Some witches use wands to cast spells.
Others use potions and herbs.
But I knew of a witch who uses her body as a spellbook.
Tattoos across her limbs, dancing casts the enchantments.
She wears a deep black cloak from head to foot, but sometimes you can see her hand, snakes coiled around each finger.
Singing. Turning. Swaying.
One day, in the middle of casting a spell, she stopped.
And her cloak fell to the ground in a pile.
She’d always worried of a scar or a blemish on her skin disrupting a spell.
Powerful forces had consumed her whole.
The Billionaire
Once upon a time, there was a billionaire who loved wine.
He bought every kind, forever seeking the perfect wine.
He also owned priceless books about wine.
One contain legends of a monastery that produced the best wine ever made.
So, in a hill behind his castle, he recreated the monastery, the winery, the grapes, and the monks.
(With enough money, you can clone anything.)
They made this perfect wine for him.
They were kept faithful with a simple book of rules, and aside from some accidents, they were content to make his wine.
He toasted to their health.
“Cheers.”
Weekly Challenge #270 – “Pogo Stick”
Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at podcasting.isfullofcrap.com. I’m your host, Laurence Simon.
This is Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Seventy, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was Pogo Stick
How about voting for your favorites?
[polldaddy poll=5180998]
And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post.
Boomer Bob
“Ben, why are you so jumpy? “
“I can’t help it Maw, I got what Paw says are ants in my pants.”
“Ben ride the horsey outside the store, okay?”
“Okay! Giddy up Silver” I sternly commanded as I rode the well worn plastic painted steed.
The quarters dropped in and off I went to the Wild West. It wasn’t until Skippy saw me and laughed that I felt embarrassed.
“I bet you can’t ride this horse like I can?” I responded.
Skippy pushed me off and mounted the ride while I rode off with his pogo stick.
TJ
A flood is maybe
the quietest
natural disaster.
Storms rage, tornados howl,
Hurricanes splinter buildings
like an explosion.
An overland flood
Walks unhurried over levees.
It swims into your basement
And chokes you beneath
A placid surface
Probably it won’t kill us.
It will take our property.
For some of us, it will take everything
It might take our health – mold, spores, sanitation
As the waters recede
And the devastation surfaces,
It will take our mental health.
You find debris washed in with the wreckage,
A doll, some book, a pogo stick.
Whose was it?
What was lost?
And why?
Lynlea
It was early morning and the group was excited.
The water was calm and the boat large enough so they could bring the dog along.
The captain gave his orders, “Sit ye down and keep ye hands inside the boat.”
The boat lurched. “It’s always watching,” he warned. “Throw sandwiches if ye must, but keep that dog away from the side.”
Everyone peered out into the middle of the lake.
Large ripples appeared.
“Here she comes you fools, hold tight…”
The head appeared; the dog suddenly vanished.
The captain laughed: “I never tire of that Ogopogos’ shtick!”
Guard 13007
“I was cleaning the garage yesterday,” I told John, “guess what I found.”
“What?” he asked, the same question everyone says when you tell them to guess. I considered hanging up, he was being kinda normal.
“You have to guess!”
“You found a bug? A potion?”
“No, those are from old challenges. I found something new for the next one, a pogo stick!”
I waited for a reply, one that never came. I knew they had gotten him for sure now, he was a Normal. I had to act quickly, and challenge the King with my pogo stick!
Steven the Nuclear Man
Sarah’s hand on my shoulder was soothing. “Relax, Jase. Convergent evolution doesn’t have to happen the same way everywhere.”
I shoved words through clenched teeth. “Yes. It. Does. That’s what it bloody well means.” An alien moved past the viewport, its body telescoping on the upward arc. “And then with Charles…” I stopped as his spacesuited figure went by, riding an alien like a pogostick. I spluttered wetly in indignation.
Sarah laughed. “It’s harmless. They like it, so hush.” She turned to get a communique. “Oh.”
“What?”
Sarah grinned. “We just found a planet where life looks like hula-hoops.”
Tom
We here in Pogo take our weights and measurements quite seriously. The Pogo yard is precisely 3.14 Baxters. Named after our glorious leader Boffo Baxter, died in a tragic chainsaw juggling accident. Each summer the daughter of the invincible involution replace yard stick all over the country side. Row upon row of red sticks gentle swaying in the wind. Reminding one and all of the immutable malleability of measurement. There’s a move on to make the PogoStick the national symbol replace that antiquated possum. We could lose the national motto too. We have met the enemy and he is Us.
Zackmann
Yes, grandpa I know it was intellectually stimulating and funny but comic strips don’t run forever.
Well, except Peanuts and Blondie. Most people only know your favorites from those history of
comics books.
Grandpa, I like your comedy routine for the talent show but most people will not understand your
Pogo schtick. Let me help you rewrite some on the jokes so younger people will understand
them.
Okay Jimmy but only if you promise to bring that stick with a spring and the baseball bat just in
case the zombies break through the wall outside the auditorium like last year.
Vinny T, Vince, Terrazabyte, Fricker, that one dude
Some days are meant to be enjoyed at a snail’s pace. Today was one of them.
It started when I awoke to the most magnificent aura of color filling the room as the sun poured in its daily cup of life.
