Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at podcasting.isfullofcrap.com. I’m your host, Laurence Simon.
Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Sixty-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 “There he is!” and “Rebirth” and “When Hell Freezes Over”
Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):
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DC
“He’s here, he’s here!” the crowd hurrahed. “The King is reborn,”
“I told you, Myra. I told you he’d one day rise from the ashes.”
“Bah. From cheese burger wrappers and empty chip bags, is more like it.”
“Sacrilege,” shrieked a leathery skinned woman sporting a bedazzled tracksuit and bleached bouffant. She pointed a nicotine stained finger at Myra.
“Aw, Don’t pay any attention to my wife. She’s just bitter. She always said he’d rise when hell freezes over.”
“She doubted The King?”
A hush fell over the crowd as He floated onto stage. “Thank yuh, Thank yuh very much.”
Norval Joe
“Well, there he is. Just as she said he would be. My replacement,” Oswald muttered into his cold cup of coffee.
He slouched down in the cafe’s booth, peered through the street front window, and watched him kiss her.
“She said I didn’t have the cajonies to do anything about it. That hell would freeze over before I took a stand. But she hadn’t counted on my rebirth, the ‘new me’,” he said as he stood and charged out the cafe door. Just in time to see them board a taxi and drive off.
Oswald wondered, “is redeath a word?”
Zackmann
Look there he is, the guy who played Jonathon Coultons “First of May” on the Radio. Although
indie has caused the rebirth of music, I doubt that guy will get the his job back until about half
past when hell freezes over. Wait newspaper says it was the producers error not reading
explicit tags before converting older podcasts into radio shows. I sure hope he listens to the
shows like the episode with songs from Mike Yusis and Mark Yoshimo Nemcoffs musical that
must not be named before he thinks about putting any more shows directly on the radio again.
Nick J
My first killing blow had missed.
I cursed my nocturnally dulled reflexes.
The element of surprise was lost; my victim, forewarned and alert, was now concealed in pools of shadow.
He could hide in inaccessible places, hoping to outlast me.
This was not my first kill, I knew how this deadly game was played.
I must act silently. Noise would rouse new enemies.
I froze, listening intently. Blood hissed in my ears. I moved, warily, in stop frame motion, to flush him out.
There!
I triumphantly raised my newspaper for the messy denouement.
Eventually the insomniac always beats the fly.
Tom
Is that him?
I do not think so.
Over there?
Nope!
A figure built like a barrel hauler charges forward across the forum towards the colonnades.
“There he is,” said Raphael
Michelangelo was the symbol of Medici. Artistic rebirth
He waved his massive hands at the papal emissary.
“A Fresco, do I look like a painter to you?”
“Tell Most Holiness he’ll
Get his fresco when hell
freezes over.
He gives Raphael the finger as he passes.
Raphael raises his hand into the air
“I feel a drop in the temperature.”
And look there is Lucifer
skating cross the Rubicon.”
Danny
There he is! I was shocked; I assumed nobody could find me. What an ass I truly am. The chase began the leader of the “Rebirth” movement, created to show that Obama was indeed never born in America, has since failed. Now reduced to fox being chased by beagles in a horrific old world hunt, and my response to the situation? You beagles will catch me “when Hell Freezes Over!” AND, Hell will freeze over, just as soon as the continental ice shelf builds back up over the bulk of the continental United States of America. Say Halleluiah, say Amen!
Terrazabyte
A blank canvas sits on my drawing table begging to be used.
Each colorful tube of paint sitting nearby pleads their case to be first in use.
Blue speaks up and says, “Use me first, for I’m the color of sky”.
Green speaks next, “Use me, for I’m the color of the trees”.
Brown interrupts, “I should be first since I’m the color of Earth”.
They all begin to argue & fight as paint spews out toward the canvas covering the pristine surface.
The canvas yells “STOP, look what you’ve done!
Your colors mixed and blended upon me.
TJ
My directive was clear – use discretion, no flash photography.
But I’d ridden these rails before and the spot the two men had chosen
to rendezvous – between their two passenger cars while in the
Lourgnette tunnel – there’d be a split second of daylight as the
train passed beneath the airvent.
Above them, in the luggage compartment, I waited. Just as I’d
predicted, a shaft of sunlight illuminated the little chamber.
There he was, Minister Bergdorf, and the suspected corporate spy and
influence peddler. A whish of my cameraphone, and they were on the
Times-Register’s news site before they’d even stopped kissing.
Planet Z
Years ago, Bob Carson said it would be a cold day in Hell when he’d go to my Rebirth Clinic.
“It’s better than the alternative,” I said. “I feel great. Customer for life.”
That’s the motto: Customer for life.
You have to take the pills every day to live.
Haven’t seen him since. Until today.
Bob Carson. Outside of my clinic.
I walk out to his car. “Ready for the treatment?” I ask.
“You ran over my dog,” he said. “Almost hit my son.”
I see his gun. “Get in.”
He’s locked me in the basement.
It’s cold in here.