The 100 Word Stories Podcast

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

LISA

Bedtime

No one remembered when she’d stopped talking except her. It was easy to remember your ninth birthday. She’d got by silently since then with a series of mimes and a whiteboard she took everywhere with her.

She’d been prodded and poked by Doctors all over the country but they found no physical reason why. One had shouted ‘This needs to stop NOW’.

She didn’t eat much but had just started to feel a hunger. A waking need within. As her Dad sat on her bed to say goodnight she decided tomorrow would be the day that she actually told someone.

RICHARD

Mimes

I really don’t like them.

Ambushing you in the street, with their silly white faces, striped shirts and gloves, thinking they’re oh, so clever.

It starts with the old, stuck in a glass box illusion: Feeling their way around imaginary, invisible walls. Then we’re treated to the invisible tug of war, the non-existent bunch of balloons threatening to drag them off into the heavens, and then – if you’re really, really lucky – the impossibly heavy bag illusion.

And unbelievably, they have the temerity to rattle a collection box under your nose.

So, I always mime dropping a coin into the box!

LIZZIE

The Drunk Monk Tavern didn’t have a nice brew or even acceptable food but had the best mime contests. Mimes came from miles away to take a chance at winning the big prize. And what was the big prize? Lily. Lily was the daughter of a monk, according to her mother. And Lily desperately wanted to get away from her dishonorable past . The only problem was that she couldn’t stand men yapping on and on. She wanted a mime. Her mother agreed especially because they were running out of room in the backyard and the local authorities were getting suspicious.

SERENDIPIDY

She mimes that she’s hungry – she has to: The room is soundproofed and you can’t hear anything through the plate glass.

I’ve kept her prisoner in that room for nearly ten years now, and she’s become quite adept at communicating with me by miming. It’s probably just as well: I’d have been perfectly happy to leave her to starve to death and rot, but I figured if she’s going to make an effort, so should I.

Considering her condition, it’s surprising how elegant and eloquent her communication can be, almost beautiful.

She’s proof that art is the product of suffering.

NORVAL JOE

Before either Billbert or Linoliamanda could say more, their history teacher stood up. “Okay, class. Let’s have some silence as I take role.”
The two attempted to mime their questions and answers to one another, but mostly made the universal sign for, ‘I don’t understand’.
Billbert struggled to pay attention in the 45 minute class until he could voice his questions.
As they headed back out into the hallway, Billbert pointed to his friend and said, “Sabrina. This is a friend from my old junior high, Linoliamanda.”
Linoliamanda smiled vacantly and said, “You’re a witch, aren’t you. I can tell.”

PLANET Z

As much as people hate mimes, the truth is, they don’t hate all mimes.
Sports mascots with the big cartoon heads and don’t speak are actually a form of mime.
And, yes, they’re mimes. They’re not clowns.
The ones without big cartoon heads and are actual people, okay, they’re a mix of clown and cheerleader.
But the rubberheads, they’re mimes.
Mimes may use invisible props while mascots use actual props, but neither speak, and both express themselves with gestures.
So, yeah, people love some mimes.
But that creepy Burger King mascot?
Jesus, that guy is fucking creepy. No way, man.

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

LISA

Reasonable Grounds

Julian thought he was clever and had destroyed all the evidence in the taxi but the one thing he couldn’t hide was the glint of delight in his eye. His wife, Sally, had waited up for him and although she hadn’t seen that glint for a while, recognised it instantly.

So there were no secrets as the couple got into bed but Julian didn’t know that as he slipped into his contented slumber. Sally stared at the stranger she’d been married to for twenty years before deciding she wouldn’t divorce him. Then slowly pressed her pillow over his sleeping head.

RICHARD

…

LIZZIE

I remember this. Everyone used to find it amusing and mother found it particularly useful. The others laughed and giggled and sneered. And mother snickered, looking like a child about to be naughty.
No one ever said a thing. No one ever stepped in. Father was just too busy to even know. Or perhaps he had decided that it was best for him not to know. She used to hang it around my neck, the string emphasizing the humiliation. And I had to do the house chores with that sign on. It said “Bought and sold”. I do remember this.

SERENDIPIDY

One day, they’ll find this cassette tape, carefully protected in a sealed, waterproof bag, inside the pocket of the mouldering remains of the jacket you were wearing when you died.

It may be many years from now, but no matter when, or how your remains are finally unearthed, the contents of this tape will disclose your identity.

And mine. Along with – in the most intimate and visceral way possible – your final, painful moments of life, and your subsequent death and, of course, my confession. All recorded here for posterity.

I just hope, in the future, they remember how cassettes work!

ZACKMANN

I like owning things I paid for but not storing them. Books and DVDs are not so bad because if I have limited shelf space I can always donate them to The Friends of the Library whose sales many of them came from. Sadly they don’t take VHS nor audio cassettes anymore. Sure if I pay for something digitally it can disappear forever at any second because it is licensed not owned but at least my wife won’t complain that it is taking up to much room in our garage for her brother to move his stuff out of storage.

TURA

Remember; Own
———
I remember when you could own stuff. Yours, to do whatever you liked with. Youngsters today can’t even grasp the concept.

I remember famous people. Now everyone’s interchangeable cells, a mould on the planet, creeping everywhere and doing nothing that matters. Sure, they’re “happy” but you can’t have a conversation with them.

The future ended when we got smart enough to make life so easy that life wasn’t hard enough to keep us smart. And now that AIs do all the work, no-one ever needs to be smart again.

All success tends to failure, and this is the ultimate success.

NORVAL JOE

Billbert looked at the rain cloud above them. “Okay. I’ve learned my lesson. Could you shut off the water torture so we can dry off before class?”
Sabrina rolled her eyes and the rain stopped. “Just remember this the next time you doubt me.”
Billbert followed her into class and sat at his normal desk. A blond girl occupied the previously empty desk in front of him.
She turned to face him and her familiar myopic gaze lit up with recognition. “Billbert. What are you doing here?”
Astonished, Billbert said, “Gee Linoliamanda. That’s what I was going to ask you.”

PLANET Z

Long ago, we’d make our own cassette mixtapes.
Songs we’d harvest from the radio, from MTV.
From records and other mixtapes.
Or whatever we stole from the record store.
Then came CDs, and CD burners.
When MP3s came around, and iPods.
Pass around thumb drives of music, attach them to an email.
It’s so easy to share now, with Spotify and other services.
Just send a link, and everybody can listen along.
Then came memory scans, and you could pass a mixtape of how you feel.
And they share how they feel about you.
Really feel.
And they hang up.