Weekly Challenge – Page 96 – The 100 Word Stories Podcast

Weekly Challenge #105 – Taboo

14723849

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And 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 selected by Evamoon, who is going for broke with…
It’s Taboo.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

CALEB

Alright fellas, listen up! This bread is my body. And this grape jelly, this is my blood; my sweet, congealed blood. And this peanut butter is my uh” my holy spirit? Put them all together like so and”
mmmm” I am DELICIOUS!
Wow, you have got to try this!
“but uh Jesus, we can”t have bread right now, it”s Passover!”
Oh come on, that old taboo? Don”t be so superstitious, Pete.
“But Jesus, won”t your father smite us?”
It”s the holidays, I got my boys right here, I”ve got this awesome sandwich, what could go wrong?
“Praetorian Guard! Open up!”

ALMO

Traffic on the beltway was a maze stuffed with hundreds of rats. The civic cut me off to move three car-lengths. When I got beside him, I flipped him the bird and felt better.
The bar was hot and crowded. They guy next to me elbowed my beer, sloshing it on my shirt. “Asshole,” I said. I felt better.
The convenience store line crawled. The kid in front of me was turning out his pants pockets looking for change. “C’mon,” I said, finally exasperated. “You’re holding everyone up.”
I felt better. Then he turned around and shot me.

GUY DAVID

Here at Taboo unlimited, we concentrate on creating the most modern and up to date taboos, ranging from technology driven superstitions to new age health food misconceptions. Right now, we are working on a very special set of taboos, ordered especially by a wealthy martian tycoon. We use the latest technology to create this taboo that makes people think robots are immoral and deplorable. It’s amazing what you could do using social networking and other web 2.0 techniques. It works like clockwork, only, we just discovered clockworks are the weapon of robots. I think we might be done for it.

TOM

Maria set the easy bake in front of the steamer truck. Allan opened the lid to reveal wafer upon wafer of titanium conductors. “Here”s the deal Mave we will bleed the time goo you got in that tin into the Hub and up to the topside. It”ll take about 35 years. According to the Book it”s got a steep draw back, major fertility drop.” “What”s this going to cost Allan?” ask the wearier time travel. “Inter family mating.” Cervantes Victorian sensible heaved at the breach in taboo. “In fact you might want to leave a little something before you go.”

TERRY TEE

Launch Director Haroldson pushed his secretary’s slim body off his, wrapped a towel around himself, while turning up the sound on the TV. He heard the announcer speak of substandard workmanship and materials as being the main causes to the Phoenix’s demise. All of which, where traced back to the Chinese manufacturing plants that had won the rights to building the spacecraft’s landing module.
Well, that was nothing new, he thought, but as everyone knew, the current administration had made it taboo to criticize the Chinese in order to gain their support and their money for the mission to Mars.

EVAMOON

“I thought they”d be round, like apples!”
“Better than apples,” came a languid reply from the branches.
She peered into the dense foliage of the tree, trying to make out the
sinuous form hidden in the shadows. The branches were heavy with ripe fruit.
Her hand barely reached around the long, fleshy cylinder as she plucked it.
Its bulbous end released an unfamiliar aroma that filled her head.
“Would you like to know how to properly enjoy the fruit of this tree?”
She hesitated for a moment, but her appetite was stirred.
“I really shouldn”t.”
The long body uncoiled and rose. “It will be our little secret.”

PLANET X

As he paced along the HMS Resolution deck, Captain Cook stared at his first officer and shouted, “It’s tapu to eat that damn fruit?”
“No sir”, Lieutenant Clerke responded, “The chief said it was taboo or forbidden to eat the fruit from the sacred tree”
“Taboo or not, that fruit is essential to preventing scurvy amongst the crew, why look at Old Murduck Mahoney on the last voyage” Cook replied.
“Sir, the chief said, no one was to eat that fruit, and sir, they don’t have the taboo of making a sandwich out of me or you” Lieutenant Clerke replied.

John 316 steps into the corridor.
Behind him the hatch, with a quite click, slides closed.
His calloused feet absorb the cold of the steel deck as he shivers in the darkness, eyes adjusting.
To his left and right pitch black meet his searching gaze.
Before him, illuminated by the dull red glow of a bulb in the overhead, a ladder stretches upward into darkness.
The boys, his brothers, in cratch 17-C-34 had taunted him because of his frailty.
They had always forced him to their will.
Now they had dared him.
He had broken the first taboo.

CRAIG

Ellen glided through the patio door without a sound till she was almost touching me.
Placing her hand on my shoulder she turned me to gaze deeply into her eyes, her hands then grabbed my collar pulling me closer.
With her silken honey voice Ellen said “engage me”.
Normally I reveled in her little challenges, I mean what else could create such delightful friction in my life.
This time however I was unnerved even a bit frightened as I sank deeper into her her eyes.
Ellen repeated “engage me” her words invited me on a road I knew was Taboo

THOMAS

” A screamer, she had to be a screamer”, John thought, looking at his new bride. Providence gave him her so he could bless her and she him. He believed this marriage was ordained of God, but she didn’t seem to . Only eleven she’s a woman sooner than his other wives, however youth was no excuse to resist.
The Prophets knew. He knew. Soon she too would know the truth, submitting to him as unto God.
She sobbed as he wiped the blood from her mouth, gave her a long kiss, then forced himself onto her, eager for the next lesson.

STEVEN

Samantha always knew the exact location of the door. She knew the
ways to exit any room. She knew when to run, when to hide, when to
agree, when to be silent. These lessons were her mother’s gifts.
His rampages were a time for silence.
She did not flinch as bits of smashed vase skittered across the
kitchen floor. The vase was her mother’s. A shard came to rest
against her toe.
She looked up at him, angry in the kitchen doorway.
Samantha always knew the exact location of the door.
She also knew the exact location of the icepick.

DAPHNE

Thing that are taboo down here aren’t on the surface and some the things that were taboo up there… well no one really cares about anymore. You just need to learn how things are different and respect the society we have going here. Most of our taboos are about personal space and privacy. We welcome all new comers, we are very happy you made it here safely. Just treat ever living creature down here with respect and you will fit in okay. And I mean every living creature… do you get that? Yes, even the rats and mice.

ANIMA

Crudites. Chateaubriand. Cheesecake
Sumptuous meals are her waking thoughts. Savory dishes she would eat, once she could fit into her wedding dress. It would mean so much to mother.
Mum was aghast when Sandy ballooned to a size 6. All those summers at fat camp, for naught. Never mind that Chick Corea could trade licks with Gary Burton on her ribcage. Or that she broke her ankle slipping thru the sewer grate.
Sandy pulls her feeding tube to go puke again. She’d look good in that Vera Wang confection, even if it kills her.
Only 5 more pounds”

LAIEANNA

Big city, little light, and a whole lot of people moving around.
Momma squeezed my hand tight as she dragged me through the crowds. We
raced past drunks and browsers, and pushed through groups watching
street entertainers. The best attracted the most, only having to
compete with the shocking. Like Naked Art, a group of unclothed men
and women who did things to each other right on the street. All the
appalled people couldn’t stop watching. Momma whisked me away as fast
as we had come to them, but I promised myself one day I would come
back for more.

MIKE A

“…and so, Jarrod Rasmun, by reason of your repeated
and willful violations of our people’s strongest
taboo,
this council finds you guilty of violating the honor
of our village. The ancient penalty for this crime is
– death.”
“Most High Chief, I respectfully submit myself,” and
here Rasmun motioned to a nearby slave, “represented
by…”
“Not this time, Mr. Rasmun,” the elder interrupted.
“Your contempt for our laws and customs is clear.
Your
previous transgressions have cost five men an eye and
a hand each; it is they, who will carry out your
sentence.
You see – matters of honor are always personal.”

SOUGENT

Body parts lay scattered around him.
Zombies are tough customers all right, they keep coming even when all that’s left of them are pieces.
With a crunch, he stomped on a disembodied hand that was attempting to climb up his pant leg.
What a mess. At least he didn’t have to worry about the locals making a fuss, zombies were taboo in this neck of the woods, there would be nothing said and shortly after sunrise there wouldn’t be any sign of this conflict, the locals would see to that.
He’d sent a pointed message tonight, but would anyone listen?

PLANET Z

It’s game night tonight, but we can’t decide on a game.
I want to play Monopoly. But nobody ever lets me be the banker.
My wife’s got great eye-hand coordination, so Jenga’s her choice.
Bobby knows all sorts of useless trivia, so Trivial Pursuit’s his game.
And Little Suzie, well, she’s only six, but what a mouth she has on her! I don’t know where she learned all she knows for playing Taboo, but she hasn’t lost a match yet.
This is how fights start.
I guess I’d better fill up the pitcher and get out the quarters again.

Weekly Challenge #104 – Zombies

17325944

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Four, 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 , who is going for broke with…
It’s Zombies.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

TOM M

The great leviathan with her, barnacle encrusted, titanium platinum alloy hull, lurked beneath her prey. For centuries automated systems kept the great beast functional. Her crew long dead.
Mindless, Soulless, and without remorse, the powerful zombie of the deep, targeted the yacht. The yacht shuddered a second, as steam and light came from below and tore it asunder. Debris drifted around it, as the hulking monster receded back to the deep to recharge.
The search continues but the warm Caribbean waters had claimed another victim. Meanwhile in the inky depths of the ocean an ancient terror recharges, repairs and waits.

