The 100 Word Stories Podcast

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:

• Norval Joe
• Tom
• Munsi
• Jeffrey
• Charlie
• Richard
• Ami
• Aubrey
• Serendipity
• Tura
• Lizzie
• Danny
• Planet Z

NORVAL JOE

It’s been said that ,Fact is stranger than fiction.

For example…

There is a South America bat that lives in Andean caves that can neither see nor hear. It navigates by its acute sense of smell and actually lures its prey to it by imitating insect pheromones in the gas that it passes.

There is a six toed, brown, tree sloth that is so fat and moves so slowly that they have been captured and used as throw pillows without having to kill and skin them.

In retrospect, since I made up these examples, maybe fiction is stranger than fact.

TOM

There Will Be Hell to Pay

Nearly all hope way gone when the stranger road into the valley. Mary Ann
was the first to see him, and like wild fire that sighting ran through the
town. He didn’t say a word as he tied the pale horse to the front of the
dry goods store. He whisper in the ear of Old Ezra, who sent Young Ezra to
the backroom for the case of silver bullets. The stranger carefully loaded
seven colts and made his way to the sheriff’s office. Propped in a chair
outside the jail he waited for dusk. When darkness fell, they came.

MUNSI

The Doors

By Christopher Munroe

People are strange, when you’re a stranger.

Faces look ugly, when you are ugly.

Women seem wicked, when you are wicked.

Streets are an evil place, when you’re evil.

When you’re strange, faces come out and are strange.

When you’re strange, no one remembers you’re strange.

When you’re strange.

When you’re strange…

Or something like that. I’ll admit, I’ve never paid close attention to the song.

I did enough drugs in high school to believe Pink Floyd were the greatest band in history, but I didn’t, and will never, do enough drugs to believe that Jim Morrison was a poet…

JEFFREY

Pilgrimage
by Jeffrey Fischer

The stranger ambled into the village. His eyes shifted left, then right, but he saw no one. This was the first habitation he had found in days, and he was hoping to restock his food and water with the little cash that remained.

He opened the door to the general store and was assailed by the smell of death. A woman, presumably the proprietress, lay on the floor in a state of decay. He bent over her, trying to discover whether her death was from natural causes. Pustules on her face suggested some kind of pox. It wasn’t a stretch to think the rest of the village shared her fate.

With no wasted movements, he took the supplies he needed and set off. The next few days would show whether he also brought anything unwanted with him.

Stranger than Fiction
by Jeffrey Fischer

Robert Heinlein was a towering figure in the Golden Age of science fiction. He wrote for children as well as adults. He wrote space opera tales of rockets and colonization of the Moon and wars with aliens, but he also wrote on more serious themes in his “future history” series, and in later novels such as “Stranger in a Strange Land” and “Time Enough for Love.” Many teenaged boys were fascinated with the themes in these books, perhaps not least that of removal of restraints on sexual behavior. An endless parade of hot, willing women seemed like a good idea to the mind of the teenaged male. Unfortunately, as they were to learn, that particular conceit might have been the biggest fiction of all.

CHARLIE

My shaman was a total stranger when he first started teaching me how to get high without drugs. He sold cars, but he accumulated some money, and had a nice house in the hills. His method used crystals and stones. When placed on various chakras, including The Kundalini, my shaman would wait until the stones absorbed the forces, then he would pick the largest stone and make a tea out of it, drinking it down quickly while it was still full of all the essential juices. Those of us in the class thought he was a bit of a perv.

#2

When I was in kindergarten, Mum admonished me about talking to strangers. She described Stranger Danger saying I was destined to get accosted, kidnapped, beaten, killed, then gang raped if I talked to any strangers. She put the fear in me early on, as I was wary of speaking to anyone at all if I were out alone, or if I got separated from either parent when shopping or out for a walk. After school today, I was at the corner and a white van pulled alongside. The driver motioned to me to get inside. I never uttered a word.

#3

She grew stranger and stranger as the years passed and as she continued smoking crack. She lost things as she moved through the aisles at Walmart, and by the time she was at the check stand, she started screaming and babbling that someone stole her baby, her dog, her purse, and her coat. She would curl into a tight ball, tuck in her legs, curl up on the floor, and bawl until the manager and assistant manager put her in a shopping cart and took her to the parking lot. Crazy Daisey was never locked up or ordered into rehab.

