What I’m saying is basicaly nonsense, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that I have the right to say it…

LISA

The end of the world

The white plumed sigh from Platform 3 was almost louder than the announcement.

Cancelled!
A replacement bus service leaving shortly.

But the parents of the girl shivering by the leaf strewn track behind the Industrial estate (just after the turn) got to outlive their daughter. Her life now was hard. But it got much better.

On the bus a couple met for the first time although they lived only streets apart. Shared first this journey then a life full of happiness.

Some did miss the gold of the leaves.
The smell of the coffee.
And were just late for work.

RICHARD

#1 – Agatha

Grandfather was a huge fan of Agatha Christie. He had all of her works, even a couple of first editions. So, when it came to his eightieth birthday, we clubbed together to buy him and grandma a trip on the Orient Express.

It had always been his favourite story, but we had no idea just how he’d taken it to heart.

The first we knew that something was wrong was when he was escorted from the train at the end of the journey by a policeman… Without grandma!

They said she was murdered, but the culprit? That remains a mystery!

#2 – Retirement

My grandfather was a funny chap, when he retired he found it hard to adopt a life of leisure.

He refused to take things easy and whenever something interesting was happening, you’d be sure to find him there, keeping notes, taking photographs and generally being a nosey old bugger!

After he died, we cleared out his house – there were boxes crammed full of the fruits of his labours: Accounts of every noteworthy event in town, births, marriages, deaths and disasters – all meticulously recorded.

We found his business cards – Arthur Sponge – reporter (retired) – ex-press.

#3 – Grandfather

It was my grandfather’s express wish that his ashes be scattered at the peak of Kilimanjaro, upon the last snows of spring, under a full moon.

Needless to say, we had no intention of seeing his wishes fulfilled, until his solicitor advised we wouldn’t see a penny of his fortune unless we complied.

It took months of organising, but finally it happened – exactly as he’d wanted.

The thing is, grandfather was no fan of mountaineering, had no interest in Africa and hated snow… But he loved a practical joke, and I guess he’s laughing fit to burst right now!

TOM

One Glorious Shinning Moment
Jessy and Jacob flew for the Great Eastern Express Corp. The Batloft Express ran relay flyers from Denman on the plains to Cordovetus on the coast. Tandem flying down the central circuit insured that mail would reach its appointed destination. Jessy, the bolder of the team, tended to keep his Batloft closer to the ground for speed advantage. Jacob flew a bit higher which gave him a strategic advance. They averaged 20,000 clicks a trans-cycle, the best frackn relayers on the transvelt. With the completion of the Great Western Clack Corp’s Heliograph Net the Batloft Express faded into history.

SERENDIPITY

I wish you people would get it right, it’s the one thing guaranteed to raise my blood pressure.

The word is ‘espresso’ – got it?

Never ‘expresso’! There’s no such thing… It means nothing and shows you up as an ignorant fool, without whom society would be better off.

In fact, maybe I should do something about that?

Go ahead, order an ‘expresso’, and let’s see what you get… Maybe I’ll lace it with cleaning fluid, add a shot of bleach and a sprinkling of glass splinters.

You won’t notice – you wouldn’t know coffee if you drowned in it!

JON

Closure

By Jon DeCles

What really bothered the genii should not have bothered him. All djinn had been trapped by King Solomon, so his imprisonment was a given. It was the unique nature of the prison that was the problem. Solomon’s most famous geometry was his seal, but he had been imaginative, and long before that latter day saint of topography had given his name to it, Solomon had devised a Klein bottle: in which he had put the genii. As it was inside itself, there could never be a way out. But Solomon had also pioneered building ships in bottles: thus eternal seasickness.

The Fastest Tap in the West

By Jon DeCles

When you dance dressed as a female they call you a pony. Fred learned that watching “A Chorus Line,” and went out and got himself a job. Most of the guys wanted to be Ginger Rogers, so everybody could dance; but Fred wanted to be Ann Miller, who had the fastest foot in Hollywood. He heard that she could unhinge her hip, but without that he still got the 500 taps per minute and that made him a star, even if in a limited niche of theater. He was fondly remembered at his death, aged 90, as ‘The Pony Express.’

TURA

Express
———
Pa didn’t like trains. “Horse and buggy’s all you’ll ever need,” he’d say.

One day, the express train stopped. Even the stopping train didn’t stop there, ‘less you telegraphed a request. It had broken down, and was waiting for another engine to come. So I hitched.