MIKE A

I was really starting to hate autumn. The reddish
leaves were pretty, but since I usually saw them
only at night, I preferred them brown; it made it less
difficult to move unseen through the woods.
No, the problem was this: autumn always saw a major
increase in the number of zombies, almost like
some bizarre perversion of Spring. I almost have to
double the number of traps, which cuts into my
sleeping time. Unfortunately, you can’t cut into the
‘reproduction cycle’ by just eating them. Some
of my fellow werewolves had tried, and no good had
come of it.

JOEL H

Slow, shiftless, lifeless meat sacs roaming aimlessly without a purpose. One is young, thin and never stops smiling.
The other is old, brittle and cannot move without pain. The third is flawless even in his current state; the envy of the others.
The fourth, once a big hero in Houston is now a lifeless corpse floating in the Hudson. The fifth, a man once so strong he could move mountains, i
s tired at the thought of merely eating brains. You look at these men, defeated, dead and without a purpose and you must ask yourself”
what happened to the Mets’ offense?

HOTSPUR O’TOOLE

Phosphorous, the old man said. Their bodies generate phosphorous when they have finally collapse from hunger. I don”t care. They have always resembled giant glowing mushrooms at night. Cleanup duty isn”t too awful, once you get past the stench. Kind of peaceful. I just keep my bandana tied tight under my nose and wear my steel toed boots, in case of wrigglers with intact jaws. Tonight was a surprise. Old Mrs.Garrigus, the den mother. I remembered. She had turned in the middle of a pack meeting. “Ain”t that a kick in the head”, I mused, reaching for my axe handle.

GUY DAVID

I was just about to wrap up things at the office, when Barney went by me running and chased by a zombie. Now, it’s not everyday you see your coworker being chased by a zombie around the office, so this aroused my curiosity. Now ” where did this zombie come from, who bit who? Was this zombie bitten by his girlfriend in the middle of some steamy sex? Ooh, think what a damper this could put on his sex life. Maybe he was bitten by a salesman. Now ” this would definitely kill his insurance deal. That’s what I call sloppy salesmanship.

STEVEN THE NUCLEAR MAN

Hush. Do not say another word.
You stand out. You are not dressed like them – no suit, no power tie, no
flag pin. They swarm downtown during the day. Nighttime is safer; they
shelter in their homes.
I can pass among them. I can rattle off last week’s scores and the
contestants on the reality TV shows. You have to talk in soundbites, not
analysis. Are you stupid? They will eat your brain if they notice you.
Damn. My co-workers. Follow my lead.
Bobby! Yeah, shame about last night. We were just talking about who got
voted off, right?
Right?

CALEB BULLEN

In Haiti, zombies don”t eat yer brain like in de movies. In Haiti, de zombies are real. In de old time dey used to work as servants or mebbe in de plantation. Now most zombies sit in de cubicle writing SPAM or tech support. I got one zombie he do me taxes, another designed me website, “voodoo warrior dot com”.
Course we keep our zombies docile by filling dem with drugs and mind numbing messages so dey work and work without tryin improve dere situation. How you keep yer zombies workin? Budwieser? McDonalds? Lindsey Lohan as News? Just Like Haiti!

TERRY TEE

Bizroc and his wife walked along the tunnel with the satisfaction of full stomachs for the first time in many months. Like every worship day, they had joined their neighbors, marching like zombies, silently down the tunnel toward the worship hall.
They continued to march, getting closer to the meeting hall, becoming increasingly aware that something was different today.
Maybe different wasn’t the correct word, they were in for something special, special and profound, from the sounds of the choir.
Bizroc wondered if it pertained to the earthling, as he and his wife had found so sweet and delicious.

DAPHNE

I went to the surface today. We needed supplies. It was night and I stayed in the shadows but I watched out for the ‘Zombies’. They aren’t really Zombies, not the walking undead, but more like humans who after it happened… well they kind of died inside. If you looked at their eyes, there is nothing there, just a vacant stare. But never look at them, if you ever see one, hide. Find a dark corner, alley, open manhole, some place dark and stay there being very quiet and very still. Be very careful, you don’t want to be caught.

PLANET XRAY

I lie awake at night thinking of love I have lost because of what I didn’t say.
My first love came early in life, Pamela, and at a time when we could be carefree, with the whole world out there.
We would spend afternoons on those cold, winter days, next to the fireplace listening to our LPs.
We would have them all stacked up on the stereo spindle ready to go, The Beatles, Turtles, and our favorite, The Zombies.
The rhythm of our love keeping beat to the Zombies’ music.
Now all lost, because I didn’t say,
I Love You

ELISSON

When he first awakened in the grotto”s gloom, a spasm of pain in his side jolted him to his feet. That was when he realized how desperately hungry he was.
Where was he, anyway? All he could remember was being lifted high, being stabbed in the side, the taunting voices. His hands and ankles ached; in his mouth was a lingering taste of vinegar.
Standing up, he could barely see the rock blocking the exit. Ignoring the agony in his feet, he pushed it aside.
Out in the desert sun, all he could think was: I”m famished. “Bra-a-a-ains…” he moaned.

ANIMA

Zoe has slipped from the realm of the living.
Once, she was a caring, vibrant woman who volunteered at the shelter .Now she worries if she can get a manicure Tuesday.
Maury Povich is her bokor. Hooked on “Hard Copy” and “A Current Affair”, Zoe has lost her consciousness. She is a Psychological Zombie.
But I can’t let her go..
I know I can help. Given a strong enough emotional connection to the mortal world, zombies can break the trance. Kidnapping Zoe’s parents wasn’t enough. This time, I’ll take drastic measures on her lapdog.
Eventually, I will succeed.

TOM

Vapors squeezed from the steamer truck gather about Quatermain”s moustache. Cervantes noted Allan looked older as if something was finally wearing him down.
“What happening here?” asked Arnesto.
“You dear Cervantes. Your little journey through time has had dire effects. When you bleed time the body caporial loses blood to the brain. So many of our best and brightest have succumb so many Time Zombies.”
“Zombies ” that”s why life is in the sewers.”
“Yes it something about higher levels of moisture. It”s a bloody miracle the nightingale got you to the Hub.”
“The easy bake is our only hope.”

HEDGIE

Ever since I became a zombie people have been saying to me “Bob, you’re acting really weird”. Sure, I enjoy the taste of brains now and then. And yeah, I’m technically dead but really I’m just a monster. Honestly though, I’m still a regular guy. My friends and I just saw a movie at the mall. We’re all getting a little hungry though. Hey there’s Tom! We used to work together. I think I’ll go over and say hello. Maybe see if he would join us for a bite to eat.

Of a morning one of them comes into my room and hands me the Clozapine in a small paper cup.
At noon they call me to lunch where they hand me the Risperidone, also in a small paper cup.
In the evening, when the darkness returns, they give me a new paper cup with new pills inside.
They will not tell me what the red and blue pills are.
Sometimes they don’t catch me when I hid the pills under my tongue.
Later, in the early hours of morning, I cry.
Zombies can’t cry, or laugh, or smile, or feel.

LAIEANNA

Civilization was wrong. The zombies aren’t mindless. They just had a
change in taste, and I agree with them. A good chef doesn’t pass up
any unusual or exotic ingredients for their dishes. When the world
was handed to the zombies, I was ready to serve them with heavenly
meals. My restaurant is perfect with a basement kitchen and closed in
steel serving area. Getting past the diners for groceries and fresh
meat is the hardest part. That’s why I always welcome survivors to my
sanctuary. Never keep your customers waiting for long by keeping a
good stock of food.

TERRENCE

Raoul watched as the zombies crested the hill in the distance headed in his direction. At first the group was small, but more continued to pour over the hill. Now off to his right a hand reached up and then soon a human figure dragged itself from the ground.
The zombie looked at Raoul, it’s jaw hanging from a few strands on flesh. Its right hand nothing but bone and a large hole in its chest through which you could see its slow beating heart and the small witherhunch. The good book never described resurrection of the dead like this.

SOUGENT

As he waited, the sweat trickled down his back, the humidity of this “tropical paradise” closed in around him like a soggy blanket. In the darkness, a cacophony of noise burst forth from the jungle, but that would all change when “they” came, the living did not take kindly to the creatures he was waiting for. The cessation of noise would be his first sign that the zombies had risen from their earthen abodes and were on the hunt. Their task for the night? To kill him.
But he was ready for them, tonight the hunted would become the hunter.

PLANET Z

We’re in here. Zombies are out there.
I’d like to keep it that way.
Not Duffy. Every night, he sees his wife on the monitors.
“You’ve gotta let me save her!” he says.
No. Even if he finds her, there’s no cure.
“I don’t care,” he says. “I made a vow. I’m going out there .”
There’s a difference between In Sickness And In Health and Till Death Do Us Part.
Guilt drives people like Duffy mad.
You see, those cameras were disconnected weeks ago.
Which is a good thing, because I didn’t have to see Duffy swarmed, taken down, screaming.

Weekly Challenge #103 – Steamer Trunk

14393913

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Three, 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 Daphne Abernathy, who is going for broke with…
It’s Steamer Trunk.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

STEVEN
(The background sounds were from Metamorphmuses at the Freesound Project. )

“Are we supposed to be up here?”
The third attic stair squeaked before I answered my sister’s whine.
“Mom is gone for the afternoon. I am bored and in charge until they get
back. So yes.”
The attic was full of Grandmother’s old stuff. Here there was a stack of
yellowing magazines, there were some musty papers and old books. Under it
all was the prize: Her old steamer trunk, blackened with age and oil.
“Bobby, I heard Grandma was a witch.”
Pandora Spyros, Grandma’s name, was written just above the latch. I ignored
my sister and opened Grandmother’s box.

