Weekly Challenge #624 – Vibrations

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at oneadayuntilthedayidie.com.

This is the Weekly Challenge, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.

We’ve got stories by:

Sleepy Tin



Years ago I owned a car that was fine until you reached sixty, but anything above that speed would cause a noticeable vibration through the steering.

I didn’t think much of it and put it down to the tyres needing balancing, or something similar.

I eventually passed it on to my sister, and forgot all about it.

We were chatting the other day about cars we’d owned, and she referred to it as the one that nearly killed her.

Apparently, she was doing over sixty when the steering wheel came off in her hands!

Lucky escape for me, I reckon!


I am very sensitive to vibration. I am sensitive to vibrations when working at my desk, or studying. I’ve damped a number of things in the house and car.

I’ve used dense foam, old sponges, wood, cardboard, and other materials to stop the vibration and noise on my heat pump, washing machine and cold air injection on my truck.

A piece of heavy rubber jammed into the space between the washer and the dryer stopped the noise during the spin cycle, thus preventing a seizure and saving me from falling to the floor into a mound of incontinence and spittle.


In the old days, a good vibe was the vibration you got being around someone whose company you enjoyed or cherished. It was the vibe you got by being with them, or an environment that was cool, soothing, and peaceful as they were.

A bad vibration was the one that struck you and harshed your buzz. The buzz could have been an artificially induced high, or the high a person gave you.

A bad vibe should be abandoned as soon as possible and forgotton. It should never be discussed or spoken of, much like the 14 years of my marriage.


At the age of nineteen, the poet Maya Angelou worked as an exotic dancer.
Just image that.
You probably imagine her as some old lady reading “Why the caged bird sings” or her other works at various events.
Or her work with Martin Luther King. That was important, you know.
But me, I’m trying to imagine her younger self, working the pole at night and sneaking off to church during the day.
Imagine, going to one of her book signings, and telling her that back in the day, you had put a dollar in her g-string.
For her, maybe two.


My name is blue canary

MY heart beats

Like a tiny dove

The vibrations rising

It’s a song of love

I’m your only friend

I’m not your only friend

But I’m a little glowing friend

But really I’m not actually your friend

But I am

Blue canary in the outlet by the light switch

Who watches over you

Make a little birdhouse in your soul

Not to put too fine a point on it

Say I’m the only bee in your bonnet

Make a little birdhouse in your soul

I have a secret to tell

From my electrical well

Leaving out the whistles and bells


Can you feel that?

The subtle vibration that causes you to squirm slightly in your bonds.

Are you trembling too, with anticipation of what you think is to come?

Exciting, isn’t it?

But more so for me.

You see, I know you’re the one with whom my husband has been cheating on me.

And this isn’t an ‘erotic adventure’ that he’s set up for your pleasure.

Because I’m no dominatrix.

And that vibration is not the toy you think it is.

It’s a circular saw, and it’s moving steadily closer…

Now, you’re struggling!

And now, you’re sorry.

Aren’t you, bitch?


The vibration was stronger as the herd approached. They continued to sleep under the giant plant.
The bamboos muttered a strange song, the thumping making it grow more and more intense. They didn’t wake up. They slept on, immersed in their dreams, their huge ears flipping back and forth as if they were awake.
The symbols on the stone became bright, dancing to the rhythm of the bamboo song.
The herd trotted past them and didn’t even noticed they were there.
They opened their eyes slowly. The bamboo became silent and the stone went to sleep under the giant plant.


Normal Range
by Jeffrey Fischer

The new Metro trains were touted as modernizing the fleet: sleek, eight cars long, with overhead displays of the current and subsequent stations. The trains were also quite heavy.

Homeowners noticed increased vibrations as the new trains passed through the tunnels below their houses. Windows rattled, paintings shifted, and bric-a-brac walked in their displays. Metro downplayed the vibrations, claiming they were within “normal range.” That is, until house foundations began to crack and the occasional house collapsed. Even the transit system’s management had to concede the results were somewhat unusual and undesirable. True to form, their solution was to demand more taxpayer money to “improve” the system.


Billbert wondered why Roderick was accusing him. So, he’d escaped from the tree and foiled the bully’s joke.

Feeling flippant, he said, “Maybe I flew down.”

Roderick made a fist with his other hand. “You better not be making fun of me.”

The boy couldn’t take a joke. Maybe Billbert could impress him, instead.

“I did fly. Come here. I’ll show you,” Billbert said and lead Roderick to the patio off the library. With his backpack still over his shoulders he made to leap into the air.

All that happened was a weak vibration from a pocket of his backpack.


Hardly Any Time At All


Jon DeCles

I had been in Second Life a short time. Less than a year. Hardly any time when it comes to getting to know a person. Much less than a year if you count learning all the complex gobbledygook.

I was dancing in a club. My friend was bouncing next to me. Suddenly he explained to the barkeep that he was dead. His avatar was being occupied by his wife, who had never done SL before. He had died of a heart attack, and she came to tell us. Brave and kind of her.

I cried and drank Scotch all night.

Good (and bad) Vibrations


Jon DeCles

I like to dance, and I don’t mind feeling the vibration through the floor from the music when I am dancing. But when it is from the apartment upstairs, and I am trying to sleep, it is not a good vibration.

The people upstairs, or downstairs, never respond to polite requests.

I read in Mark Twain about Tesla and his experiments with vibration. Twain talks about standing on Tesla’s machine and feeling very comfortable until he suddenly had to run full speed to the rest room. I built the machine.

Now the vibration ends with the sound of repeated flushings.



“This is the best way to find water. Trust me.” He picked up a limb with a Y in it and held it in both hands.

“When you are over water it will kind of vibrate in your hands like text message” He said. “Then it will point down to the water and bingo!”

He walked in a big circle sweeping the stick back and forth. Whenever the stick pointed down I would run up and dig a hole in that spot. By sundown we hadn’t found any water, but I had six pull tabs and a Rainer bottle cap.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.