Every presidential candidate promises to move the US embassy from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem, but they never do.
There’s always some excuse that comes up when they change from a candidate to the officeholder.
Never mind that the US Consulate in Jerusalem, with its Arab-speaking staff and regular breaks for Islamic prayer times, is a de facto embassy to the Palestinians.
Congress passed a law mandating the move, but the President can delay the move, and always chooses to do so.
The Israelis came up with a solution.
They moved a black family next door to the Tel Aviv embassy.
Quill by Eva Harley
Blue eyes drift, a wistful gaze drawn through cracked glass to the desolate street below. With quill in hand, rolled ever so slowly between aged fingers, echoes of previous times drift over her thoughts forming a shield, obscuring the present.
An unsteady lift of the hand raises the instrument above paper yellowed with age, the shaft devoid of ink but unnoticed. A soft sigh escapes as invisible words are scratched upon the surface in a flurry. Day and again the ritual resumes, written words spoken to echoes of the past. Alone, the quill and times gone by her only companions.
Weekly Challenge #639-Quill
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:
TOM
Before the Parting Mist
My dearest beloved, frozen fingers raise blade to sharpen this quill to drive home the point of our company’s last engagement, in the hopes our first engagement proves all the more sustaining. It is the memory of sun on your gentle face, and that nearly perceivable smile when we first walked under the dwarf maples at your father summer house on the lake. As restless as the leaves of autumn are the men, and I fear equally likely to end in piled drifts. Know that as the battle horn sounds that my heart beat in time with yours. Zackery Maupin
LIZZIE
The name of the exclusive, terribly expensive event was Quill. No better name than Quill for a writing event, she thought. The turn out was better than she expected. The room was full. The problems started when one of the attendees tripped and hit his head on the giant quill that was placed in the corner for decoration. He split his head. Blood all over. Everyone left in a hurry, waving their hands in the air. Well, she thought, that was easy money. She didn’t even have to host the damn thing. She packed up her stuff and left town.
CHARLIE
I wrote my first draft with a crow quill.
Dipping the crow’s wing into a bottle of India ink was awkward and messy to say the least. The crow squawked and squirmed for a full half hour while I struggled to finish my story assignment.
I was not going to wait until the crow moulted a feather I could use, so I netted a big crow on the greenhouse roof. I took him inside my studio where I had set up a table, a very big roll of butcher paper and a bottle of ink.
Adult crows moult every summer.
TURA
Quill
———
My very esteemed Lord Palamon,
It was a pleasure to receive your letter, which of course I had a student read for me. Did you use a cockatrice quill? Perhaps nibbed with a basilisk talon? You must have had commerce with higher- dimensional entities for the ink, for I found his intestines elaborately knotted, yet the ends not severed. Well done!
I have his soul in a bottle. One day I may reanimate him in your corpse.
No doubt you will evade the spell woven into this letter. Of my best pupil I would expect no less.
Cordially,
Quirrell (Professor)
JEFFREY
Judicial Tradition
by Jeffrey Fischer
A tradition in the U.S. Supreme Court involves placing quill pens at each of the counsel tables every day the court is in session. Many attorneys, especially those arguing for the first time before the court, take one of the pens as a souvenir.
Of course, the use of quill pens is not confined to genteel reminders of days past. Those things are sharp! During particularly heated arguments, opposing lawyers have been known to stab one another. “Just making a point,” one lawyer quipped as he plunged the nib of his pen into his opponent’s eye.
RICHARD
Unwrote
I wouldn’t really call myself a writer. Not because I don’t regard my musings as literary or worthwhile; simply because it’s been a long time since I wrote anything at all, really.
I type, tap or swipe, aided and abetted, (and frequently frustrated), by predictive text.
My page is neither vellum, nor paper, but a pixelated screen.
I’m not a writer, I’m a typerapipest!
Maybe one day, when I’m retired, with time on my hands, I’ll pick up a pen and notebook and write for real…
Better still, shave my head, hand me a quill, and call me a bard!
JON
Before You Write
By
Jon DeCles
First you must obtain a quill. A large one from a turkey is ideal. Easy to work with. You must dry it thoroughly and clean the part you will be using. Then put it in a bottle of water to soak. You will need a pen knife of course, small and very sharp. Didn’t you know that is why it is called a pen knife? Well, yes, because you use it to cut pens. You cut the tip off the quill at an angle, then remove the papery filing. Scoop out the reservoir, then cut the channel from the tip.
SERENDIPITY
I’m always looking for new, innovative approaches to my craft. It’s so easy to become predictable, bland, and boring!
You’re constantly telling me that nobody likes boring…
Unless it’s into soft flesh with a blunt drill bit!
But I’ve been there, done that, and for some time I’ve been looking for something new.
I decided to pay a visit to the zoo – see if I could find some inspiration there, and that’s where I found the porcupine quill.
And, as I plunge it into your eyeball and pierce your brain, maybe you’ll think twice about calling me boring again!
NORVAL JOE
As the bus rolled toward the school, Billlbert thought a party, alone, under the guidance of Linoliumanda’s unhinged father didn’t sound like fun.
