Ted’s doctor recommended that he change to a plant-based diet, so out went the hamburgers and steaks and in came the salads.
Ted was miserable, until his pal Martin reminded him that potatoes were plants.
“And they’re fried in vegetable oil, and vegetables are good for you,” Martin said.
“Oh, and you dip them in ketchup, which is tomato, right?” said Ted.
Eventually, Ted convinced himself that grain-fed steak was also plant-based.
The room began to sway and Ted fell to the ground.
“Heart attack,” said the paramedics.
They dropped Ted off at the morgue and went out for steaks.
Mystery by Lizzie
“The painting changed.”
“What do you mean?” asked the cop.
He wasn’t sure.
“Do you mean it’s a different painting?”
He shook his head.
“Well, then… We’re off.”
That’s when he saw a slight movement.
The hands. It was the hands.
The cops wouldn’t believe him, he thought.
So, he threw the painting in the garbage. Too disturbing.
The neighbor across the street snatched it and placed it at the window facing the street.
Better not tell anyone, he thought, but the hands waved at him.
He didn’t want to be taken to that place… again.
Shop around the corner
The shop around the corner has been selling magic spells for years.
Just like her mother and her grandmother before her, the old witch who works there crafts the spells by hand and mixes the potions herself.
When the SpellMart opened across the street, people were enamored by low prices and wide selection of spells.
They were also enamored by a charm spell covering the whole block.
Being a cheap high-volume charm spell, it caused everyone to flock to the store.
Even while driving.
Seventy-eight wrongful death lawsuits forced the SpellMart to close.
“Such a shame,” said the old witch.
The Picnic of Ants
I remember watching a movie about giant ants attacking a town and wondering why they didn’t just hold a giant picnic to lure the ants away.
“What happens when the picnic runs out of food?” my mother asked.
“That’s when the poison in it should start killing the ants,” I replied.
My mother smirked, then got a glassy look in her eyes.
And fell face-down in the Jell-o mold.
I cleared away the plates and dishes, packed them in the picnic basket, and wrapped her in the picnic blanket.
I’d have to go back to the car for the shovel.
Mystery by Aspen
One dark and stormy night in a haunted forest lived a child unable to escape the walls of her family home. Only there now to watch over ones she left behind.
Her only means of getting out was to attach herself to another living only through what they felt, saw, touched and heard. The gift of laughter no longer her own, memories lived on in those who came after her life lived in stone.
She knows who they are but to them shes an unknown, never spoke of in shame, a mystery of the little child cracked, locked in stone.
Weekly Challenge #651 – Mystery
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:
RICHARD
Scooby Don’t
It’s a mystery to me how Scooby Doo managed to stay so popular for so long.
Sure, I could understand the attraction of the geeky Velma, delectable Daphne and dependable Fred, but Shaggy didn’t have a lot going for him, even as a cartoon character.
And who wouldn’t be impressed by a talking dog?
But the stories themselves… Rubbish!
Dark spooky building, apparently haunted; Mystery Machine rolls up; much running around, screaming, and colossal sandwiches; fatal error by ghostly presence; cops arrive; janitor unmasked.
And he would have gotten away with it too, if it wasn’t for them pesky kids!
CHARLIE
The mystery oil applied to her face was advertised as removing wrinkles deep in her cheeks, over her lips and on her neck. She had no idea what it was, but it costs as much as her car payment for a sixty day supply. She assumed it would work.
It worked. It tightened the skin so much on her face, that in order to appear curious, she had to raise her eyebrows with her fingers.
The oil seemed to dissolve her skin to the point that cosmetic fillers would not be necessary. Botox, of course, was out of the question.
#2
Chef Thomas drizzled the mystery sauce on the grilled steak. The sauce was his secret. Even the sous chefs had no idea what constituted the sauce.
Thomas learned about the sauce when he traveled in the orient, visiting various villages.
He was introduced to the sauce by an old woman. He slipped her three thousand Baht, and placed jars of sauce into his bag.
On the trail back, he noticed that there were dogs following him, sniffing and pawing his bag.
He had only seen this behavior once before. It was the day he cut his hand in the kitchen.
SERENDIPITY
I’m no fan of cop shows.
The plot twists and turns required to keep the final outcome a mystery irritate me. That’s not how it works in real life, where the cops usually know what they’ve got at the start and, spend the rest of the investigation gathering supporting evidence.
However, I do enjoy watching old episodes of Columbo, because unlike every other cop show, you see the crime being committed right at the beginning, you know who did it and how, right away.
So, for any cops listening, I’ll make it simple…
It was me: With my bare hands!
JEFFREY
The Lost Episode
by Jeffrey Fischer
“Crikey, it’s not a ghost at all, it’s Mr. Smithers!” cried Velma, pointing at the running man, his mask having slipped from his face.
“Rister Rithers?” Scooby said, confused as usual.
“Make sure he doesn’t get away!” Daphne said. Always the sharp one, that Daphne.
“Radical, man.” That was Shaggy’s contribution.