The big city, it’s like, even seeing it, I couldn’t imagine it.

So, I’m just a boy, and I got nothing. I gotta live, so… anyway, weren’t no worse than home.

Eventually I take another train, bigger places. And now here I am, starship captain, boldly going. There’s always a bigger place to go.

LIZZIE

Would you like to offer a special someone a trip to an unknown destiny? We have what you’re looking for. Rates for all budgets. We have a promo with our Express Rate. The ride might not be first class, the company somewhat off but… it’s all part of the adventure, right? We’ll take your special someone to vaguely puzzling yet strangely calming accommodations where he’ll be able to enjoy the serene tranquility of our lodgings, alongside a large crowd of other peaceful campers. Oh, and we’ll even provide a sturdy shovel for the… gardening hours, a highlight of our program.

NORVAL JOE

After warming himself in the blanket, eating the ramin, and drinking the water, Mickey came to his senses. He didn’t know where he was. To find his way home, his best chances lay at the hideout he had just fled.
Finding his way back through the darkness he crouched in the brush, watching people mill about the shack. He couldn’t express his disappointment to find among the criminals both Ferrit and Cherry Cola.
He wanted to run out and confront these girls who he’d thought were his friends.
All he could say was, “Ooooo, oooo.”
He was still a monkey.

PLANET Z

Years ago, the Round Rock Express were founded by Nolan Ryan and his son Reid Ryan.
They were the minor league team of the Houston Astros.
But then Nolan Ryan joined the front office of the Texas Rangers.
The Round Rock Express became the minor league affiliate of the Rangers.
Then, the Astros hired Nolan and Reid Ryan for their front office.
The Express will return to the Astros in two years.
All this time, the Corpus Christi Hooks have been owned by the Ryans, and it’s been an Astros minor league team.
But nobody gives a crap about Double-A.

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:

• Munsi
• Lisa
• Richard
• Tom
• Serendipity
• Lizzie
• Tura
• Norval Joe
• Planet Z

MUNSI

Coping Mechanism
By Christopher Munroe

I’ve been bottling up my emotions, for later sale.

Because, at the end of the day, nobody’s buying actual products anymore. We buy emotional connections, experiences and nostalgia for the emotional connections and experiences of our past.

I’m simply more honest about it than most, selling my own emotions directly to the consumer, no product involved, just raw, unprocessed feeling to enjoy at your leisure.

Which emotions in particular? Depression, mostly, from a lifetime of issues I never managed to resolve.

Which should come as no surprise.

After all, I’ve already admitted that I tend to bottle up my emotions…

LISA

Delivering so much more:

He found her although he lives the other side of town, only comes every other day now. Not many people use him, preferring to pick it up when they shop.

The familiar sounds of his approach. A chink of glass bottles followed a hum of the float. A wet cough from decades of Capstans. He noticed what we didn’t. Monday’s milk still there on her well swept step.

Just doing his job he told us later at her hospital bed.

Hadn’t hesitated.

Elbow shoved the door to find her fallen, bruised and dehydrated still holding the note ‘No milk today.’

RICHARD

Secret of my Success

People used to tell me that if I could bottle the secret of my success, I could make a fortune from selling it.

That was before I made my fortune – oddly enough though, they weren’t far off the mark. It just goes to show that from humble beginnings, with hard work and dedication, and a keen sense of business acumen, anyone can be successful.

Who would ever have thought that Grannie Heinz’s tomato sauce would ever have been marketable? Yet, I saw its potential and bottled the stuff…

And that, in simple terms, is the secret of my success!

TOM

When You’re All Alone

Jack was hitting the bottle pretty hard. Jill had left him for a foreign guy. He was taking it rather badly heading for rock bottom. Benny suggested a 12 step, but Jack just kept throwing down poppers. “She’ll be back,” he sang into his glass. Well you would have thought it quite improbable but Jill after being jilted by that foreign guy showed up on Jack’s doorstep. “Jack can I come in,” she said swinging the door inward. Gingerly she made her way over the drifts of empty bottles to where Jack sat. Sadly the bottle had already taken him.

SERENDIPITY

Just one bottle left now, such a shame. My father’s home made wine wasn’t that bad at all. Sadly, now that he’s gone, this bottle is all I have left of him.

I silently raise a toast to him, before draining the glass.

Later, as I tipped the last few drops into my glass and savoured the end of an era, I pondered on what to try next.

Maybe I should do away with mother too? I’m sure she’d ferment well, and I’d get a good few gallons from her too…

I’m pretty certain she could be a great vintage!