#4

Bart bragged about getting a bit of strange when he was in England. He went to a dance in Hoddesdon, and met a pert young lady. When he approached her and asked her for a dance, she told him to fuck off. He busted out in laughter and I suppose she was so shocked by his reaction, her defenses were dropped, so they danced for the rest of the night. He slipped her a couple of Roofies he always carried in a little, metal pill box he wore around his neck, and it was straight to the snooch in minutes.

RICHARD

Dragon rage

After the many trials he’d endured so far, the hobbit was no stranger to danger, but this was by far the closest he, or his companions had come to death.

Hurriedly, Boggins started stuffing his pockets with gold, only to find, with a sinking heart, that the weight made it impossible to run.

Another roar, this time closer, filled the forest and, suddenly, his travelling companions appeared, fleeing for their lives.

“Do something!” they cried, tearing past.

Then the dragon was upon him!

Flinging handfuls of gold as far as he could, the hobbit shouted: “Fetch!” before diving for cover!

AMI

The SL Stranger Strangler

I fondle the soft, black, knitted ski mask in my left hand, the piano wire stretched between two wooden grips in the other.

Puzzle pieces dropped in chats over time belied your identity. Sincere and sweetly seductive declarations shared between us were only means to your satisfied end. Now, I’ll have mine. No, you’re not the first.

The Greyhound hums and closes the gap; have your fantasy with another. You’ll be mine soon.

My garrote, my equalizer; your size and strength no match. I’ve known the ultimate orgasm as fingers claw at the unrelenting strangle-hold, bleeding, eyes pleading. You really never knew us.

AUBREY

My best friend takes me down rabbit holes now and then. Most of the time I don’t even realize she’s done it until we’re already falling. She takes my hand, and leaps headfirst down, and I can’t help but be pulled along with her.

But I like that sensation, free falling towards an adventure, even though I’m terrified to jump. Too many people in the past pushed me down the rabbit hole but didn’t jump.

Now I like the thrill when things get curiouser and curiouser. Strange and then stranger.

It’s not an adventure, unless things get a little weird.

SERENDIPITY

That person, staring at you as you squirm uncomfortably on the bus.

That person, pressing in, far too closely, as you wait in the queue.

That person, waving their fist from behind the wheel as they cut in front at the junction.

That person, who bumped you, spilling your drink, before melting into the crowd.

That person, you wave to across the street, only to realise – acutely embarrassed – you don’t know them at all.

That person, you pass in the subway, without looking before hurrying away.

That person: The perfect stranger, nameless and faceless.

That person, is me.

TURA

Stranger

———

When the gods were new, they assembled together to know what they should do.

“I have made a strange thing,” said one. And he showed a vast universe of whirling balls of fire.

Another said, “I will make a stranger.” And he punctured that universe with many holes, and inside each he showed that self-same universe reflected.

A third said, “I will make yet stranger.” On a tiny lump of rock he created a host of small figures that fought among themselves, and took themselves to be gods.

“This is the strangest thing,” they agreed. “Let us call it ‘Man’.”

LIZZIE

“I’m sorry,” said the stranger before hanging up.
She was perplexed. Probably a wrong number, but still… a bit creepy.
When she turned off the light, she didn’t notice the slight creaking of the entrance door and a shadow walking towards her bed. Drowsy, she only felt a slight sting on her neck.
No one ever saw her again.
The only thing they found was a card on her nightstand saying “Gone”.

She would come back, years later. She too would call someone to say “I’m sorry”. That was the price to be free. And she had to pay it.

DANNY

I’m a stranger in the eyes of myself. All the hopes and dreams of my obnoxious youth has faded in the cold harsh rain of reality. Dis-barred, dis-enfranchised, dis-owned, dis-loved, dis-respected, simply dissed by every level of society. The words of truth carry a very heavy price, because the words will not be heard by the weak, cursed by the enfranchised, and dismissed by those who actually own literally everything we take for granted. We bought into the lie of freedom and justice for all, when in reality, there is just the fictional liberal boogieman we are trained to kick.

PLANET Z

The fortune cookie said: “Help a stranger.”

After I paid my bill and walked out the door, there was a homeless guy standing there asking for help.

“Hi stranger,” he said. “Can you help me? I need five bucks.”

Which explained why I got a fortune cookie at a shoe repair shop.

And it wasn’t as much a cookie as an orange rind wrapped around shoe cardboard.

