God warned Adam and Eve not to taste the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge.
So, Adam chopped down the tree and burned it.
“That’s not the point of this,” God said, planting another tree. “Now, don’t eat it.”
Eve reached for a fruit, picked it, and then mashed it into a facial scrub.
“I think it might work better as a shampoo,” she said, washing up in the creek.
Adam grunted, chopped down the tree, and chewed the bark.
“Hah!” said God. “You’re tasting it!”
“It’s the bark, not the fruit,” said Adam.
God grumbled and planted another tree.
Damien
Things weren’t good between them.
All her friends told her to leave him.
And she did.
She left him breathless.
Standing there, turning blue, clutching his neck.
Trying to gasp for air.
His eyes, wide in shock.
He passed out and fell to the floor.
She just stood there, watching him die.
And he did.
He died.
Mouth open, staring without sight.
She looked into his eyes, wondering.
What was it he saw?
What were his last thoughts?
Was he sorry for all he did to her?
One punch had crushed his windpipe.
Breathless. Speechless. Defenseless.
And she was free.
Excitement on the moon
Usually, the agency only transfers single employees, but they really needed me on site, so I got the transfer notice.
Marie’s excited. But you would think that kids would be excited at the prospect of moving to the moon.
“But what about my friends?”
“We just finished the treehouse!”
“Why can’t we bring the dog?”
“I was going to be varsity this year!”
So, we’re leaving them with my brother Fred’s family, and we’ll check in on them over videolink during the assignment.
Besides, without them around, we’ll be able to try out this low-gravity positions book.
Marie’s really excited.
Weekly Challenge #587 – MONSTER
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:
JEFFREY
Deceptive Advertising
by Jeffrey Fischer
I eyed the can with suspicion. “Monster” the can read. “Energy drink.” That was my goal: I wanted to be a real monster, scaring the living daylights out of people and not be responsible for my actions. I popped the can open and chugged it down. And waited. I felt jittery, but nothing more. How disappointing. I swallowed the contents of a second can and felt dizzy. Too much caffeine for sure, but I felt no more monstrous than before.
I looked in the mirror: scales, a forked tongue, a barbed tail. Sure I looked good, I looked the part, but I really couldn’t muster any rage. I considered myself a failure to my family. The company was getting a nasty letter for its deceptive advertising.
TOM
Not Tuff Enough
A long time ago in a movie theater far, far away I sat with my friend to view the second Alien film. We laughed, “How much scarier could it be then the acid dripping, face grabbing, chest erupting original monster?” Well, so said the seasoned boomer movie goers. There’s a scene when the Badie has trapped Ripple and the little girl in a med lap …. released the infant Alien on wheel who scream around the floor. I’d like to say we calmly remained in our seats snickering, no we screamed and fully jumped off the floor into our seats.
CHARLIE
Marcel was a monster. His idea of fun was to play practical jokes on everyone. His jokes were cruel and someone usually got hurt physically or emotionally.
Sometimes his jokes backfired, but never enough to discourage him from playing another joke on someone.
He would draw a full ounce of Super Glue into a syringe, and shoot it into someone’s car door lock or between the driver’s window and the rubber gasket so the mechanism would cease to open the window.
He was caught by a Samoan wrestler while vandalizing his Mercedes. An ounce of glue went up Marcel’s stern.
2.
The monster that dwelled inside demanded sugar and electricity. Cold maple syrup drenched a frozen banana, eaten with a fork. This was embellished by hooking wires from the socket to clamps affixed to a metal tub with an inch of water in it. The monster insisted that he step into the tub for as long as he could control his spasms, and then lie on the kitchen floor and abuse himself.
Lamont started the day like this. Every day. He lived a long life, friendless and detached until he visited the coffeehouse where he was the life of the party.
RICHARD
Bedtime
As I child, I was a terror – my parents despaired they would ever control my behaviour.
Eventually, they turned to cruel and inhuman means to get me to toe the line. They told me that I really should be afraid of the dark and the bogeyman was actively looking for me; they warned me the monster under the bed was real, and he wanted to trap me and kill me!
All attempts to get me into bed at night, and keep me there.
What they didn’t know, was that the monster under the bed, was absolutely terrified… of me!
JON
Carnivale
By
Jon DeCles
Clowns are monsters decked out so that we can laugh. The unexpected that would terrify us if we found one at the back door at midnight.
Carnivals always play on our fears and our desire to be frightened, just a little bit. Even the most cheerful pictures conceal a ride with heart-stopping disorientation.
If the ticket taker had worn a comical plaid suit, his presence in the mirror maze would have seemed explicable, part of the show.
It was late at night, and I didn’t recall many customers. His eyes held me as my heart beat faster. Could I escape?
SERENDIPITY
People call her a monster, but Brian Transeau’s music in the movie telling the Aileen Wuornos story is breathtakingly beautiful.
I listen to it as I drift off to sleep at night; it helps me relax; and it inspires me…
It plays quietly in the background as I plan my own killing spree.
Not because I’m a monster – far from it – I seek beauty and peace from life, just like the music as it fills my thoughts.
My only wish, is for Transeau to write an equally beautiful soundtrack when they make the movie of my own life.
TURA
Monster
———
Anna burst in and screamed, “There’s an alien monster on board!”
As captain, I knew exactly what to do. “Jenkins,” I said to the most annoying crew member, “investigate the mysterious noises in the sewer line on deck 27. Metal man” (I call our synthetic person that to annoy it), “secretly work against us. Everyone else, split up and wander into dark corners to get picked off one by one.”