LIZZIE

“And a bottle of wine,” he ordered. “You’ll love it. Super expensive.”
She didn’t drink. He knew it but didn’t care. He went on to talk about his expensive new suit. Didn’t he look smart, he asked, scanning the restaurant for familiar faces.
“This is the best place in town, very hip, super expensive too. Oh, hey, Vincent,” he waved hellos left and right, turning his back to her.
When she walked away, he didn’t even notice it. And now he had that super expensive existence all to his radiant, perfectly pathetic self. And she was free. Wasn’t life grand?

TURA

Bottle
———
I love building ships in bottles. They’re nothing like your great-grandfather’s. I design them on the computer and fabricate them with a 4D printer, with intelligent microrobots to play sailors setting sails and mounting broadsides.

But I shouldn’t have set my two latest bottled galleons side by side. They started fighting, and one day I found the bottles broken and the crews missing. Trouble is, the microbots are powered from the house induction charging loops. The off switch is inside the house. And they can access the machines that make more robots.

Maybe I should just burn the house down.

NORVAL JOE

Dashing among the trees of the hardwood forest, Mickey leapt to the first branch within reach. In no time he was swinging from branches, almost flying across the tops of trees. Finding a comfortable spot, high in a maple, he waited for his former captors to stumble through the underbrush below, search in vain, and return to their hideout.
As the night drew on Mickey knew he needed a warm safe place.
In the nick of time, he found a dilapidated cabin with all the amenities of home; a moldy blanket, a package of ramen, and a bottle of water.

PLANET Z

Why is it that Guinness tastes so much better when you get it on draft at an Irish pub than when you buy it in a bottle at the store or in one of those stupid special cans with the plastic block in it?
Well, instead of carbon dioxide, a proper Guinness tap uses a mix of Nitrogen and carbon dioxide.
Also, the tap is specially-designed for stouts.
Finally, the keg at the bar is probably fresh, while those bottles in the back of your refrigerator have been sitting there for years.
Do you need a ride to the hospital?

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:

• Jeffrey
• Richard
• Lisa
• Tom
• Serendipity
• Lizzie
• Tura
• Norval Joe
• Planet Z

If it’s taking you a little more time to come up with a story or record it, that’s fine. Feel free to send it it when you’re ready, and I’ll put it up on the feed in a separate post.

Until then, here’s a cat:

JEFFREY

Fighting Back
by Jeffrey Fischer

The restaurant was elegant, with white tablecloths, glasses for types of wine I couldn’t guess at, and more silverware than the average newlyweds owned. The waiter asked what I’d like for dinner. “I could murder a ribeye. Rare, with a hard sear on both sides. So rare that a good vet could bring it back.” The waiter nodded and left.

About fifteen minutes later, an irritated-looking cow arrived at my table, one side singed and seared. “I’ve had it with you humans,” she mooed. “This rare enough for you?” She turned to show the sear mark, then threw some papers on my table. “And you’ve been served: attempted bovine-icide. See you in court.”

The Little Things in Life
by Jeffrey Fischer

Never take the little things for granted. That feeling one gets walking out of the house on a crisp Fall day, for instance, or the first taste of a delicious meal. Add to that list the ability to move one’s bowels regularly. After four days, I decided that laxatives were called for. The laxatives were murder on my stomach and did nothing to solve the problem. The doctor dosed me with Milk of Magnesia. Pure agony, but still noth…

Just wait a second. I’ll be back as soon as I’m able. You done with the sports section?

RICHARD

Murder

Family gatherings… Don’t you just love them?

All those special occasions when those relatives you never see – and let’s face it, there are very good reasons you choose not to see them – get together and pretend they like one another.

In reality, of course, rather than the fake plastic smiles, the air kisses and the under enthusiastic hugs, most of the family would rather have brought a hand grenade or attack rifle.

Much as we’d love to, commonsense prevails, and rather than throttle each other, we laugh and smile pleasantly.

So nobody dies, but nevertheless, it’s still murder!

LISA

He raised a gloved hand to his face. There was a glistening sheen to the thin latex. His nose twitched a little as he inhaled deeply.

Smelling her.
Her final throes.

He removed and dropped them into the fire pit. His coat too. And the rest of his clothes. Walked naked to the caravan where the kettle was whistling him over for a wash.

He felt the usual lurch of emptiness as he towelled himself dry and dressed. Nothing left to cling to.

Still.
Onto the next.
He carefully rinsed his potnoodle cup for recycling then began a fresh search.