The fortune was written on it in shaky block print. The same as the bum’s sign.

“Just five bucks,” he said.

I helped him into the street with a kick to the ass.

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
• Charlie
• Munsi
• Richard
• Lizzie
• Ami
• Aubrey
• Serendipity
• Tom
• Tura
• Norval Joe
• Planet Z

JEFFREY

The Decline of Civilization
by Jeffrey Fischer

In downtown Washington, as in any tourist area, cameras are ubiquitous. Tourists snap away, taking home reminders of their trips. Back in the day, though, the expense of film made everyone consider carefully each click of the shutter.

Today, the horrible combination of digital cameras and human narcissism means that everyone takes selfies, invariably in stupid poses. You’ve seen them: the goofy grin, the peace sign, standing on one leg. The culmination of this terrible trend is the selfie stick. Only the fact that museums have started banning those abominations gives me a glimmer of hope for humanity.

Propaganda Film
by Jeffrey Fischer

Looking straight into the camera, Lieutenant Sheaffer began to read the propaganda script his captors had forced on him. He had considered resisting, but instead designed a better plan. He recalled Commander, later Admiral, Jeremiah Denton, who was taken prisoner during the Vietnam War and who used a series of eye blinks to spell out “torture” in Morse code as he read Viet Cong propaganda. Like Denton, the young Lieutenant used Morse code to blink out a message. This one simply read, “assholes.”

Back in the U.S., no one could agree whether Sheaffer was referring to his Iranian captors or the spineless politicians back home.

CHARLIE

They say cameras don’t lie, but mine lied like a rug; like a cheap watch. I’d take a picture of a beautiful woman, and when I got home and looked at the photos, the light was wrong, the photo was blurred, or the top of her head was cut off. My camera was a prefabricator. It was a Leica M-3 and I suspected as much. I bought it in small shop in Bonn, Germany from an ex Nazi. I should have avoided the place, as it was frequented by skinheads and lots of older men with glasses and brown overcoats.

#2

The ultra-miniature camera was cleverly integrated into the frame of my thick glasses. I could trigger the camera and microphone with a small, radio device in my pocket. I’d be markedly rude to someone just to get a close-up of their expected, enraged expression and their explosive reaction. Often, I went out of my way to be purposefully rude to the barista or the waitress at the cafe. This morning, the last image that was recorded was the fork approaching the center of my forehead as I made a particularly ugly remark to the obese server at Wo Lee’s Restaurant.

#3

My new camera is the shit. It has a dozen modes, takes two flash chips, has built in Wi-Fi, accepts voice commands, prompts subjects to smile, to stay still, to move left or right, higher or lower, can take ultraviolet and infrared images, emits a signal if more than ten feet away from me, has gyro stabilization, ear and mic jacks, wireless charging capacity, and it can send a signal to outboard recording discs or to a cloud account. It features an ultrasonic sensor cleaning “motor”, etc., etc. I found the camera in the back seat of my landlord’s Lincoln.

MUNSI

My Camera

By Christopher Munroe

I’ve bought a Polaroid camera.

And film, obviously. It would’ve been pointless without film.

I bought it just in case I meet a girl with brown hair and glasses, who loves The Smiths and wants to teach me to love life again the way a child does.

We’ll lay by the river, talking about our hopes and dreams while I snap Polaroids of the two of us, falling in love.

I don’t have a specific bespectacled brunette in mind, yet, I bought it just in case…

After all, if I ever DO meet her, I’d hate not to be ready…

RICHARD

#1 – Camera

You know all those moments when you just wish you had a camera with you, only you haven’t?

That’s the story of my life!

Those once in a lifetime opportunities to capture history in the making… But the camera’s still in the car.

Those freak occurrences, when you’re in the right place, at exactly the right time… And your camera isn’t.

Those iconic shots that get put on t-shirts and are recognisable the world over… If only you’d brought the camera.

Happens to me, time after time.

I’m beginning to think that press photographer was definitely the wrong career choice.

#2 – The Gospel According to Norman: The Parable of the Tourist

It so happened that a certain stranger to the country was separated from his family and found himself lost in the city.

It came to pass that good fortune led him to the temple square, where he gazed in wonderment at the great house of the Almighty, built by the toil of faithful men.