TOM

The horizon of London was as still as death. Maria and Cervantes moved passed Bishopsgate. They were play connect the dot using the ever iconic nightingales, beck left, beck right. “I think were here.” Said Maria. Beck down. They pried the manhole cover and started down the vertical stairs. At the bottom of the shaft two shadows took form and demanded a password.
Cervantes replied, ” pierce the hallow of thee ear.” The men grunt and led them down the sewers. After an hour the quartet was standing in front of Quatermain his foot resting on a venting steamer trunk.

DAPHNE

We don’t have many luxuries down here. The dampness destroys most things. Leave a book out too long, the pages become swollen and warped. Photos stick together. Clothes get musty and moldy. I’m lucky, I thought ahead. I pack my few treasured belongings into an old steamer trunk. It was designed to keep out the moisture. I have a few photo albums, some favorite books, extra clothes and a music box. I can’t play it as often as I’d like, it would draw attention from above, but when I feel brave I wind it up and let it play.

TERRY

Bizroc happily scurried into the kitchen, amazed at the good luck of his hunting mere minutes ago.
The earthling had been so easily confused; Bizroc had hardly appeared when the earthling froze in his tracks, unable to move.
Then, it had been so easy, no thick armored skin like any of the local animals, one swipe of his fangs and he had enough meat for both him and his wife.
While he thought of his good luck, Bizroc put the large chuck of meat into the Steamer Trunk to let it hydrate and cook, they would be eating good tonight.

GUY

It looked like an old treasure chest. As we entered the attic, the old steamer truck grandma hidden away glowed slightly. “We shouldn’t be here” said Judy, “What if your grandma comes back? I’m afraid of what she would do”. “Oh, relax”, I said, “She’s hanging around with that Lony. They won’t be here for a while”.
As we approached the old chest, I noticed the box had what looked like a face, and it was smiling slightly.
Suddenly, we heard the door opening, and my grandma was standing there, then she smiled slightly and turned Judy to a frog.

The auction was at the old warehouse at the end of Cunard Rd.
I had read in the paper that there would be many unopened bags and trunks.
I stood with my bid stick and watch as small leather bags and large suitcases were sold.
I bid and was out bid throughout the day.
Near the end only a few people remained when the Steamer Trunk was wheeled out.
Old and beaten the trunk called to me.
I bid and won.
It smelled of mold and mildew.
On the tag handwritten in fading ink were the words.
Southampton, England, Titanic.

PLANET XRAY

Jack opened the Steamer Trunk, quickly stuffing the Nightingale Sister’s limp, lifeless bodies inside. Throwing in the red rose, he lost sight of the petals against the blood soaked dresses. Using rags, he wiped up the rest of the blood and tossed them inside also, locking the Trunk.
His hobby so easy; there were so many young ladies who believed that young men wanted nothing more than to be in their company and spend money.
Dragging the trunk slowly down the stairs, he opened the door and tossed the trunk into the underground river, to a life in the sewers.

SOUGENT

The plan was foolproof, its execution was perfect, nothing could possibly go wrong.
The steamer trunk was ready, large enough you could stuff a body into it.
It wasn’t much of a struggle in the end, shortly after the cake was delivered, the coup de gr”ce was also.
It was quite absurd, really, to believe he would be much of a challenge.
He reached up and brushed some cake crumbs from his lapel, shook his head sadly and closed the lid of the steamer trunk which now contained a jumble of parts, the remains of one slightly ambitious robotic butler.

EVAMOON

Alma shut the lid and punched in her code. Again. When she opened the box,
it was still empty. Damn infomercials! It was supposed to be the best new
thing to solve household storage problems. Using the new transdimensional
gateway technology, you could fit all your stuff in a box about the size of
a steamer trunk. All coded for instant retrieval. Except now it wasn”t
giving anything back. Anything that went in was just gone. And the tech
support lines were disconnected.
Alma stood, dusted her hands, and called to discontinue her garbage
collection service.

CRAIG

Her thoughts got lost in the the neighborhood as she walked.
Lead paint pealing, washing into the gutters mixing with fluids from obnoxious realms, flowing into their taps.
Yellow and gray floating in and out of apt windows, children”s lungs tattooed with rust.
Sally pushed through the fear, sweat beading like pearls on spandex.
Hurried little laughs echoed from doorways.
Inching her stilettos over the smooth cobblestones Sally felt people watching her, following her.
Opening the door to her grandfathers old factory. Holding her breath unlocking the steamer trunk, reaching inside with one quick motion, pulling out her Teddy Bear.

ANIMA

The dapper secret agent stands up in front of the large steamer trunk. Quick footsteps are heard receding in the tunnel below.
“Artie, I have to go after Loveless””
“If you don’t stop him Jim, he will use the Ultrasonic Reverberator to destroy the railroad trestle. The President and all the European ambassadors will die!”
“Train of fools”” mutters Jim.
Jim stomps his boots; knives shoot from the toes. He lowers himself into the trunk, front-pointing into the mine shaft.
“And Artie, could you change into the strumpet outfit” that green dress does bring out your eyes…

TERRENCE

Dropping the dead bird it landed with a thud next to the old wooden box. Raoul gave the box a kick. It started to click and shake. Raoul watched as it got louder and louder until it climaxed with a short quiet pop.
The bird slowly stood and looked up at him. Raoul punted the bird across the field out of sight. He couldn’t believe that people all over the world searched for the box. Sure it had it’s uses, but it wasn’t like they would ever believe that this ragged looking steam trunk was the Ark of the Covenant.

PLANET Z

The Blue Fairy gave Pinocchio the gift of life, but with life, comes the curse of pain and death.
Gepetto warned Pinocchio that life was a lot more dangerous for a real boy than a little wooden puppet.
Pinocchio laughed. “I’m not made of wood, Papa,” he said. “If I put my arm in a fire…”
To this day, as he looks down at the trembling child, cowering inside of a steamer trunk and begging for the lid to be brought down again, shutting out the horrors of the outside world, Gepetto regrets ever having carved that block of wood.

Weekly Challenge #102 – Nightingale

12061068

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Two, 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 Steven the Nuclear Man.
It’s Nightingale.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

DAPHNE

We don’t hear many birds down here but we can hear the nightingales. Their song comes through the sewer grates and is the only music we have. The children can whistle their tune. Lovers dance to the sound. It is something that reminds us of life on the surface, before it happened. When the nightingales stop singing we begin to worry. Did something frightened them away? Was it a cat? A larger bird? Or worse. We hold our breaths, keep silent and wait…

STEVEN

Cherry blossoms perfume the air, decorating it with the fall of their
petals. I stand before her, my katana soiled with the blood of her
enemies. Her rescued family is my wedding offering.
I have read the tales of heroes. I fashioned my armor, my habits, my
life in imitation of them. I completed their trials, their feats. I
am the greatest of them.
I smile at her. I have read the tales of heroes, and I know how this will end.
She turns, walking away under the cherry blossoms.
As in all the tales of heroes, a nightingale sings.

TOM

Arnesto was tempted to open the book, but he wasn”t ready for that level of Pandoraic possibility. Maria had no qualms about messing with the timeline.
“Look, It has your name on the inside cover.”
Cervantes took a timid peek. Zounds. The author was Arnesto Arroway. Maria”s laughter echoed down the empty halls.
“Looks like I”m a great grand ma. It”s kind of comforting.”
“No it makes me dizzy.” Growled Arnesto closing the cover without read any of the passages.
“What”s this?” said Maria pointing on the writing on the wall.
“Its Quatermain”s nightingale!” Life in the sewers indeed Allan.

TERRY

Josh ran into the ship’s med section, using the last of his strength, he pressed his hand against the biometric scanner, the hatch opened.
He quickly climbed into the Nightingale, Mk IV., careful not to shift the cloth that kept the blood from gushing out of his leg.
It was foresight that Space Command included the automated med machine, without it he would be dead.
It would take the Nightingale at least two weeks to regenerate the large chuck of flesh that was missing. Then he would take care of that little red beast that had tried to eat him.

ANIMA

Le Rossignol was the best of the cat burglars. He could be in and out of a building in seconds, never setting off an alarm. He never did it for monetary gain. No, it was always for singing.
He’d intone Gregorian chants in marble bathrooms, and trill arias on grand staircases. Once, he even broke into Cathedrale Notre-Dame to sing Mozart’s Requiem by himself.
However, Rossi lost an early morning challenge to Le Coq, who thought the Eiffel Tower should be his personal roost.
Shamed, he jumped the Big Pond.
Americanized, “The Nightingale” now busks in Grand Central Station.

GUY DAVID

The record was spinning endlessly, caught in the groove. It was obvious she wasn’t coming. He just set there feeling like a fool. A sudden wave of anger swept over him. He was getting used to this, it has happened too many times. He got up swiftly, half knocking down his chair. He opened the door and left, slamming it behind him. He wasn’t going to wait any longer. Behind him, the chair fell over the table that held the old fashioned gramophone, and the stylus jumped over. The voice of Julee Cruise singing The Nightingale filled the room again.

CRAIG

Some years ago while reading architectural digest I saw reference to nightingale floors, but no accompanying definition and promptly forgot about it.
Later while laying the wood floors in our mountain cabin I was amazed to find that the boards had unique and nuanced sounds as they rubbed against each other.
With a bit of ingenuity in fastening the wood you can create a magical ongoing conversation with the house.
Going room to room at times seems like dancing on a xylophone.
You skate from board to board creating warm enticing tones that will resonate in your memory forever.