TOM

The topic is murder

“The topic is murder,” said Moriarty, looking out over the auditorium, filled completely by writers whose work he had edited: and improved. “The question will always be motive, and the problem opportunity. But suppose you had a room full of people, all with equal motive and equal opportunity? Then its courage. The killer must be willing to risk detection and punishment!”

“Suppose they all acted together?” asked a pretty young writer in the front row.

“And how would they do that?” asked Moriarty, taking a drink from the glass on his lectern.

“One drop of poison from each,” she said.

———-

Best served cold
Timmy looks up with that Timmy look, turns and cries “REDRUM.” The bartender chuckles and says, “Loved the movie, what’s the deal kid?” At the end of the bar two guys in trench coats spin and pulled out a pair of uzis. An errant shot brakes the bar mirror into fractured pieces. The mirrored image of Timmy’s cocktail napkin spelled out MURDER in jagged splinters. One of the MOSSAD agent meets Timmy’s eyes. “At last the Black September is over.” Timmy says “REDRUM” “Red rum,” reply the agent and drops a kill card with a large red X on the barkeeps chest.

SERENDIPITY

M is for mother, whom I chopped with a knife

U is for underground, where she ended her life

R for regrets, of which I have none

D is the days that I’ve been on the run

E – it’s so easy to say I’ve done wrong

R is the reasons I’ve harboured so long

Murder is never quite as it seems,
for all my life it’s haunted my dreams.

She hated me since the day I was born,
I was the object of all of her scorn.

The bitch had it coming, right from the start.
And that’s the reason I ripped out her heart.

LIZZIE

“The unicorn police captain was shocked to find that two of his fox deputies were being held hostage. Who has them? Did they ask for a ransom? The werewolf SWAT team was ready. The fairies answered the phones. The goblins were in the way. So, when…”

“Stop right there, Mom. What kind of a story is that?”

“Well, you asked me tell you a story of unicorns and fairies…”

“Yes, but… the fairies answering the phone? Really… Mom? Rewrite it. It’s crap.”

And that’s how the fairies ended up in the SWAT team, preventing the murder of two fox deputies.

TURA

Murder
———
The Black Man was called that because he had the blackest heart there ever was. He lived in a wooden cabin among the marshes, and had built a huge corbel, a dovecote for crows. He kept them starving, and if any traveller came near, he would waylay them and shut them up in the corbel, and that was the end of them.

A tale for children, maybe. But if, in some marshy wilderness, you should come upon a building like a giant, black beehive, get away while you can, lest the Black Man feed you to his murder of crows.

NORVAL JOE

Mickey dashed across the field disturbing a mischief of mice, a scurry of ground squirrels, and a husk of jack rabbits.
He batted through a scourge of mosquitoes and a bite of midges.
In the setting sun, a cloud of bats chased the mosquitoes and midges in pursuit of their dinner.
Reaching the forest edge Mickey roused a murder of crows–though it may have been an unkindness of ravens, or a parliament of rooks–he didn’t get a close look at the black birds.
What Mickey needed was monkeys, but there wasn’t a troop, barrel, carload, cartload or tribe in sight.

PLANET Z

Edna Simmons died giving birth to twin daughters.
Don, her husband, did his level best to raise the girls right and proper.
He wanted to make sure that when they were ready, they’d make good wives.
Just as their mother had been a good wife to him.
But when the subject of their mother’s wedding ring came up, man, those two would fight.
Both got engaged as fast as they could, and hired a hitman to bump off the other sister.
Coincidentally, the same hitman.
He killed the both of them, and their father, pocketed the money, and the ring.

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:

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

JEFFREY

Health Kick
by Jeffrey Fischer

Gary’s doctor gave him a stern look. “You need to lose weight. A LOT of weight. I want you to eat at least one salad a day. Field greens, kale, beets, whatever makes it taste good, but salad. No pizzas, no big ribeye steaks, no grande burritos. Do you understand?”

Gary mentally ticked off the items that his doctor listed. “I hear you, doc. I’ll try,” he said glumly.

The next night he brought home a bag of field greens, a bag of kale, and several beets that he cut up and added to the salad. Then he foraged in his refrigerator. Leftover steak, crumbled nacho chips, a cup of cheese, and a handful of soft candies all went on top, along with a generous dollop of French dressing. He ate the toppings, threw away the greens, and decided that salads were pretty tasty.