“Don’t worry, gang, we’ve got him. Get in the Mystery Machine,” Fred said. The fivesome piled into the van, slamming the doors shut. Flakes of rust rained on the pavement. Fred cranked the ignition a half-dozen times before the engine caught with a mighty backfire. He pushed down hard on the accelerator and the van… went nowhere. He adjusted the side mirror and saw a bright red boot clamped on the rear wheel of the van.
“Shaggy, did you pay those parking tickets that you said you would?” Fred asked.
Shaggy gave Fred a big, stoned smile and said, “I would have, but I had the munchies and spent the dough on a bag of hamburgers and fries.”
“Rut-row.”
TURA
Mystery – An Ekphrasis
———
In a certain undistinguished town in Argentina lies the Plaza del Infinidad.
You must enter it on a deserted summer afternoon, from the alley at the corner of the Curiñanca. Stare to the clock tower on the far side. It must be three o’clock. As you make toward it, it recedes, for after walking half way, always half the distance remains. The clock stands still at three o’clock. Here, in the mystery of the hour, somewhere there lies a mirror reflecting the entire universe, but only one has ever found it. The others wander still, lost in this infinite space.
———
TOM
My First Mystery
When I was a kid I uses to watch the Mickey Mouse Club on TV. Late 50’s stuff. They had this on goes section called The Mystery of the Applegate Treasure. It was Hardy Boys knock-off, but I was way too young to be able write, so the story was classic TV mind candy. There are this recurring scene in the series that never left me. A tight shoot of a gloved had tapping out a message on a phone so the boys could get this coded message. In the end it turn out to be the young female led.
NORVAL JOE
Billbert followed Mr. Withybottom up to Linoliumanda’s door.
Everything about the situation was a mystery.
Linoliumanda said she would only speak to him and Mr. and Mrs. Withybottom believed her.
“Go ahead.” Mr. Withybottom pointed to the door.
When Billbert reached for the doorknob Mr. Withybottom grabbed him by the wrist and growled, “Knock.”
“Oh. Sorry.” Billbert raised his hand to pound on the door.
Before he could, the door opened and Linoliumanda pulled him inside.
Billbert had never seen so much pink in his life.
“Um. What do we do now?” Billbert asked.
Linoliumanda pulled him toward the bed.
PLANET Z
When Inspector Fred arrived at the scene, he couldn’t help but mutter “This is such a cliche.”
A remote mansion, a long road and drive to the front door, a butler waiting at the front steps.
And a once-innocent dinner party had become a murder mystery.
The guests and staff were, of course, all suspects.
Inspector Fred interviewed all of them
They had reasons to kill the victim. But they also had alibis or reasons why they couldn’t have murdered the victim.
So, Fred chalked it up to suicide and let them all go.
“Asshole had it coming,” he said.
Summer camp
Every Summer, my parents sent me to Camp Killer With A Hockey Mask.
At first, I was worried that I would be killed by a killer in a hockey mask.
But apparently, the camp’s name comes from the local Indian tribe.
It’s just a coincidence that their tribe’s name resembles our words for a killer with a hockey mask.
This was a relief… until campers started to disappear.
“Oh, that’s because the tribe’s name actually translates to Killer With A Machete,” said the chief counselor.
He picked up a bloody machete from his desk… and put on a hockey mask.
Down in the sewers
Ted’s new birthday clown business wasn’t doing so well.
Some kind of vengeful spirit in the form of a clown was wandering the sewers and murdering children.
Ted had a certificate from the church that guaranteed that he wasn’t a vengeful child-murdering spirit.
“I’m bonded, too,” said Ted. “Oh, and I tell jokes.”
But that wasn’t enough for most parents.
He tried a magic act, but he was too clumsy for magic tricks.
And he had bad luck with keeping rabbits.
Eventually, Ted gave up, and went back to working in the Water Department.
“Just not Sewers, please,” Ted requested.
Johnson’s sack
Of all the houses on the block, kids love to visit Old Man Johnson’s house on Halloween.
The door opens, Johnson steps out with a large burlap sack, and the kids shout “TRICK OR TREAT!”
“Here,” growls Johnson, and he throws the sack at the kids’ feet.
It’s the possums that he’s caught in his traps. Live or dead, but often quite bloody.
“Possums are good eatin!” the old man says.
Kids toilet paper the trees in his yard a lot.
Johnson rolls the toilet paper back up and keeps it.
“Save me a trip to the store,” he chuckles.
Media Filter
Bob was a censor for a social media corporation.
It doesn’t matter which one, really.
There are a lot of people like Bob at all of the social media corporations.
All day long, he’d look through flagged images and content, judging whether something violated the platform’s standards.
Awful things. Horrible things. Hellish things.
And three buttons to click on: YES, NO, and ESCALATE.
Over and over again, all day, and all night.
Bob looked around the gigantic room.
Rows of people at computers, reviewing similar horror and filth, judging it.
Until all they knew was the evil in the world.