TERRENCE

Long shadows fell across the witherhunch as Raoul looked out across the vast landscape. A grassy meadow with the occasional tree spread out before him. He stood under one such tree, the witherhunch had found safety next to a good sized rock. Raoul loved the night, watching the dark shadows dancing.
A soft song rose, started from his right and spread out across the land; he heard a loving sigh in the distance. Raoul reached up, picking the nightingale off the branch. He looked deep into its eyes and it sang to him as her squeezed the life from it.

PLANET X-RAY

Jack gazed dreamingly at the singing women on the stage. He could understand why the theater had billed them as the Nightingale Sisters, their voices where as beautiful as any real Nightingale could sing.
They were also the loveliest ladies Jack had seen in a long time, Jack was going to enjoy this evening. He had sent them a red rose and a promise to dance till dawn.
They had all accepted his invitation, eager to dance so lightly across the floor in their gay dresses to the sound of the stringed instruments, to be merry until the next dawn.
But Jack had darker plans, as the sharp blades in his pocket would attest. By dawn, the nightingales would no longer sing, but would croak instead, and the rose he had given them wouldn’t be the only thing running red.
And the nightingales sang on.

SOUGENT

It’s after midnight and I can’t sleep, I mustn’t sleep, if I sleep they will find me and then….
No! I can’t think of that.
I cautiously move through the dark forest, I hear the song of a nightingale in the distance and a feeling of dread comes over me.
Is it really a nightingale, or is it a signal from one of *them*?
I look around nervously.
Two wizened little men approach a motionless form on the ground, one of them pokes it with a stick and snorts, “sleeping eh?”.
The song of a nightingale fills the forest.

WILL ROSS

Gail Winters. They called her Nightingale, the stripper who could sing. Tonight I just call her the victim. We’ve been here before, but, If you tell my wife that I’ll deny it. The Station boys visit after work, drink a beer and watch her dance. She’ll sing, “My Funny Valentine” or “Fever” before she strips down to her dainties and hustles the rubes. Tonight she’s in a pool of O-Positive, all because she tried to break up a fight and took a beer bottle behind the ear. Station boys arn’t happy. Killer’s in for a rough night.

PLANET Z

Y’all knows Colonel Harlan Sanders, but what abouts Lieutenant Yancy Ottercott?
Two reasons why, son:
He warn’t talented with a pressure cooker as his neighbor, and one day while cooking up a bird, the lid blew off and stove in his fool skull.
The other reason was that he warn’t cookin up chicken. He was frying up nightingale.
Didn’t bother pluckin them. Left the feathers right on, dipped and breaded those suckers whole.
Crunchy, sure, but Harlan’s chicken couldn’t be beat.
As for the mashed potatoes, well, Harlan swiped that recipe from Yancy.
Not that he’d be needin it anymore.

Weekly Challenge #101 – Life In The Sewer

16105451

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And One, 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 JD White.
It’s Life In The Sewer.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

STEVEN

I rise from the manhole, from my sewer home. Rain runs down my green
skin and the scratches in my shell. It has been twenty four years,
and I tire easily. My brothers’ weapons slew many soldiers before
they fell. Only I remain.
Our enemy is in his home, now just a slumlord with antique armor. He
watches our old cartoons and laughs. All anyone remembers are pizza
eating caricatures, our innocence as youths.
The enemy eats his pizza, ignoring the irony. He forgets that our
ninja skills surpassed his. Tonight, I will remind him.
I draw my swords.
Cowabunga.

STEVEN #2

I had sent the link to my grandmother, parents – all of those people
who like to see what I’ve written. And then – only then – do I start
to listen to the podcast. He dropped the F-bomb. Before the intro
music.
I am so glad I mentioned the dirty words.
I am going to be in trouble. I’m sure of it. I was going to run
away, but I would miss them. Instead, I’ll go down. It’s warm in
winter, and there’s never any traffic jams.
Once my nose adjusts, I might get used to my exiled life in the sewer.

AINI

Life is such a great journey. We learn a lot from living which helps us to deal with
different kinds of situations that we face. Living is a wonderful experience.
As for me, I love my life. It is amazing and a lot of fun. In life you can do so many things
that you can enjoy or learn from. In my life I have great things like money,
a home, my own room, a soft bed and a lovely pillow on what I put my sleepy
head every night. My life is fabulous. All these gorgeous things around me make my life perfect.
However, there is just this big word ”but” to all this. This is my life only when compared to life in the sewer.

PLANET X-RAY

Norton strolled down the tunnel looking for the valve that would drain this section. To think he had spent almost his life in the sewers and he couldn’t find one lousy valve.
His mind kept going back to last night’s bowling. It just wasn’t the same without Ralph. Oh sure, Laurence bowled great, but he wasn’t Ralph. He was just too stiff and didn’t joke around like Ralph did.
Plus, Norton was still in shock from when the cops handcuffed Ralph and led him away.
Oh sure, Ralph had said it a hundred times in the last 20 years, but who though he’d actually do it.
Well, he still had his life in the sewers to look forward to, poor Ralph would be in prison and Alice, well there just wasn’t any coming back from the moon.

GUY DAVID

Most of the time, only the rats and I live here. I say most of the time since every once in a while, a lonely traveler finds his way here.
This is the real underground. Got used to the smell, the crap flouting here in the sewer, you’d be surprised what people flash down their toilets. One can find all sort of strange toys down here for use on hapless lonesome travelers. Their screams can be heard for miles, but there’s no one to hear.
Would you like to come visit? I’ll have a special room ready, just for you.

TERRY TEE

Bizrocca strolled slowly along the walkway deep in thought
Here she was working her ass off to keep them living the life style that they were accustomed to, and what does he do.
He gives her that tasteless birthday cake with little meat in it, and she was sure he had used the neighbors pet as the main ingredient. Why she had found the toenails from seven of the beast’s feet in the cake for god’s sake.
And just what does he say”.
“But my lumpy dumpy, I wanted to catch that 4 legged beast the earthling brought with him, but it was just too fast for me.”
Too fast for him, shit, he was just too fucken lazy to get off his ass and leave their comfortable house.
Well, that was life in the sewer, it just doesn’t get any better than this on Mars.

ELISSON

I row through the Underground, navigating past the Ordure Ocean, the Beeyem Bay, the Sea of Shit. I”m a regular Crap Mariner, sailing the sewers like Jason and the Cacanauts.
After all these years, I”ve gotten used to the reek. Almost.
Life was different once. You might remember me: I was the Ty-D-Bowl Man.
With my blazer and jaunty captain”s cap, I”d paddle around in toilet tanks, freaking out the housewives. You”d freak too, if you found a little dude rowing a boat in your tank. Great gig while it lasted.
Lousy defective flapper valve.
I still miss my cap.

ANIMA

After pulling on hipwaders, I slurp the last of the tea. Collecting my Browning BAR and a fistful of.338 Mag cartridges, I head down the main utilidor”
I can tell its after 8 ” there’s lots of brown trout nudging downstream. Sometimes, I come see the afternoon surge around 4:30, weekdays. In this sector, trout are quiet on the weekends.
CHUDs have been spotted to the north… that’s where I’m headed. My job is to protect topsiders from becoming lunch, but I do it more for the fun. I hope to bring home a huge trophy mount today. Wish me luck!

TOM

It was cramped but doable. The easy bake on Maria, Maria in Arnesto”s lap. “Is the air always red here?” Ask Maria. “No last time it was green about the constancy of pudding.” he said gazing out at the mists of vermilion. “Are we there yet?” laughed Arroway, the Kronomer didn”t get the reference. The mist cleared to reveal a dim dust filled room. Something was very wrong. As they stepped into the room Maria noticed the following scrawled on the wall: Life In The Sewer. On the floor was a package from the future: Book Number Three.

CRAIG

The dog is dead, cat living in a tree, me I”m living in a city sewer.
Everything I ever owned or dreampt of owning is out of reach
cause I”m living in a city sewer and someone has closed the grate.
Neighbors are rats and their getting fat living in the city sewer.
We all bob like apples when it rains in the city sewer.
The other day Hank drowned living in the city sewer.
We all scramble for heat when buses idle over the city sewer.
In the summer we all hold our nose living in the city sewer.

BRYAN / KA-KLICK

The elevator sank quietly into the shaft. His spirits racing ahead of it. As it came to rest at the lobby his spirits continued into the abyss. The doors slid open silently. He clicked across the sterile marble and glass space and stepped out into the street.
It was a cool night and the grates in the street billowed forth a steady cloud of steam.
It made him pause to wonder: What would life in the sewer be like?
Could he just fake a really bad accident, set up some kind of secret lair, become the phantom of Wall street?

SOUGENT

It’s the smell you notice at first, when you first go in, a raw foul stench that permeates the air.
It clings to you, thick and cloying, wrapping around you like a warm blanket.
Moist and steaming, it flows around you.
So strong, you can taste it, every nuance, every flavor.
After a while, you get used to it. Stay long enough and you learn to love it.
Ah, yes, close your eyes and inhale deeply, breathe in that wonderful fragrance.
Life in the sewer.
My life, my world.
It’s the life of a sewer rat.
JD WHITE

I stand in a dim shaft of fading yellow light.
Around my legs the black stagnant water is disturbed only when I move.
Before me the curved walls of the tunnel quickly fade away into the darkness.
The smell no longer turns my stomach.
At the edge of my vision red pinpoints no longer blink out when I scream.
Time has lost its meaning here where the only sound is the scurry of sharp claws on wet stone.
For long years I fought its call until its blasphemy overcame my will.
It draws near in the dark.
The Cthulhu comes.