Of course the monster would get me at some point (because War Is Hell), but in the end Ripley would succeed in blasting it into space.
What could go wrong?
LIZZIE
The slightly cross-eyed doll sat on the floor, her head rotating while a toy train inexplicably hovered nearby. No child was in sight and no one could tell who the doll belonged to.
They had paid a big chunk of money and everyone was fine with a bit of mystery.
When the monster jumped from behind a door, the guide screamed “Run!” and they all laughed nervously instead.
The guide later told the media that he did try to warn them.
The slightly cross-eyed doll still sits on the floor, her head rotating while a toy train inexplicably hovers nearby.
LAIEANNA
“Roadkill”
The third run at the monster truck rally was Albert’s time to shine.
He bolted into the muddy arena weaving among the moving vehicles.
Filth splashed, Albert flailed his arms and roared to get the crowd’s
attention. For several minutes, he danced with danger, dashing and
dodging until his foot slipped. Albert fell. Big Bertha rolled a
tire over him. The crowd voiced their horror and watched with morbid
fascination as Bertha slowly backed up to reveal Albert’s corpse, but
the rail thin man popped right up, already shouting his persona.
“Flat Jack available for parties, pranks, and general shocks.”
NORVAL JOE
Frankenstein was not the monster. He was a scientist, a doctor, who got caught up in the furor of his era. Everyone back then was trying to find an elixir of life, a universal solvent, and a cure for worts. Vivisection, grave robbing, and reanimating the dead was just something a guy did to gain a foothold in the scientific community.
The creature that Frankenstein created wasn’t a monster either. He was just multiple victims of circumstance, all rolled into one big guy.
The real monster is the liberal news media casting a negative slant on good old fashioned science.
PLANET Z
They say that the Universal Monster movies represent different stages of life.
Frankenstein represents our youth, because he is so innocent and fresh… until he throws a tantrum.
The Wolfman represents our adolescence, with hair growing out of weird unexpected places and unusual appetites.
Dracula represents the cool suave sex god we all wish to be in our adulthood.
And The Mummy represents the slow creepy horror of Death approaching.
All of the Bride and Son movies represent family obligations.
And then there’s the Abbott and Costello Meet movies.
They represent the need to do shameful things for a paycheck.
Shoe Shopping
When things are slow at work, my coworkers chit-chat about online shoe deals.
To drown out the noise, I put on my headphones and watch webinars and online university courses about writing.
Recently, I needed to buy shoes, so I went to Academy for my New Balance 659’s in size nine and a half.
There was one box of them at the store.
I opened it. It contained two worn-out sneakers.
Some asshole had worn and walked out that pair.
So, I went to Amazon and bought the pair.
It was cheaper and easier.
And the cats got two boxes.
The Last Meal
I have fond memories of eating grilled cheese sandwiches with tomato soup.
Mom used to make that for me after school. Or when I wasn’t feeling well.
Sure, it was just Wonder bread, Kraft american cheese, and Campbell’s tomato soup, but how those came together, it was magic.
So, when the warden asked me what I wanted for my last meal, that’s what I asked for.
And my mother brought it to me.
“Thank you, Mom,” I said for the last time, weeping.
And it was delicious. So delicious.
But not as delicious as when I killed and ate her.
My future self
My future self sits across from me, in the restaurant booth we agreed to meet in.
He had a gun, and I had a gun.
I had paradox on my side. If he shot me, he’d be shooting himself.
But if I shot him, I never would allow myself to accept this meeting, and another paradox would occur.
So, the guns remain undrawn.
He told me what I needed to know, and left.
His suit looked nice. And the looked good for his age.
I looked at the list of investments, called up my stock app, and began to buy.
Chasing a ghost
It has been five months.
I am haunted. I cannot let go.
When I walk outside, I look for you.
Around corners. Under bushes. Along the fence.
You’re not there. You’re never there.
I search the pet rescue sites, chasing your ghost.
Every black cat, young or old. It doesn’t matter.
No, this one is a kitten.
No, this one has green eyes.
No.
I will never find you, because you’re not out there.
Gone is gone. And nothing will change that.
But I will keep looking.
And I will keep searching.
Because I am haunted, and cannot let go.
Succubus Club
Victorian London.
Carriages, top hats, gaslamps, and cobblestone streets.
Every Saturday, The Succubus Club gathers together.
The valet takes their canes and topcoats, and guides them…
To the study.
To the staircase.
To the cellar.
She is waiting there.
Over the centuries, she has survived.
She is the last of her kind.
Her sisters, loving one after another.
Leaving a trail to follow.
Discovered, hunted down, burned.
Unlike them, she loves many.
And they all love her. And protect her. And hide her.
The mayor arrives. The chief of police.
Captains of industry.
And they are so very happy together.
Run on time
They say that Mussolini made the trains run on time.
Yes, it’s true. But not in the way you think.
Because coal, diesel, and wood were needed for the war effort, Mussolini hired physicist Enrico Fermi to build a train with an engine fueled by time.
Fermi worked day and night on the project until it was ready.
Mussolini was delighted… until he learned that Fermi’s wife was a Jew.
The Fermis fled Rome on the train, arriving in America.
Enrico worked on the Manhattan Project, thinking he was building another train.
He was just as surprised as the Japanese.