Battlefield
by Jeffrey Fischer

The artillery barrage rained down destruction for several hours, explosions killing or maiming anything nearby. When the battlefield was silent again, the two armies advanced toward one another. The inevitable clash occurred and it was a bloodbath on both sides. Men shot one another and, at closer rage, stabbed with bayonets or even knives. After it was over, the dead and dying were so thick on the ground that each side could walk back to its trenches barely touching the bloody earth.

Shawn switched off the television. “Same time tomorrow?” Anthony nodded. Now it was beer o’clock.

RICHARD

The Gospel according to Norman: The parable of the sower

There was a farmer who desired to plant his fields with wheat, and as he sowed some of the seed fell upon the path, some amongst the weeds and some on stony ground.

When it came to the harvest, only the seed which had fallen on good soil had cropped, and the farmer was driven to poverty.

“Good teacher, what are we to learn from this parable”, asked his followers.

“How am I supposed to know”, he replied; “I’m a teacher, not an agricultural specialist! Why is it that you lot always seem to think I have all the answers!”

MUNSI

The Gospel according to Norman: The parable of the sower

There was a farmer who desired to plant his fields with wheat, and as he sowed some of the seed fell upon the path, some amongst the weeds and some on stony ground.

When it came to the harvest, only the seed which had fallen on good soil had cropped, and the farmer was driven to poverty.

“Good teacher, what are we to learn from this parable”, asked his followers.

“How am I supposed to know”, he replied; “I’m a teacher, not an agricultural specialist! Why is it that you lot always seem to think I have all the answers!”

SERENDIPITY

Welcome to the field of human conflict.

It seems a pretty ordinary field, but look closer and amongst the mud and grass and meadow flowers are the reminders of mankind’s harsh manner of reconciling differences.

Here you will find the bones and blood and broken bodies; the last stands and the heroic deeds; here you will find the dead and wounded, the souls who never found peace in their quest to secure peace.

And yet, faced with this carnage, still you wage your wars.

Idiots!

And, if you think that’s fighting talk, I’ll take you on.

Right here, right now!

TOM

Two Early by Half

I have always been amused by St. Martins in the Field. If your tastes in music run towards the classics you have heard of the place intoned by some baritone DJ in the mid Frequency Modulation Spectrum. I picture a guy who should be the first mate in The Rime of the Ancient Mariner conducting a string section knee deep in waves of flowing wheat. In 1542 Henry the eighth less than pleased with a rabble of plague victims trooping through Whitehall built a church literally in the field between Westminster and London. Not a field to be seen today.

LIZZIE

After a day’s work in the fields, Ronnie would say “Turn right”. Mike complied in silence. The path took them back to town. But there was also a path to the left.
“What’s over there?” asked Mike one day, pointing to the left.
Ronnie shrugged.
“Never felt curious?”
Ronnie shook his head.
However, Mike went back to the crossroads and, taking a deep breath, took the path to the left.
He never came back. He went to the big city. He became rich. And he never stopped being curious, especially about all the “paths to the left” he came across.

TURA

Field
———
A gun can fire 20,000 rounds on the range, smooth as hot butter, but the first time in the field it’s nothing but jams and misfires. New designs need field testing, and you don’t get real field stress short of an actual war zone.

So they drop me in with the kit and a mission to kill everyone I see on the way to the pickup point. No leftover ammo unless the equipment fails.

I don’t care where I am or who I’m shooting at. If I asked questions, on my next mission I’d be some other field tester’s target.
———

NORVAL JOE

Mickey paced in his cell, waiting for Dr. West and Salt to return with some shorts, and wondered how he might escape. Eventually, he lay on the cot, his back toward the cell door, and it came to him.
“We brought your fuzzy chonies,” Salt laughed.
Mickey didn’t move.
“Monkey boy. Here’s your underwear,” Salt said.
Mickey snored.
“Wake up you stupid kid.” Salt opened the door and stomping to the cot.
A flash, and Mickey in monkey form shot past Salt, grabbing the shorts and dashed toward the exit.
Outside, he raced across an open field to a forest.

PLANET Z

I bought an ultra-high definition television, and when you watch baseball, you can see the individual blades of grass out in center field.
You can also see the bulge that the envelope full of cash makes in the umpire’s back pocket.
And the needle marks from the batter’s recent injection of human growth hormone.
Not to mention the Vaseline that the pitcher smeared on the ball, the flecks of cocaine under the nose of the first baseman, and the guy in the stands relaying signs to the batter.
The picture is so real, even though the game’s fake as hell.