And I love it.

DAPHNE

I moved to the sewer after it happened. I wasn’t the only one there. Some people went to the subways but we found that the sewer gave us more mobility. They run all over, we were able to get to supplies we needed to live. We’ve managed to adapt to living down here. We can go to the surface, but only at night, it’s only safe at night. The remaining surface dwellers help us out, until they get caught. Kids talk about the surface like priest talks about heaven, you might get to go there someday if you are good… and dead.

PLANET Z

Every cell in our bodies is a living thing.
Fat cells.
Muscle cells.
Nerve cells.
And blood cells.
The collective that is you may be dead, but these cells will live on for as long as they receive oxygen and nutrients.
As I watch the blood drain from your body, run down the gutter and into the sewer, I imagine that your life’s journey is not quite over.
Life is taking a detour, if only briefly, into the sewer. Bon voyage, life! Pleasant journeys.
Oh, and your kidneys, packed on ice, will live on in a very wealthy businessman in Tokyo.

Weekly Challenge #100 – Cake

28899248

Welcome to the One Hundredth Weekly Challenge, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
(If you’re curious, this is episode #1,402 of this podcast. 1,514 – 96 – 16 – 1 = 1,402)
The topic this week was selected by Phish Frye of Purple Stripe.
It’s Cake.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

This is important, because there’s prizes on the line.
Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

The cake floats before us, made buoyant by the 100 candles adorning its upper surface.
100.
The century mark.
A sign of longevity, wisdom, and occasionally intelligence.
The cake descends slowly coming to rest on the brightly decorated table cloth.
Many paper plates of various colors are spread around the table.
Forks and cups of clear plastic are nearby.
A green plastic cake knife cuts through the wonderful white icing, biting into the rich brown interior releasing words that spill out and then float upward until they swirl around the guest.
100 words for each.
Happy birthday 100 word podcast.

STEVEN

The recipe amused her: “As this homey dessert bakes…” It was
appropriate, in an overdone kind of way. He had been gone for just
over a year. He would appreciate a little care package.
The scoop whuffed a small puff of flour onto her mother’s old
cookbook. When she cooked, her mother’s memory was close. She could
almost hear her voice.
“Sissy, get all the ingredients together before you start cooking,” it chided.
Fine.
Sugar. Eggs. Baking powder. Metal file. Chocolate. Vanilla.
Her son called from the other room. “Mommy, when will Daddy come home?”
“Soon, baby. Real soon.”

KEEME

Tossing and turning in bed, I wondered, will it start again, the sweet whisper of temptation?
As sleep drew me under, the aroma of this magnificent, cruel pastry dragged me back!
“STOP IT” I yelled out. “You’re wrong, I don’t want you or your lies!”
But it was relentless.
Damned dirty cake!
It saw through me, watched me as I thrashed about, fighting the urge, wanting, mercilessly luring me closer.
I KNOW! I’ll throw you out!
As I slowly made my way to this delicious adversary, I reached out and grabbed an apple.
Not as satisfying, sure, but still sweet.

EVAMOON

Alma bent her legs first one way and then another, trying to find the right fit. In the end, she discovered if she curled up on her side and tucked her right foot tightly behind her left ankle there was just room to snug her hips inside the rim of the round pan. She leaned forward, pressing her breasts against her thighs; left arm beneath her cheek and right snaked into the small space above her feet. It wasn”t easy, but wasn”t her family worth a little sacrifice?
After dinner the kids all begged for an extra slice.

HOPE

Cake, soft and squishy, and fluffy, and sugary or tart and sweet and everything complete! What can I say about cake? It is my favorite food. I crave it in all forms. I crave it in Chocolate. I crave it in Vanilla, I crave it in Carrot. I crave it in Red Velvet the most!
Because Cake is my favorite word I use it to describe people as well. The word cake is used to describe people who make me feel sexy, bring no drama, and always make me laugh! Because I can have my cake and eat it, too?

KA-KLICK

He rose from his desk. Alone in the building, it was that quiet time, before the cleaning crew came but after even the most dedicated employee packed it in.
His legs quivered as he rose. Would he have the nerve to go through with it? This was going to take planning but he had to get it done before things hit the fan.
He stepped through the doors of his corner office, to make his way through cube land, confronted by the remains of Charley’s cake.
Poor guy, wasn’t going to enjoy retirement as much as he’d thought this afternoon.

TERRY

Bizroc looked at the recipe once again as he prepared the ingredients,
1 cup of ground malni root
1 teaspoon of fugg powder
1 torful egg, divided
1 tablespoon of groggy grease
2 cups of briz flour
Yup, he had all of them set aside.
Now all he had to do is find the main ingredient.
He had seen the two legged earthling a couple of times,
that would be more than enough meat,
maybe too much, he hated to be wasteful.
Ah, but that four legged earthling he saw running round the last few days
would be just right size for the recipe.
How to catch it, that was a problem, it was so quick.
Well, Bizrocca better appreciate her special birthday cake this year,
with all the trouble he was going through to make it for her.

ANIMA

Baby Shower: White and pink. Games played, chablis drunk.
Sweet 16: White and yellow. Ritual passage into adulthood; Stolen kisses playing “Spin the Bottle”.
Graduation: A purple scroll on a field of white: 6 years tedium commemorated by eggs and sugar. Cake ignored. Keg well attended.
Marriage: All white pastillage and fondant. Top layer lasts longer in the freezer than the vows do.
Funeral: A final slice to a white life. Still trying to scrape the frosting off.
Marmalade tiers between dry white crumb layers: first kiss, first car, first child, first marriage, first million… the sweetness of life…

GUY DAVID

They wanted to bake a cake to be remembered. They wanted to break the world record. What they came up with was huge. 100 yards long, 100 yards tall and 100 yard wide, strawberry, vanilla cream and lime. It was a masterpiece. Then, the cake came to life and started eating people. They had to call in the army. It was messy. Now, I’m left to clean up the mess. I think I just found the cake’s heart. It’s still beating. I wonder…
“colonel Jackson, look at that giant matza marching in the street. I think we have a problem”.

TOM

An alarm wailed through the infirmary of the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. Maria released Cervante”s fingers and ran into the hall. Cervantes continued reading Ellie”s message. He stop at the words: Easy Bake Oven. “How in Zeus will I fit two adults and an oven onto the Kronomotive?”
Suddenly a screen on the wall illuminated. Cervantes still wasn”t comfortable with the concept of images flying through space, but of course he was flying through time. “There was a brench in the hemorrhage collector. We grabbed the first contain we could find.” She held up a toy oven and a cupcake.

ELISSON

Gary Gateau was a uranium miner.
Every morning he would don lead-fiber coveralls and facemask and descend
into the bowels of the Athabasca Pit. Every evening he would shamble
home exhausted, encrusted with triuranium octoxide.
Caked with yellowcake.
Gary hated the yellowcake. It got in his nostrils, his ears, his eyes.
He knew that eventually it would kill him. But he had to make a
living. Ironic, that, he thought.
Today, however, was his birthday. He rushed to his shack, eager to
celebrate.
His face fell when he saw that his wife had baked a cake.
A fucking yellow cake.

SOUGENT

Lord Farnsworth reached over to the side table and rang the little
bell which would summon his diminutive robotic butler, Rett.
Wheezing, mechanical sounds drifted down the hallway, “You rang sir?”,
Rett asked.
“Yes, you bumbling fool”, Farnsworth exclaimed with a thump of his
cane, “I want some cake, right now!”.
“Yes sir”, Rett said with a mechanical wheeze that sounded almost like
a sigh. He departed for the kitchen to retrieve the cake.
Once in the kitchen, the robots demeanor changes. “It is cake you
want? Then cake you shall have old man, enjoy it while you can.”

CRAIG

The invitation was waiting when Sally turned on her computer. Reading
the email she thought “I need more then cake to chase away this mood”.
Still, it was Saturday and a few sweet bites just might help.
Fork in hand Sally went to the bakery, headed to the sample table and
went from one end to the other. With each bite her feelings of not
belonging desolved just a bit more.
Leaving the bakery Sally walked six or seven miles assuaging her guilt,
then hailed a taxi for home.
The bakery”s computer waited to send Sally a new sweet invitation.

CALEB

When he saw the size of the cake, Laurence Simon thought he knew what
was coming; but from whom? Ellison might jump out of the cake with a
crummy story, or Tom with something bittersweet that lingered on the
minds tongue like the memory of espresso. Laieanna would pop out with
something deliciously on topic. Guy or Caleb would predictably do the
unexpected and throw pies if in that cake. But when tentacles like steel
cables wrapped around his throat and pulled him into the cake”s
slavering maw Laurence thought, “Oh boy! Andrew Ian Dodge is back,
welcome back Andrew!”

STUART

The old man sat in his chair not thinking or expecting much for his birthday.
Then again at the age of 85 you have so many old friends who have passed away and it seems like nobody wants to even be with you. He longed for cake. Even now it was something he could not really have. He can’t even walk up the street to get his own cake these days.
That’s when it happened…
The whole family flood in to the tiny terraced house bearing gifts and cakes. He couldn’t even describe how happy he was to eat cake.

DAPHNE

It was her 100th birthday, all her family and her few friends who were still alive were there. They had a party and at the end the birthday cake arrived. She was given a piece then stood up to address everyone, the room got quiet to hear what she had to say:
“What the hell? I live 100 years and you give me a sliver of cake with no frosting? Well fuck you, food police! Give me a real piece with roses, lots of them and that better be real frosting not that shitty whip cream stuff.”