“Oh. I forgot. My mom said I can’t go to a party unless I have an actual invitation,” Billbert lied.
“Okay,” Linoliumanda said. “Give me your quill.”
“My what?” he asked.
“Your quill. You know. A pen. I have my parchment here to write your invitation.” She held up a piece of binder paper.
“What? Is this a Harry Potter birthday party?” Billbert asked.
“Of course. I’m dressing as Luna Lovegood. You can come as Harry Potter.”
PLANET Z
A quill from the legendary phoenix bird is considered the greatest of all writing implements.
A pen of such legendary stature demands an equally legendary ink.
Nothing less than the ink from the great sea kraken will do.
No ordinary inkwell should contain your kraken ink.
I’d think a hollowed-out meteorite is expected.
Did you think that quill would remain sharp?
You have to sharpen it with a knife made from the tooth of a dragon.
To blot the ink, the hide of a unicorn…
Fuck this shit. Give me that Bic pen.
Now how much was the pizza again?
Kidnapper
The kidnapper was a total cliche.
White unmarked van.
Fake beard and glasses.
Lured the kid in with candy and a story about a lost puppy.
Just a few seconds with a chloroforum-soaked rag, and he had his prey.
He’d soundproofed his basement, and tested it by turning on the stereo as loud as he could, and trying to hear it from the front door.
Perfect.
“Nobody can hear you,” the kidnapper says. “You can scream for hours, and nobody will hear you.”
“Siri, call nine one one,” said the kid.
He’d forgotten to check the kid for a phone!
Defollow
I defollowed the Trump supporters, because they supported a serial fraudster and failed businessman riding a reality-television popularity wave.
I defollowed the Cruz supporters, because they supported a homophobic misogynistic evangelical hypocrite.
I defollowed the Sanders supporters, because they supported an unprincipled charlatan who ran as a Democrat only for the campaign money and party mechanism.
And I defollowed the Clinton supporters, because they supported a amoral failed diplomat with blood on her hands, who vilified victims of rape and sexual abuse while claiming poverty from within a New York mansion.
My timelines empty, I took up gardening.
Mmmmmmmmm… peppermint!
Loyalty to the Crown
Here, in The Kingdom, we swear our loyalty to The Crown.
No, not The King. The King is just the man who wears The Crown.
The Crown uses The King as a host, speaking through the body and consuming it slowly.
Until a new King is needed.
Prisoners from the jail.
The sick. The old.
And those who refuse to swear their loyalty to The Crown.
You can try to resist The Crown’s power, but it’ll just hurt more.
Give in.
Let The Crown take over.
Just as it has taken The Kingdom over.
And wisely ruled us for centuries.
Batman vs Superman
In a fight between Batman and Superman, who wins?
Not me.
I’m an insurance agent. And I have clients in Gotham and Metropolis.
Every time these goons go at it, my phone rings off the hook.
The dead, the injured. Life insurance claims. Medical claims.
Property claims, too. Collapsed buildings. Totaled cars. Shattered windows.
And looting. Always the looting.
Every new policy I resell now includes Batman and Superman under “Acts of God.”
I guess it’s impossible to sue Batman and Superman.
The phone rings. Must be another fight.
I pick up the phone.
“Wayne Industries Insurance Agency,” I answer.
Offshore
Bob started his own business a while back.
He’s sick of paying taxes, so he looked into an offshore tax haven.
He bought a boat, loaded his company on to it, and pulled up the anchor.
“NO MORE TAXES!” he cheered. “SCREW YOU, AMERICA!”
Things went okay for about a day, until government lawyers showed up.
“This extension cord is plugged into an American power source,” they said. “And your cell phone uses an American cell tower.”
So, he mounted solar panels, bought a satellite phone, and proudly cheered again.
Until he hit a rock and needed the Coast Guard.
My team doesn’t tell me…
My team doesn’t tells me when something changes.
It’s not that they forget to tell me.
When I walk into the room, they stop talking.
Or, if it’s important, they stop me in the hall and just stare at me.
Then they follow up with blank emails and memos.
Once, they hired a singing telegram, and the dancing girl stood there and stared at me.
Then, they hired a skywriter to fly his airplane around without releasing any smoke.
Another airplane flew around without a trailing banner.
As long as they keep filling out my paychecks properly, I don’t mind.
Weekly Challenge #638 – Chance
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:
LIZZIE
Take a chance, she said, perhaps you’ll win. And he took a chance, so full of himself. After all, he was super fit. He was given a small boat and told to row South, that he would find the beach. He did. The place was amazing. First few days were easy. Then, a terrifying storm arrived. Everything was damp. He couldn’t find any food anymore. Instead of building a shelter while he was strong, he sunbathed. And then they couldn’t find him. He was in the wrong beach. Take a chance… He almost died. He did win his life back.
CHARLIE
Chance has been my support dog for the last five years. He was a former detection dog for the local police department, but was retired when his handler made detective. I knew Chance when he was a pup, fresh from the breeder in The Netherlands.
Chance is solid black, weighs eighty nine pounds, and has an IQ higher than most of my friends.
