Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at podcasting.isfullofcrap.com. I’m your host, Laurence Simon.
This is Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Ninety-Eight, 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 Mine
And we’ve got stories by a lot of people:
And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post.
The more people see this on Google Plus, Facebook, and Twitter – the more explaining you’ll have to do with your loved ones, coworkers, and parole officers.
if you ever want to find yourself without that emo soul searching, shit:
just look in the water
you always see your reflection
(if the water is not polluted or likely purple because of your cheap shampoo)
i’d make a point to look a lot. it was my own secret silly ritual.
it made me happy to find something, someone constant.
today, we romantically took a bath together
you got in with me. i couldn’t stop smiling
out of habit, i looked down to see myself
“all mine”, you said hugging me
breaking my face in water
i didn’t know whether to be euphoric or sad
The flaws are mine.
Cultivated over these thirty-odd years, they are upstanding members of the flower community.
Flaws turn into tiger-lilys, daisies, roses, violets, and dahlias. Once they are fully grown, I pluck them out, though I know they don’t like it at all.
Pride, pessimism, vanity, sloth, and anger. All a bouquet, dried and hung from my pot rack. I see them every day when I wake up, and smile at my unencumbered life.
Until I realize the color is gone, and take them all back in, one petal at a time. My morning coffee has never tasted sweeter.
Swallowing hard against the strongest urge to drink since Daddy died, I make coffee instead.
Three of five of us are gone on now. My sweet sister dead of booze-drowned grief. Two amazing faces and voices doppler behind my eyes — that snickering toast learned at his knee.
I laugh and sob fergawdsake… Precious and botched, losing more than keeping, and me, too tiny to hold this knowing. With implosion imminent I raise the mug:
“Here’s to you.
Here’s to me.
May we never disagree.
If we do, fuck you…
Here’s to me.”
Nothing’s ever lost. These moments are mine.
“Daddy, Why did John Reid use Silver bullets instead of led when the Mythbusters said led works twice as well?”
“Don’t you kids use Wikipedia or TV Tropes anymore?
Reid used only silver bullets, to remind himself that life, too, is precious and, like his silver bullets, not to be wasted or thrown away.
Also, The Lone Ranger owned a silver mine so it was likely much cheaper than led. Did I mention Reid was a lawman when a gang of rouge werewolves terrorised the old then new west. Sadly, Tonto got bit by a werewolf and moved to Forks.
Mine, Mine, Mine
Screamed the flock of seagulls.
The first time funny
The 10th time amusing.
The 100th time the wall of reality begin to weaken.
“What do you want to watch?” asked Dad.
“How about the Little Mermaid, you like that one?”
“Look we haven’t seen Bell in a while?”
“We could watch something on the Disney Channel?”
“We got Never Ending story?”
“Want to go get some ice cream?”
“That Japanese one with the girl?”
“Last Tango in Paris?”
“Texas chainsaw massacre the remake?”
“Deal, but Nemo first.”
She took what was MINE. I loved her with all my heart. Apparently,
that was not enough. I gave her my heart, my body, my wages. We met by
accident when she backed her car into MINE. Not knowing how to save
this relationship, I tried everything. She loves money, but a lot of
money is tainted. It taint MINE so, It taint Hers. I knew she loved
Italian food. I made a recipe of MINE for her, a mixture of basil,
olive oil, garlic, and ground pine nuts. Since then we’re not lovers
but the pesto friends.
I’ve bought a land mine!
I picked it up cheap at a military surplus store on a whim. Don’t know exactly why, but when I saw it I just knew I had to have it.
I brought it home, cleaned it up, fixed the detonating mechanism, and buried it in my front yard.
Then I ordered a pizza.
Now I’m sitting by my living room window, looking out at the yard, waiting for the show to start.
Is that wrong? Perhaps. Necessary? Perhaps not. Nonetheless, I don’t regret a thing.
A mine is, after all, a terrible thing to waste…
The podcast that Munsi mentions is: http://journeyintopodcast.blogspot.com/
I don’t know who first said possession is 9/10 of the law, but it sure wasn’t an exorcist.
You humans think that just because you’re born into a body that you own it.. Fuck that! You’re not the owners. You aren’t even tenants. You’re just squatters. And it’s time to move on and make room, because my people are moving in.
Guess what? This voice in your head isn’t your repressed subconscious. And those dreams of floating off into the void aren’t dreams.
Very soon your body will be mine, mine, mine motherfucker! Enjoy it while you still can.
First, the smallpox took three of the village’s strongest. Then there
came word of raiders. The villagers fled, taking what little they
could of the recent harvest. Only old Jacob stayed, too frail to spend
the coming winter riding a cart.
When they came, he greeted them with politeness. “Welcome, what is
mine is yours.”
Their leader frowned, then laughed. “Yes! Yes, it is!”
Jacob lunged with a knife, but managed only to scratch him.
Yes, he thought as he died under their swords, what is mine is yours.
Everything, even the dirt on my knife, from the smallpox graves.
The shovel scrapes. “Hit something!” I call up to Bob.
He looks from the top of the grave, the light on my miner’s helmet showing his gray face. “Is it…”
“I think so. It wasn’t marked.”
Bob moves away from the top. “I hope so. Maybe you’ll shut up about her.”
I toss some dirt up at him, and get back to work.
Uncovering the grave is easy, though she’s hungry when I get it open. Bob tosses the shrieking food into the grave with us.
“Mine,” I whisper, watching my love rip the brains from the food’s skull. “Mine.”
Julio was an unknown soldier in an unknown war started by an unknown enemy for a reason unknown, although if I had to guess, I would say greed. Julio was creeping across this minefield, when he heard a “click.” The mine went off, blasting his body parts in several directions. Julio awoke, only to find Gremlins making off with his body parts. Julio fought all of them, screaming, “You can’t have those! They are mine!” By the time Julio finished fighting over his body parts, he had bled to death, and the little Gremlins ran off with his body parts anyway.
The dwarf squatted on his knees and peered through the keyhole of the lock. The ancient iron doors shined as brilliantly as they did when he was a child and turned his back on them with the rest of the silver pick clan.
“If yer stolen princess be in the old mine,” he growled at the boy who fidgeted with his belt knife, “she came not through this door.”
“You gave your word you’d take us in.” The boys voice quavered. “You’ll not back out now, will you?”
“Nay,” he sighed. “Though it costs me life, I’ll take ye in.”
“So, that’s what’s been going on with me,” I said. The emotions
in the eyes of my editor had been registering surprise to amusement to
sympathy as I’d recounted the minefield of my Adventures in Online
Dating. “I thought it would make a pretty good book so I knocked it
together and submitted it.” “Well, it’s a great story,” he said.
“We’ve been seeking new titles in dating and relationships and this
one reflects some solid personal experiences. I like it.” He sipped
his latte. “Hey, you wanna go out sometime?” I thought about it.
“Yeah, why not?” I said.
Long ago, when the mad scientist Doctor Odd was a child, he was the star pupil of his first grade class.
To reward him for his diligence, his parents handed him a sticker and said he could stick it on anything at the toy store and they’d get it for him.
Doctor Odd, being a science prodigy, went down to his lab and atomized the sticker into a spray gun.
Instead of spraying every toy and game in the store, he tripped and sprayed the girl at the cash register.
“Mine,” he said.
That was Sally, his first lab assistant.