PHISH FRYE

The wedding was going well but I was nervous about the cake cutting.
Of course, our friends were goading us into slamming the cake into each other’s faces, but it meant more to us than that. It was a symbol of our vows, our first test of trust as newlyweds. Would she keep her promise? Could I trust her with my life? I closed my eyes, waiting for her answer.
Slowly, lovingly, she placed the cake in my mouth. Promises kept. Our trust formed. Our lives, together.
In the end, divorce was the only option.
The cake was a lie.

HOUSTON

Dang it Wade, David Carr just signed with the Giants. Brad Johnson is
old and feeble, sure Carr has created a suckstorm everywhere, but I
think I could mold him.
What about Tony Romo?
Jessica Simpson has his loins all a quiver! We have got to do
something to get his focus back!
Jerry, I know we bombed two years in a row in the first round of the
playoffs, but I think he is coming around.
Why is that Wade?
He made you a cake, look!
Wade” That cake looks like a set of boobies. Get Romo in here!

LAIEANNA

In the frigid air, Purple Sprinkle 39 from bottle 142668 awoke in the
dark. He remembered the avalanche of white frosting that sent him
sliding to the platter below. One absent piece from the cake and the
icing on top had become unstable. He got up and felt the layered
edges of the open pastry, determined to climb it’s spongy middle and
make his way back to his rightful place among his brothers who called
for him. He needed to return before the fridge opened and the cake
was taken away again to celebrate 100 Word Story Challenge’s 100th
birthday.

PLANET Z

Old Gertie died last night.
One day short of a hundred.
The TV people will be here in an hour to tape her blowing out the candles.
We bought a big cake just for that.
We’ll just have Fuzzy Norma sit in for Gertie.
She doesn’t talk much, except to say “Yes?” and laugh.
Neither had? I mean have any family around, so I’ll do all the talking.
After the party, we’ll quietly ship Gertie off to Shady Springs.
Don’t worry. None of the residents will blow it.
I’ve told them if they say anything, they won’t get any cake.

Weekly Challenge #99 – Hemorrhage

11652617

Welcome to the Ninety-Ninth 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 Elisson of Blog d’Elisson.
It’s Hemorrhage.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

BYRAN

It was a hemorrhage. Red ink filled up the balance sheet, there was no
end in sight. He stared and stared at it, somehow hoping that by sheer force of will he could make the numbers rise, but there was no hope.
There was nothing left to be done. He was ruined, his family would be picking up the pieces for years to come, and he was to blame.
There was his insurance, but it wouldn’t pay for suicide. He had to figure out how he could salvage something of his existence, but it HAD to look like an accident.

SOUGENT

So the other day, I’m crossing the street minding my own damned business
when this motorcycle appears out of nowhere and knocks me flat on my ass.
I’m lookin’ around, wonderin’ what the hell just happened, when I notice
that I’m hemorrhaging large quantities of blood from the mangled stump
that used to be my elbow.
As I start to pass out due to the loss of blood, my life starts to flash
before my eyes and boy, is it strange.
What’s a midget butler and a giant robot doing in my flashback?
Jeez, I shoulda just took the bus.

ANIMA

Billy
(look at that scabby blonde girl,
thinks she knows everything,
’cause she spelled “omniscient”
hope i get an easy one like that.)
Contestant #5: ENCEPHALITIS
E-N-C-E”.
(almost my turn” i can’t take this any more”
i call this fun? my brain’s about to explode”
hurry up already”)
Contestant #33: PHLEGMATIC
F-L-E-M”
(ha ha he’s out” oh crap, i’m next”
no freaking way will i do this again”)
” #9?
I’m sorry; may I hear the word again with a definition?
HEMORRHAGE… A PROFUSE”
(thinkthinkthink” why’d I get this bloody word?)
H-E-M”

TOM

Arnesto through the accelerator on the Cronomotive. Ellie blew him a kiss and she was gone. About the steam time machine balls of light rolled over its surface. When he arrived at 2099 a crystal structure encased the Cronomotive. Cervantes felt faint and fell forward. Hurriedly a crew extracted the St Elmo”s time hemoglobins.
When he awoke Maria was holding his hand. “You experienced a bit of time hemorrhage.” “Time Bleed?” Arnesto croaked. “When you arrived last month you set up the hemarrhage collector. Here”s a message from Grandma.” Cercantes read shook his head. “It seem you”re traveling with me.”

CRAIG

Ellen walked straight to the back room of the old bakery joining the
five of us already present. We sat hushed as the baker brought us the
mythical liquid chocolate cake.
As Ellen sliced into the cake chocolate lava hemorrhaged from the center
engulfing all six layers. Off in a corner the baker smiled and a dog
barked.
Each of us was served a piece dripping with liquid chocolate. Savoring
each bite we thought how poets lived for just such a moment and
experiencing feelings boarding on rapture we all in unison smiled at
Ellen, wishing her a happy birthday.

DAPHNE

As I sat to write this story the ideas started to flow. I had a noir story about a body and a knife, but nothing congealed. I had a financial story about shopping sprees and lots of boots, but it wouldn’t fit. I had an amusing tale about wind-up toys leaking oil, but it dried up. I finally figured out I could write about my ideas hemorrhaging out of my brain to fast to write them down but then I ran out of words to tell it. Darn that limit who can write something good with only 100 words?

They taught me the word hemorrhage in medical school.
Such a descriptive word. I like to hear the word.
They taught me to use a scalpel to relieve human suffering.
That’s what I do. Relieve suffering.
I have helped many who suffered great pain. I have helped her.
She lays in a heap on the bricks of the alley. I watch as the blood pools about her, black by the light of the gas lamp.
She had called to me from the alley and I could hear the pain in her voice.
Stepping close I said ?Just call me Jack?

TERRY

Fuel, glorious Fuel!
I started early in the morning searching the cargo wreckage.
I had just about given up finding anything worthwhile.
Then I found it,
Fuel, glorious Fuel.
With it, came Hemorrhage.
Now I can Hemorrhage in the morning,
Hemorrhage at noon,
and Hemorrhage at night
I had forgotten how I enjoyed Fuel and their Hemorrhage
No, not fuel as in gas,
Fuel, the band, and the Best of Fuel CD I brought.
There’s nothing like a little Hemorrhage in the morning to get you going.
This is Josh Jones, survivor,
Signing off

LAIEANNA

The day Heaven rained down on us was a Tuesday. It wasn’t harps and
halos, but there was no doubt in the location. A sunny day turned
suddenly dark with black clouds slithering, lightening temporarily
blinding us, and thunder keeping everyone staring with hands clasped
over ears. Maybe hours passed, but it seemed seconds. The sky opened
up and from nowhere, Heaven began hemorrhaging beautiful angels with
burnt wings. They plopped to the ground like wet towels. Turning to
the man I just knew was the devil, he smiled back, saying, “Not my
doing. I think someone is cleaning house.”

GUY DAVID

They called him The Hemorrhage Man. He would bleed for them at the snap of a finger, the blink of an eye, and he loved it. They would circle him like vultures, thirsty for him, and he would feed them, every last one of them, and still, blood would pour, never ending streams of it, red, fresh, satisfying.
They called her pale fountain. She was a stream of water, the sun dancing between her clear shores, forever smiling, she was beauty in her eternal youthful essence.
They made a strange couple, but when they made love, blood and water united.

PLANET Z

Once upon a time, before all this crap they air now, MTV used to play these things called music videos.
Duran Duran and Weird Al and Pat Benatar and all these performers lipsyncing to crazy-ass minimovies, animations… whatever they thought would convince people to buy more of their music.
Then there was Nena and 99 Luftballons ” a foreign antiwar message set to a pop beat.
Red balloons mistaken for a strange aircraft… war breaks out and cities are destroyed.
No, it never happened that way. Thanks to MTV, our culture hemorrhaged into garbage and incivility.
Shut it off. Now.

Weekly Challenge #98 – At my funeral

11554030

Welcome to the Ninety-Eighth 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.
It’s At My Funeral.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

PHISH FRYE

Overslept. No idea how tired I was. As I try to put on my slippers, my feet just keep passing through. I really must have overdone it last night.
Downstairs to the kitchen. Not even a note taped to the fridge. She’s really not coming back this time.
Staring, blurry-eyed, at the cofee maker, trying to remember the night before.
“My sister?”, she asked.
“Yes”, I replied.
“But why?”
“Because she swallows.”
I probably shouldn’t have rolled over and gone to sleep at that point.
Or bought that over-sized pillow.
Gave up on the coffee. Late to my own funeral. Interred ten minutes ago.
I guess mother was right.

ANIMA

I am transitioning into the grey realm of “Adult”. Where do I fit? I am too young to be old, but too old to be young; I must embrace middle age.
The passing of youth shall not go unnoticed. At my own funeral, I will have black horses with feathered plumes draw the hearse; followed by a Dixieland jazz band. I shall bury the fears and vagaries of inexperience in a box six feet under, and joyfully don the wings of maturity.
I wear tattoos as memento mori, etched in earlier years, to remind me of
the temporality of youth.

CRAIG

Hunched in the locked confessional booth fearful of discovery, holding
my breath I squint through the cracked stained glass.
Sitting directly in front of me wearing a black floppy Hedi Lamar hat
was Delilah. Animated as always her head bobbing to and fro blocking my
view of the mourners.
Sure, I wasn”t dead but I felt like I was. That damn Delilah was causing
me as much grief at my funeral as when we lived together.
I whispered pleadingly “please Delilah take off your hat.”
Mourners came and left my funeral. Tell me, how can I ask who they were.