Chance alerts me when I am impolite to strangers, when I backtalk my superiors, and when I feel like slamming some pissant in the face. He saved me a couple of times from flying off the handle.
#2
A typical game of chance in my town, is riding a bicycle on the public streets. We have an inordinate amount of over or under medicated seniors driving around. They go the wrong way on city streets, drive peeking through the spokes of the steering wheel, don’t use signals, drive with impaired vision, and with deficient reflexes.
Some of the poor devils leave the house and get lost at the store a half mile away. They forget why they are there, lock their keys in the ignition, leave their lights on, and leave their pets sweltering in the hot car.
#3
What am I thinking? I am writing a story with the cue word, chance. I am not intimidated, nor am I worried that I will not be able to come up with 100 words that include “chance” in the text.
I went to a summer camp when I was twelve. It was for rich kids and was called “Chance Ranch”. We were given guns when we got off the bus. Everyone had their own Kevlar vest. For the next two weeks we learned how to get along, control our tempers, and discourage counselors from cupping our balls in the pool.
TOM
Beyond Laid Back
My favorite line from Lord of the Rings is: A Chance Meeting, as we say in the Shire. It reminds me of life in Santa Cruz, California’s idea of the Shire. Once I witnessed the following on a bus ride. A young man looks up to see a young girl get on, breaks into a wide smile. They talk for a few minutes. It is obvious from their conversation they have lost track of each other’s whereabouts. As the guy departs the bus, he asks for her phone number. She declines, tell him, till we meet again. So Shire, fursure.
RICHARD
No chance
“No chance!”, I said when they asked me to join the office lottery syndicate.
“Seriously, do you realise just how much the odds are stacked against you? You’re more likely to be hit by lightning, or die falling out of bed!”
I decided to save my money, and laughed at the stupidity of the rest of those fools, throwing theirs away in the hope of those elusive numbers coming up.
Of course, I was laughing on the other side of my face when they did.
“Give me a break guys… You won’t miss a few thousand.”
Their response?
“No chance!”
SERENDIPITY
Some of the most momentous, life changing happenings occur completely by chance.
The chance encounter whilst stood at the bar: An encounter that leads to romance, and a lifetime partnership.
The chance remark in the heat of debate: A remark that starts the thought process that leads to groundbreaking innovation.
The chance interruption… The traffic jam; the diversion; the spilled drink; the wrong turn. The interruption that saves you from the disaster that lay, unseen in your future.
But not today.
Because today, chance has brought you my way.
I am your destiny, and I never leave things to chance.
JON
Game Show: Chance or Quit
By
Jon DeCles
“Mr. Kelly, you have a chance to win twenty billion squgwarts! Is that exciting?”
“Very exciting, Sir.”
“If you fail at this stage of the game, you will fall a thousand feet into an oubliette at the bottom of which are millions of ravenous, flesh-eating accountants? You got that?”
“That makes it all the more exciting!” said Mr. Kelly, who was already covered with a dark green fungus from the previous round.
“Here’s the question then: Why is a Raven Like a Writing Desk? Will you take the chance or will you quite?”
“It’s a chance I have to take!”
JEFFREY
The Final Adventure
by Jeffrey Fischer
The starship shuddered from another blast from the plasma monster. “Captain! Shields are down to 20%! If we don’t find a way to reverse course, we’re finished!” The captain drummed his fingers on his command chair, considering the options open to him. Direct remaining power to the engines? Tried and failed. Ditto blasting out. The bridge crew looked expectantly at their leader, but the captain’s expression was grim.
“Gentlemen, we’re out of options. It’s been my honor to work with every one of you. Comms, send a final message to HQ, warning other vessels to avoid this system.”
As the close-up shot of the captain faded and an ad for Ivory soap took its place, Allison gripped my hand. She asked “How will they defeat the monster? This is the end for all of them, isn’t it?”
“Not a chance. This season’s ratings have been through the roof. I expect to see previews of next season any day now.”
PHILIP
“Well. You’re welcome to come, if you want,” Linoliumanda said to Roderick.
“Not a chance,” he sneered and moved to the back of the bus.
“Is it really just us two at the party?” Billbert gulped.
Linoliumanda joined him.
“Yeah. I don’t have many friends.” She sighed.
“Why not? You seem nice to me,” Billbert said, discretely sniffing the air for unusual smells.
“Thanks.” She smiled. “I think most kids are afraid of my father. Sometimes he shouts and threatens.”
“Really? Doesn’t that bother you?”
“Oh, no. He never threatens or yells at me,” she laughed. “Only people I’m with.”
PLANET Z
There’s always a chance of a bird strike at an airport.
Tens of thousands of starlings live in the woods and ravines around the airport, and they sometimes fly into the runways and the engines of planes taking off.
So, we send out the Falconmaster with his team of falcons.
Birds naturally avoid birds of prey, so they stayed away from the runways.
There hadn’t been a bird strike in over ten years.
The university came up with a technological solution.
A robotic falcon drone.
It worked well, until someone hijacked the signal.
And ran it into a plane’s engine.