Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Thirty-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 Asylum.
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):
Justin
*
What are you in for?
I didn’t do it, I didn’t make the flames. They say I did! Criminally insane? I am harmless as a baby kitten, yes, a baby kitten! Mew mew!
*
Well, I know for a fact you’re not a baby kitten.
Mew?
*
No, you are not.
Why are you here?
*
Same reason as you, buddy.
You mean you didn’t do anything? Are you a kitty too?
*
Oh no, I’m innocent, but you aren’t, and it is your fault I’m here!
Mew? My fault?
*
Because I’m stuck in your silly head! I didn’t think you’d actually do it!
Ashley
So…I’m going to visit the asylum again.
At least they asked nicely this time, otherwise I may have decided to vacation somewhere else this year. Besides, I really like the asylum. After all, this is where the well-adjusted people are. Of course all those sheep and ants scurrying to and fro out in the so called real world think that they are balanced, but myself and a few select others know differently. Hopefully the service and hospitality will be as good as my earlier visits.
It will be nice to intermingle again with people who are fully sane…just like me.
Kolek
Mmmmmm. I’m back. I’m livin the good life. -8
Cruising with my boyz. Sportin a fresh brown Armani with matching Gucchi shades. Getting into fights. People turnin their heads. Later each night, getting head. -33
Pushin on 24 sumitomos, my SUV thumps the ground with 15 subs. Alternating ‘tween Yokes and Zanzibar, O-lounge and all those other clubs. -56
Well… not exactly. The rolex wasn’t real, the armani was “borrowed,” and my SUV is 12 years old. Still better than two years ago. Still Fly. My homeys got my back; my boss cashin the bank. -92
Yah I’m called “Kolek.” And I’m back bitches.
Eva Moon
“Joe, I swear it was the strangest thing. I was in the middle of a lecture and suddenly a wild-eyed woman in a straightjacket materialized out of thin air.”
“Quite a few ghosts haunt this university.”
“Ghosts?”
“It’s true . This place used to be a state mental hospital. Didn’t you know? The Eagles wrote ‘Hotel California’ about it.”
“Huh. I didn’t know that.”
“So many of the inmates who died here hang around that the university even has an admissions policy for them.”
“Admissions policies for ghosts?”
“Yeah: you can audit any class you like but you can never leave.”
Almo
They came on a moonless night, by luck not design. The waves lapped gently against the shore but the boaters could hear it from a distance.
It whispered asylum.
The roar of a Coast Guard engine startled them. They hunkered down as the searchlight swept over their craft. They were tempted to swim. Wet foot, you go home. Dry foot, you can stay.
They trusted luck.
In the morning, immigration agents found a boat on the beach. A dozen Styrofoam coolers lashed together with twine. An agent kicked at the boat and piece broke off. “They earned it,” he said.
Mike
The newscast had reported the utter devastation of the towns of Asylum in California and Pennsylvania as a macabre coincidence. He’d spotted the telltale signs, though, and had been horrified, knowing he was to blame.
He had left a message, denouncing the regime and declaring his intention to cross over and seek asylum. Apparently, his intention had been mistaken for a literal destination, and the Enforcement Fleet had been dispatched through the portal with orders to destroy him and his hiding place. Overcome with guilt, he knew he must act; unfortunately, his suicide wasn’t in time to save Sanctuary, Texas.
Philip
Ulnar Styloid, clan chief of the Olecranon Process, glanced up from his desk. A harried guard informed him, “The distal Interphalangeal Epyphases have entered our system. Their vessels are forming up in the Glenoid Fossa.”
“Attack on the the Dorsal Interosii will be next.” Ulnar concluded, “Naturally, they will come to us for asylum.” He pondered the back of his hand, then cracked his knuckles. He spoke to the guard, “Tell the Interosii they may land their vessels on Tibial Plateau and inhabit the length of the Vastus Lateralis.”
Ulnar Styloid smiled grimly; his nemesis, Vas Deferens, would arrive soon.
Jeffrey
Some wild things happen at the asylum for the criminally insane. But what I like is the asylum for the criminally sane, those people are crazy. Not crazy insane, but crazy as in they are in complete control of all their faculties, but still totally out there. There is nothing like that place. I go and just listen to the people. In the insane asylum you get the screams and crying, at the sane asylum all you hear is whispering and the gentle scratch of chalk on a blackboard as they figure out the meaning of the universe.
Guy
Dave the hacker was sure now that Bob belonged in an asylum. When he came with this crazy idea that The Chirapa where real aliens, he just shrugged and started working on tracking them. Harriet was his best friend and the least he could do was to help that crazy husband of hers. He was an avid listener of The Chirapa podcast since Harriet turned him into that, but he knew it was fiction. He was surprised when he actually found something, so he pinpointed it for Bob on his Google Map. Bob smiled and puled out an army knife.
Anima
It was late, but Isabela had made it to the church.
In a panic, she pounded on the door.
Soccoro, padre, please help, the federales are after me…
How could he not let her in?
You will have to stay here in the church…
Please, sleep quickly; do not open your eyes until I come for you in the morning.
Brother Theodore was bound by church law to provide asylum, but he was not sure that a night here was better than facing the federales
Slowly he walked down the center aisle, preparing to snuff the candles for the night./blockquote>
StevenI slam against the gate of the American embassy. The Marines watch,
ordered to keep the gate closed. I plead, beg, but they raise their
M16s at me… and at the policemen chasing me. One pursuer, groaning,
loses a rotting finger.
I recognize the female Marine. I had begged her for safety for my
merely political crimes, back when the police just wanted to torture
my flesh.
She slides a revolver with a single bullet through the bars. A tear
slips down her dusty, expressionless face. The hungry police shamble
down the street. I salute her and raise the pistol.Tom
The gates at Bellevue lay their shadow across room 412. Within the man who would be president sat very still strapped to the wall. The winter of 2020 was the coldest on record when the patient in 412 stopped responding to his name. From then on he would only reacted when someone said “Hey Joe.” “That’s Joe the Plumber to you.” The asylum was the home to a number of other great American politicians like John Mc Cain, Dan Quail and someone named Rudy. Who would have thought a Libertarian named Wurzelbacher could have taken out B. O. in 2012.
Planet Z
Little Bobby is crazy.
He gathered up bricks from a construction site and made a prison for his sister’s dollies.
No. Not a prison. These dollies weren’t just criminals.
They were criminally insane.
An insane asylum.
Mr. Potatohead had identity issues. GI Joe’s post-traumatic stress disorder left him with incurable rage.
Stretch Armstrong? Far, far too accommodating to survive in society. A pushover.
That left Barbie to diagnose. What was it she did to get locked up in here.
Like clockwork, Ken visited every week. Through the glass, Barbie would scream I WILL CUT YOUR TONGUE OUT!
Poor girl.