The 100 Word Stories Podcast

• Scribbling Wren
• Lizzie
• Richard
• Tom
• Serendipidy
• Norval Joe

SCRIBBLING WREN

Cara

My bag got stolen, snatched last night as I got off the bus but that’s not the moment of change in today’s story. Obviously, it’s a pain, stopping cards, the loss of the money – my tips were in there. And my make up bag, this is the biggie.

Right now, I’m on the bus without a mask of foundation, eyes undefined with liner, squirming with embarrassment not wanting anyone to look.

The juddering window exposes my naked face and I see me. I see me like it’s for the first time and I realise it’s OK. This is my face.

LIZZIE

The vase in the shape of a giraffe was the reason for many arguments in the Employees (the gang) Only room. Some said it was a deer, others a dog, others whatever. Though the “whatevers” would frequently win, she insisted it was a giraffe. She enjoyed being a nuisance, the vortex of all disagreements. When management decided she had to be promoted, the gang threw the giraffe in the garbage out of spite. That’s when they discovered a mic. This is how you go from being oh, so happy for being a nag to… oh my god, I was fired.

RICHARD

Exposed

We found the old camera whilst clearing out my grandfather’s attic. It was in a box marked ‘grandad’, scrawled in my grandfather’s curly script, and we figured from the newspaper packing, that the contents had belonged to his grandfather… My great, great grandfather!

It still contained a roll of exposed film, and my hands trembled at the thought of what treasures from the past it might hold.

“That’s cool!” Whooped my twelve-year old son, snatching the camera from me, opening it, and unspooling the film, holding it up to the brightly sunlit window.

“Nothing on it” he said, frowning.

TOM

Weather Will Kill Ya

There is a rite of passage in Chicago. As a kid your actively bundled by parents to not freeze to death. Deep layers of clothing insured you would make it to at least the age of 14. The winter of your freshman year peer-pressure left you sorely exposed to the elements. No boots, No hat, No scarf. Just jeans and a Letterman leather jacket, not exactly Arctic wear. And worst for the girls, in skirts. We were having none of that and forced both the official and unofficial school dress code into the 20th century

SERENDIPIDY

Don’t believe a word of it!

We don’t sleep in coffins, you can’t kill us with a stake through the heart, we don’t turn to dust when exposed to sunlight, and we certainly don’t have sparkly skin or enjoy a bad relationship with werewolves.

It’s all nonsense.

Except the part about drinking blood.

We definitely do that.

But, none of the rest of it, just to be clear.

We look, sound, act and behave just like anybody else.

We could be your colleague, or neighbour, or cousin.

Even you could be one!

Maybe you should give drinking blood a try?

NORVAL JOE

As Billbert and Sabrina walked from the movie theater to the ice cream shop he kept an eye out for her grandmother. Earlier in the day when she had coerced Billbert to take her granddaughter to the movie she made it clear she didn’t want her part in the activity exposed.
Sabrina smiled at him over her banana split. “I’m glad you’ve come to your senses and see that I am the girl for you, and not that Linoleum girl.”
Billbert dug half-heartedly at his hot fudge sundae. “I’m thirteen years old. I hardly think there’s any girl for me.”

• Richard
• Serendipidy
• Lizzie
• Tom
• Norval Joe
• Scribbling Wren
• Tura
• Planet Z

SCRIBBLING WREN

Mornington Crescent

Two platforms lured them away, promising an escape from the crush of bodies on the Northern Line down just sixty six steps. Phones had stopped working so no one knew the first explosion had been reported at Euston.

They’d felt it as it rocked the station, six panic attacks started Northbound, Southbound someone started to scream. Later the smell of charred flesh would creep down the tunnel.

Some had jumped. The precipice of the platform edge providing temporary relief then a respite on the train tracks until the eight twenty arrived on time for the first time in a week.

RICHARD

Horror on the subway

We heard it, long before, it came into view: A discordant, metallic grating that set one’s teeth on edge, echoing eerily through the subway tunnels and corridors.

As we drew closer, the sound of tortured human voices could be discerned amongst the sounds of destruction – wails and stomach-churning moans and groaning. The occasional shrieking scream pierced the air.

Grimly we continued forward, fearful of what lay ahead, but steely in our resolve, as we turned towards the platform, the full horror assailed us.

A busker quartet: Violin, tambourine, and three dreadful voices, massacring Candle in the Wind.

Truly horrifying!

TOM

Never Return
It has been nearly three quarters of a century, but his presents is still felt. From Kendall Station to Scallay Square. The ghostly face behind the window. Same say they can just hear his moans. Others the icy touch of his hand as he sails past the platform. All agree the presents of the etherical sandwich float in the train chills the bone, a horror in the subway. The man who never returned is not alone. That car is fill with the souls of every MTA administrator. They will ride forever beneath the streets of Boston, and never return.

LIZZIE

“Horror on The Subway” was the title of her latest book. A massive success. The aliens, assisting the newest rotation of settlers, were huge fans. When they realized she was visiting the base, they spent days putting out arrows. We laughed because the base was pretty easy to find and the arrow system was simply chaotic. No one saw it coming. Her ship did some odd twists and turns till it just vanished. Those arrows weren’t showing the way. They seized the controls! “Where is she?!” The aliens whistled distractedly, a skill they had recently picked up from us humans.

TURA

Horror on the subway
———
In 1976, the Swiss artist H. R. Giger visited London, desiring to explore the disused Underground stations. His guide was one Henry Cottonwood, a staff member who had worked at some of them. Cottonwood found Giger disturbing, but with good grace showed him around Down Street, Trafalgar, and others. But at British Museum, something happened of which he would never speak. He retired early and never again ventured below ground.

Three years later, the film “Alien” appeared, famously designed by Giger. On seeing an advertising poster, Cottonwood yelled, “They’ve escaped!”, running headlong into the traffic. He was fatally run over.

SERENDIPIDY

Take my advice and never take the last train.

I’m not trying to frighten you and I’m only advising you for your own safety, I promise.

It’s not because you’re likely to run into any gang members, muggers or druggies: You won’t find any of those stupid enough to catch the last train, no matter how desperate they might be… They know better.

It’s not tired drivers, sacrificing safety for speed, ignoring red lights in their haste to end their shift.

No, never take the last train, because that’s the train that I take.

And I prefer to travel alone!

NORVAL JOE

Billbert walked with Sabrina out of the movie theater.
Sabrina smiled at him. “Thanks for inviting me to a movie. I think this was my very first date.”
Billbert swallowed hard, knowing her grandmother probably followed close behind. “Yeah. This was fun, but I expected the movie to be about a serin gas attack, or maybe a mass shooting.”
Sabrina nodded. “Yeah. But still, it was really freaky when the passenger cars began to fill up with beanie babies. I mean, where were they coming from?”
Billbert agreed. “Really. I was worried. I’m just glad they eventually saved the cat.”

PLANET Z

On major holidays, the transit authority waives fares for the trains.
It’s great for all the people wanting to go Downtown for the lights and store window watching and all, but it’s also great for people living on the streets looking for a place to stay warm.
At every train and bus station, the cops come in and clear those people off, sometimes sending them to a shelter, other times just tossing them out on the street again, where they make their way back on eventually.
And then there’s the dead ones. They’re fed to the beast under track twelve.