STORM

The ratings are astronomical. And the wave of condemnations only draws more watchers. It’s all that raw humanity, framed and outlined by the horrifically inhumane context. It’s a pricey show to make, right up there with “Bridezilla!” its only real competitor, but the advertisers flock to it. The fans love the show – laughter, tears, raw truths revealed, heartbreaking stories, secret lovers and previously unknown children, the episode where the guy ended up in the emergency room when his wife found out he was fine…
Truly, “At My Own Funeral” is the most devastating example of reality TV ever made.

TERRY

Day what, I don’t know, I’ve lost track of how long it has been since the crash.
I have just spent the last several days working with the communications equipment and have partially repaired the Vid-Comm. I now can at least receive transmissions from Earth but still unable to let Space Command know I am alive.
The first transmission I have received was ICN anchor Dan Quayle discussing the explosion of the landing module on descent and how the Phoenix, the main ship, is still in orbit around the planet. He said that Space Command will be remotely using the Phoenix to survey the planet for wreckage but there was no hope for survivors.
This evening, Dan narrated during the memorial service as President Clinton and the First Husband placed wreaths for each of the crew members next to a stone replica of the Phoenix. I never thought that there would be a day where I could watch and be at my own funeral.
This is Josh Jones, survivor, signing off.

TOM

Ellie Arroway bedded Cervantes on day one. “You said I would have to take the initiative.” As Arnesto caught his breath he noticed an ancient manila folder at the night stand. The label on the edge read “At My Own Funeral” a pencil scrawled signature read: A. Cervantes. “A man should not know his fate,” he protested. “Don”t get all Doc Brown on me. Look at the photo.” Arnesto saw himself at 80 laidout and himself at 40 standing next the Queen, a young girl on her lap. “That”s Herminie Arroway the great great great grandmother of your grandchild Marie.

GUY

A crow spread his wings and flew away. The men carrying the coffin looked up and smiled at their black feathered friend. A clown in a business suit juggled cats. Everyone cheered and threw colored confetti. The four men put the coffin on the ground. A man and a woman jumped right on it and made love. “A life ending, a life beginning” proclaimed someone from the crowd, I couldn’t see who it was, was too busy being dead, but I know my friends where going to remind me how wonderful life is, and that’s the way I wanted it.

DAPHNE

I stood in the back watching the mourners. The closed casket with a photo on it… a photo of me. They said the only way I would be able to escape her was to produce a body. So I went to the morgue, claimed a Jane Doe and paid for a proper funeral. They said after years of living two lives it would kill me, I guess they are right. She was trying to take over, saying I needed her to live. Well I’m alive and she’s heading off to cremation. Before I leave I’ll sign the guest book “My deepest sympathies on your loss, Daphne”.

JOSH

The enemy vessel returned fire; apparently their feelings were mutual. Dead and dying men littered the deck, but the Captain stood fast with determination. He watched as the ship surgeon and priest moved through plumes of smoke, like angels of mercy amidst thudding musket-balls and cannon-fire. Untouched by any, they reached a hopeless young man ravaged by shrapnel, and the priest knelt to read his last rights.
“…Amen,” the priest finished and stood up just as a musket-ball splattered the sailor’s face.
The Captain returned his attention to the battle. His funeral, a traitor’s funeral, would not be as distinguished.

They came over the palisade by the hundreds. Our only weapons, sharpened sticks and rocks. Afterwards, nothing was left to bury.
They found us hiding in a cave. Our mutilated bodies were tossed into the canyon below.
In the deep woods the legionary put us to the sword. Our bodies left to feed the wild dogs.
They sank the ship and left. We floated for days without water, before the sharks came.
The jungle erupted with automatic weapons fire. We tried to run. They left us to rot where we died.
Death is always near. Not so a decent funeral.

LAIEANNA

Proportions are wrong. I see myself, bigger than life. Crying is
happening all around. I’m staring at family and friends through a
kaleidoscope view. It’s nauseating. I tolerate by concentrating on
the why they’re here. So many from my past. Some deeply ingrained in
my memory and yet others a fleeting face I can’t quite place. What am
I doing outside myself? Oh. I’m dead, but still seeing myself in
all the massiveness I had become.
Casket door closes and I’m alone with myself in the dark. The air
won’t last. I had such a short time in this reincarnation.

PLANET Z

Dr. Odd fired up the time machine and ordered it to send him ahead a thousand years into the future.
Instead, something jumped out of a rift in the fabric of spacetime and the machine crashed.
Bruised and battered, Dr. Odd climbed out of the wreckage to discover that he’d collided with a duplicate of his from another dimension.
The investors would be pissed about this project’s failure, so he killed his mirror-twin and ran.
There were a lot of questions raised at his funeral. Thankfully, he didn’t have to answer them from his new hollowed out volcano headquarters.

(Ending music “At My Funeral” by Crash Test Dummies)

Weekly Challenge #97 – Mufaletta and Navel Lint

8240972

Welcome to the Ninety-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 Elisson and Caleb.
It’s Mufaletta and Navel Lint.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

TOM

Arnesto”s first jump was to Dec 1st 1999. He was greeted by a beaming female stranger who called him Pooky. This completely rattle Cervantes for it was the term of endearancient Ways
Ament of his mother. “You said you”d look surprised and should be reminded that time is like navel lint.” She handed him a Mufalleta and said it was his favorite food from the future. “Have we “” started Arnesto. “Yes and a lot more!” said the director. “You said you always leave just before you arrive.” She handed him a very old box. He handed her a very new book.

CALEB

She said, as she put down her Mufaletta, “I think this sandwich has navel lint in it”.
I asked, “Do you even know what navel lint tastes like”?
She said, “Oh I know what navel lint tastes like, I”ve had my tongue in more belly buttons than you”ve so much as seen”
I said, “I dunno” I”ve seen a lot of belly buttons”
And then she threw out a number. A number I won”t share with you because frankly, you won”t believe it. But I believed it; I was there. I said, “honey, you”re the weirdest woman I”ve ever known”

TERRY

Day 4 ” May 16, 2012
After putting it aside for a couple of days, I find myself trudging back to the wreckage of the living module of my once proud ship. I think the shock of losing my fellow crew members has abated enough so that I can give them a proper burial.
Reflecting back on to each of them, our time together in training and the 2 month trip here has given me a new prospective on life and friendships.
Sergeant David Mirowski, the security NCO of the crew was a huge man, but now so very small after the flames of the crash has claimed him. It may be crazy, but the one thing that I remember best about him was his 30 year collection of navel lint that he kept neatly rolled up in a ball. I’m going to bury it with him since it meant so.
Lieutenant Regina Rodriguez, my co-pilot, so beautiful in life along with being so talented in many areas. During our trip to Mars, she would prepare dishes from her home country at least once a week to give up a change from our bland rations that we were provided. I think my favorite was the Mufalleta she made last week.
I couldn’t find the body of our final crew member, Sprocket, the Labrador Retriever that Space Command sent along. I wonder if he made it out before the fire or was in some other part of the ship, I guess only time will tell.
This is Capt. Josh Jones, Earth Space Command signing off.

GUY

Aunt Mazal and uncle Hezki came to visit us from Israel last summer. They insisted on making their famous Mufalleta. They disappeared in the kitchen. We waited. Strange sounds followed. They emerged with what looked like discolored pan bread, a small dish with honey and another with chocolate spread. Mother shrugged and dipped a piece of Mufalleta in honey. It was then, we noticed the little gray blobs on the Mufalleta and the fact that uncle Hezki had one hand up his nose and another picking up lint of his naval. We never invited aunt Mazal and uncle Hezki again.

JOSH

“Fire!”
At the Captain’s command twenty broadside cannons spewed hell’s fire, smoke and brimstone orbs into the air. The spheres carried with them the thunderous echo of dissension and presented it one by one to their target with the fury of a scorned lover. Unrelenting, the battery reduced the marked ship to splinters of charred wood ? naval lint.
They would not misinterpret or ignore his subtle message. After all, most things are more gentle than the kiss from a cannonball, but few are as conclusive. On this day, the Captain had many final kisses to deliver, to many former lovers.

ELISSON

Katrina devastated New Orleans in 2005, but Hurricane Louis sounded its
death knell in 2023. The city drowned, never to recover.
Both the Navy and the Marines sent in frogmen to salvage what cultural
artifacts they could. There was a huge demand for experienced
Muffuletta Divers.
It was a heartbreaking job, one that was physically demanding. The
divers needed concentrated rations that packed a caloric punch.
Chocolate filled the bill.
While the Marines favored Godiva at first, it was a Swiss chocolatier
that won the hearts of the Annapolis boys. Oh, how the Big Easy salvors
loved their Naval Lindt.

LAIEANNA

“I’m sorry,” Amber said, staring at her mufalleta. Justin first
thought she was talking to the sandwich till she bit into it and
continued. “It’s just not going to work out between us.” Her mouth
moved with each word, exposing the beginning of her digestive process.
“I’m not attracted to you. You never fart or belch. You don’t
smell; hair is neat and your skin is smooth. For god sakes, you don’t
even have navel lint!” Justin sadly bit into his own food. “And you
eat salads! You’re not a normal guy.” She gawked in disgust,
finishing off her meal.