Wishing to preserve the moment, he brought forth his camera, calling upon a passer-by to assist. As he posed before the temple gates, the rogue made off with his camera, disappearing into the crowd.

Be not fooled – though the temple is holy, man is not.

LIZZIE

Lillie was bored. Work, home, the occasional walk at the beach. It was during one of these walks that she spotted the camera. She looked around. The beach was practically deserted. A few surfers challenged the waves. She grabbed the camera and wiped the sand away. Then, she clicked the power button. And there it was, someone else’s life. The family get-together. A birthday and a wedding. The pregnant girlfriend and the beach, this beach. Suddenly, Lillie’s life wasn’t boring any more. She had to find these people. Yes, and in the meantime, she’d be the keeper of their past.

AMI

Hair, make-up, outfit perfect. Vultures, pixel whores, candid money-shot stalkers. Bounty sold to the highest bidder for gold and recognition. Not the halos-of-light and soft-shadows image. No, they covet that moment when the wind is angry and a memorable contortion belies natural grace.

Posture perfect, chin up, sparkle on and moving gingerly to the elevator, my eyes scan, anticipating the sneak attack. I smooth and position before the lobby doors open. Nothing. Stealth bastards.

Realization won’t deflate my outer calm. I move confidently into the spotlight of a chandelier and tap, smiling at my Verizon LG.

AUBREY

Most of the time when people see me wandering around with my nice camera, they figure I’m into photography.

I guess they’re not wrong, technically.

A part of me wonders if that would be better, maybe easier, than what I actually do.

Sitting in a car, outside a seedy motel or a bar isn’t exactly glamorous work. But catching people at their not-so-finest moments? It pays the bills.

I suppose maybe I am a photographer, the subjects just don’t know their secrets are no longer secrets. It’s not art, but it is lucrative. That will have to do for now.

SERENDIPITY

That bright flash you saw out of the corner of your eye was sunlight catching my lens.

Foolish of me really – I should take more care – it would be such a shame to give the game away now.

I’ve been watching you for weeks: Camera documenting every movement and every moment as your life unfolds through my viewfinder.

I know your routines, what you do, where and when you go – there’s not a thing I don’t know about you.

Your own, personal, private camera shoot.

And, one of these days…

I’m going to shoot you for real!

TOM

I Am a Camera

Most kid’s first camera was a Kodak Box Brownie. Not yours truly. At the
tender act of 10 I was shooting with a twin lens Zeiss Ikon Ikoflex, a
camera my father had purchase in Japan, during the Korean War. Beautiful 2
Ľ inch negatives. By 12 I had an entire darkroom set up in the back bath
room. Over the years I have had a dozen LSR cameras. Shot 1000s of photos.
I got boxes of negatives shot over a half century. You would think I might
harbor a romantic longing for chemical photography. Screw that, give me
digital

TURA

Camera

———

I have an aura camera. At least, that’s how I present my stall at Mind Body and Spirit shows. The camera’s loaded with UV-sensitive film, and with a few blacklights and cold reading, it turns a steady penny.

This this guy shows up, tall, elegant, a little odd.

“Would you like to *really* see auras?” he said.

“The camera works well enough,” I say, trying to figure his game.

“The gift chooses *you*,” he says, and walks off.

And now I do see everyone’s auras. I can’t see my own though. They don’t show up in mirrors. Or in cameras.

NORVAL JOE

Tyler Perry mugged for the TV cameras as he walked up the red carpet, a late nominee to the Oscars.

A multiple nominee, Mr. Perry waited in vain for a win in the categories of script writing for his most recent offering in the Madea franchise, “Medea and Pee Wee Herman’s Big Adventure” and Costuming for his portrayal as Medea in “Medea and Pee Wee Herman’s Big Adventure”.

Ultimately, his greatest disappointment was not winning the category of “Man Dressed as an Old Fat Woman” which went to a high school drama class’s recording of their performance of “Mrs. Doubtfire”.

PLANET Z

I’ve got one of those smartphones with a built-in camera.
I can’t remember the last time I used an actual camera.
I know that I’ve got a digital camera somewhere in my desk drawer.

Which might come in handy, if I ever need to snap a photo of my camera.

If nobody else with a smartphone is around.

Or I couldn’t manage to get a hold of someone, since it is a phone, after all.

Or text someone. Or facebook a meetup.

Although I could probably snap a photo of my smartphone with the camera in my laptop.

Never mind.