PLANET Z

According to The Bible, Adam gave names to everything.
But if he and Eve were crafted by God’s hands, then they were not born of a mother, so they had no navels.
After their expulsion from Eden, Cain’s birth presented the couple with a few new and somewhat messy items requiring labels.
“Baby,” muttered Adam, pointing at his squalling son. “Umbilical. Placenta.”
Eve picked up the baby and began to nurse.
“Mind getting me some clean fig leaves?” she asked. “My old ones are a mess.”
Adam went gathering, because it took a lot a leaves to cover her-
“Mufelatta,” he mumbled. “I should name something that.”

Weekly Challenge #96 – Steampunk

8444571

Welcome to the Ninety-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 Elisson.
It’s Steampunk
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

CALEB

Joey Ramone looked into Wendy O Williams” eyes and said, “Your eyes are like two limpid pools drawing me in to an oasis of love”
He felt her tremble as he pulled her heaving bosom close to him and as their lips met
they both heard a single distorted guitar chord
with an incessant 8th note rhythm, relentless like the engine powering their love.
Their hearts raced as groping hands
pulled each other nearer
and a second chord was added
as zippers gave way and
unwashed blue jeans
fell to the floor.
No need for a third chord,
it”s punk.

ELISSON

Doctor Rauchfisch stood over the basin, trimming his muttonchops
carefully with his straight razor. He rinsed. A splash of bay rum and he
strode out, clapping on his top hat and walking-goggles.
Dodging the press of Stanleys and Vapormatics that clogged the street,
he arrived at his office and rode the hydraulic lift to the seventh floor.
Taking a polished mahogany case out of his desk, he unfolded it,
snapping the steam hose into the wall outlet. Rapidly clicking clockwork
signaled the Difference-Engine”s readiness.
He smiled. Life was so much easier since the invention of the World-Wide
Steam-Powered Computational Network.

TERRY

I have just woken up from the strangest dream I have ever encountered.
In the dream, I was living the life of someone called Oswald Bastable in the early 19th century on earth. We were in the process of chasing some Chinese guy across the Pacific, when our difference engines quit and we had to switch over to the steam powered motors. This slowed our descent enough that we were able to land on an island without any damage or personal injuries of the crew.
My very able assistant, Penelope Tugbottom and I frolicked along the island beach while the crew made repairs to the engines so we could continue our chase.
This was so unlike my real life crash landing on Mars that I encountered several days ago.
The loneliness and stress of the past few days had taken a toll on me, I guess I better not be reading Moorcock’s The Warlord of the Air or any steampunk material for that matter, so late at night.
This is Captain Josh Jones, Earth Space Command signing off.

TOM

Arnesto Cervantes joined The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen in 1899. His contribution to the organization was the Kronomotive a steam driven time machine. The Kronomotive could jump 100 years between overhauls. Refueling and repairs on average took one month. Queen Victoria approved a two year voyage for Arnesto”s steam jumper. The mission was at once simple and tremendously complex in nature. Arnesto would take ten 1000 page books to be delivered to each jump point. At these centitaral coporarites he requested a list of 100 questions be written in each book to be answered by a millennium of future minds.

GUY

The train stopped and puffed blue smoke. The metal figure stepped up and boarded it, Kevin following. He knew metal men weren’t supposed to exist in the 19th century, but he didn’t care. Time paradox or not, he was keeping his bodyguard close at hand. He knew well enough there where dangerous things around. This was the wild west after all.
Suddenly, a flash appeared and his metal bodyguard was torn in half. “I should have guessed Steampunk Girl would follow me here” thought Kevin as two silver disks flew away from the robot wreckage and disappeared in the distance.

LAIEANNA

An enhanced prostitute, Rose captivated the passengers more with her
wafting scent than the dance she performed. Thomas Persuade took his
opportunity, convincing the adjoining train car guards to sleep while
Dr. Dushan used his clunky, brass backpack to melt the iron door under
blows of the train whistle. Big Micky stood guard. The Baroness,
close by, concentrated on her glowing ball. She was key to their
escape before the rear soldiers were even aware they were there.
Getting passed the locked door, Big Micky grabbed the treasure, and
Baroness transported them from the locomotive in a cloud of smoke.

The book was a success. Awards were bestowed upon the author.
The movie was released and generated, in its first six weeks, ten times the production cost.
Of course there were detractors auguring that the premise was wrong and the research flawed.
But the media ran with the story, citizens groups organized, government agencies intervened, and now we are required to cut back.
Who could have envisioned in the latter part of the 20st century that the release of heat and water vapor from our steam engines could so change the world and bring on the the fifth Ice Age.

PLANET Z

Which were the best stories in Weekly Challenge #106?
	Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club
	Almo Schumann
	Guy David from Guy David dot com
	Tom from Footnote
	Terry Tee from Quiet Time
	Evamoon the Lunatic
	Planet Xray from Planet X Podcast
	JD from Writing.com
	Craig from Wash The Bowl
	Thomas
	Steven the Nuclear Man
	Daphne from Going Broke
	Anima Zabaleta
	Laieanna and Hodgepodge Point
	Mike
	Sougent from SL Adventures of a Southern Gentleman
	Planet Z

Free polls from Pollhost.com

Which were the best stories in Weekly Challenge #104?
	Tom Merkel
	Mike A.
	Joel H.
	Hotspur O’Toole from Hibernia on the Kids
	Guy David from Guy David dot com
	Steven the Nuclear Man!
	Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club
	Terry the Quiet Time Podcaster
	Daphne from Going Broke
	Planet X-Ray from Planet X Podcast
	Elisson from blog d’Elisson
	Anima Zabaleta
	Tom from Footnote
	Hedgie
	JD
	Laieanna from Hodgepodge Point
	Terrence from Never Was
	Sougent from Sl Adventures of a Southern Gentleman
	Planet Z

Free polls from Pollhost.com

Which were the best stories in Weekly Challenge #103?
	Steven the Nuclear Man!
	Tom from Footnote
	Terry the Quiet Time
	Guy David from Guy David dot com
	Planet Xray from Planet X Podcast
	JD from Writing.com
	Daphne from Going Broke
	Sougent from SL Adventures of a South Gentleman
	Evamoon from The Lunatics
	Craig from Wash The Bowl
	Anima Zabaleta
	Terrence from Never Was
	Planet Z

Free polls from Pollhost.com

Which were the best stories in Weekly Challenge #102?
	Daphne of Going Broke
	Steven the Nuclear Man!
	Tom from Footnote
	Terry the Quiet Time
	Anima Zabaleta
	Guy David at Guy David dot com
	Craig from Wash The Bowl
	Terrence from Never Was
	Planet X-Ray from Planet X Podcast
	Sougent from SL Adventures of a South Gentleman
	Will Ross from 118 Migration
	Planet Z

Free polls from Pollhost.com

Who had the best stories in Weekly Challenge #101?
	Steven the Nuclear Man!
	Aini
	Planet X-Ray
	Guy David from Guy David dot com
	Terry Tee from Quiet Time
	Elisson from blog d’Elisson
	Anima Zabaleta
	Tom from Footnote
	Craig from Wash The Bowl
	Bryan from Ka-Klick.com
	Sougent from SL Adventures of a Southern Gentleman
	JD White from Writing.com
	Daphne from Going Broke
	Planet Z

Free polls from Pollhost.com

Which stories were the best from Weekly Challenge #100?
	JD from Writing.com
	Steven the Nuclear Man!
	Keeme from The Keemecast
	Evamoon the Lunatik
	Hope Clary
	Kaklick from Ka-klick.com
	Terry from Quiet Time Podcast
	Anima Zabaleta
	Guy David from Night Guy
	Tom from Footnote Podcast
	Elisson from blog d’Elisson
	Sougent from SL Adventures of a Southern Genlteman
	Craig from Wash The Bowl
	Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club
	Stuart from SLPN
	Daphne from Going Broke
	Phish Frye from Purple Stripe
	Houston from Tatertots For The Masses
	Laieanna from Hodgepodge Point
	Planet Z

Free polls from Pollhost.com

Which stories were the best from Weekly Challenge #99?
	Bryan from Ka-Klick
	Sougent Harrop from SL Adventures of a Southern Genlteman
	Anima Zabaleta
	Craig from The Open Site
	Daphne from Going Broke
	JD from Writing.com
	Terry from Quiet Time Podcast
	Laieanna at Hodgepodge Point
	Guy David from Guy David
	Planet Z

Free polls from Pollhost.com

What were the best stories of Weekly Challenge #98?
	Phish Frye
	Anima Zabaleta
	Craig from The Open Site
	Storm Thunders from From The Eye Of The Storm
	Terry from Quiet Time
	Tom from Footnote
	Guy from Guy David
	Daphne from Going Broke
	Josh from A Work In Progess
	JD from Writing.com
	Laieanna from Hodgepodge Point
	Planet Z

Free polls from Pollhost.com

Which stories were the best from Weekly Challenge #97?
	Tom from Footnote
	Caleb Bullen from Black Tie Martini Club
	Terry from Quiet Time Podcast
	Guy David from Guy David dot com
	Josh from A Work In Progress
	Elisson from blog d’Elisson
	Laieanna at Hodgepodge Point
	Planet Z

Free polls from Pollhost.com

Which were the best stories in the Weekly Challenge #96?
	Caleb Bullen of Black Tie Martini Club
	Elisson of blog d’Elisson
	Terry from The Old Coot Cast
	Tom from Footnote
	Guy David from Night Guy
	Laieanna from Hodgepodge Point
	JD from Writing.com
	Planet Z

Free polls from Pollhost.com