Out the window and across the shimmering lake, I caught a glimpse of Mother Nature as an eagle caught its morning meal from the water.
Some days are meant to be breathed in slowly.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Took my breath away and squished my snail as my son decided to ride his Pogo Stick down the stairs.
Hello… 911?
Norval Joe
Philemon Mopani rolled over on his grass mat and groaned. He could never sleep long on the hard ground.
He got to his feet and hopped to the door.
Born with cerberal palsy, his small body twisted toward the right, his shorter side. The leg was stiff from years of spastic reflexes. As sped across the village to the outhouse, he bounced off his toes like a boy on a pogo stick.
The sudden hush from the night birds warned him something was wrong. Through cracks in the rough wood he saw the army of demons spread through his village.
Planet Z
The cavalry designation in our armed forces used to suggest a form of mounted soldier, typically on a horse.
However, these days, you’ll find armored and air cavalry units in various transports and combat vehicles.
There were experiments with other means of transportation, however, such as bicycle, war-dolphin, and pogo stick.
Despite initial successes during testing, each experiment failed, sometimes in quite lethal fashion to the troops (not to mention the war-dolphins.)
A strictly ceremonial platoon of mounted soldiers and their horses remains, although they do provide plenty of horse manure to fill flaming bags set upon the commandant’s doorstep.
The Wine
The brotherhood spent their days following their book of answers, growing grapes and producing wine.
They’d roll the casks into a nearby cave to age.
Brother Timothy thought back as far as he could remember.
Where did the barrels come from? He couldn’t remember any deliveries from the village.
Or where the village was.
Was there a village at all?
He looked around the valley. Just a river, trees, vineyards, and the brotherhood.
And the caves.
Maybe they re-used the wine casks?
Had they ever removed the casks or bottled the wine?
Where did it go?
The book said nothing.
The Well
The well has run dry.
Father William consults the book.
“When the well runs dry, dig another well.”
We get out our augers and shovels, and we begin to dig.
Just as we empty our last rain barrel, the brothers in the well shout.
“We have struck water!”
I sit by the river and scratch my head.
Why do we not use the river? The water is clean and fresh.
Father William points to the book. “It says not to use the river.”
For this, he commanded that my unholy tongue be torn out.
I watch the river flow past.
Brother Judas
There is always one unoccupied cot in the brotherhood dormitory.
Father Timothy tells us of Brother Judas.
“He was once one of us,” he says. “But, one night, he left and never came back.”
Why would a brother leave when there is wine to press, prayers to pray, and the book for all the answers?
That night, I do not sleep.
I look at Brother Judas’ cot. His robe and sandals are under it.
They have never been used.
There are no extra bowls or tools for Judas.
No desk. No scrolls. No chair.
Did he ever exist at all?
The Book
The Brotherhood does everything by the book.
Whenever there is a question, they consult it for answers.
They always find the answer in the book.
What to plant.
How to pray.
When to sleep.
The book has always had all the answers to their questions.
Brother Timothy made a copy of it.
The book did not change over time, like some doppelganger.
“What if we only know questions to ask it?” asked Timothy. “Can we think up a question it can’t answer?”
The book had an answer for that: “Flip the book. Front cover is yes, back cover is no.”
Wine Press
The Brotherhood awakens, goes through their routine of prayers and morning meal, and then they head to the winery.
Grapes are pressed, casks filled and rolled carefully into the cave.
A barrel gets loose. Father Michael is crushed to death.
The brothers carry his body to the yard, dig a hole, and lower his naked body within.
Dirt is piled over him, and they return to work.
The next morning, they awaken, and Father Michael leads them in prayers.
Was he revived by the yard?
Replaced somehow?
Nobody knows. Nobody asks.
“Amen,” he says, and they head to the winery.
Recordkeeping
The Brotherhood has existed for longer than anyone can remember.
Record-keeping is limited to crops and other essential weather observations.
The brothers themselves are encouraged to not remember their pasts or how they got there.
Just follow the commands within the book, do your chores, and try not to kill each other.
None can remember any new brothers coming to the brotherhood, nor when they arrived themselves.
One lifts up their cowl… then another…
Brother William and Brother Timothy are the same.
“Lower your hoods,” hisses Brother Fredric. “The book commands it.”
(God forbid they realize they have no bellybuttons.)
Weekly Challenge #269 – “Read”
Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at podcasting.isfullofcrap.com. I’m your host, Laurence Simon.
This is Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Sixty-Nine, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was Read
How about voting for your favorites?
[polldaddy poll=5156186]
And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post.
TJ
OK, so this week, my actual 101st week since joining you all on this little adventure, I decided to observe the occasion by selecting one word from each of my previous 100 weeks’ 100 word story entries.
This proved to be improbably complicated – up to and including the fact that not once among those previous 10,000 words did this week’s actual topic appear, so … well, you’ll see how I handled it.
No prize for the winners beyond a smug sense of satisfaction. And since I have no idea how this will format or what it will even look like when Laurence posts it, line breaks will be as … indicated. Enjoy!
————————————-
Crack the Code
Along10 with3 physical98 training86 for9 speed14 and6 spy19 skills97- he59 also62 spent41 two21 weeks2 trekking66 through60 the22 woods87 with5 his49 Uncle76 Joe67 for61 survival30 training94- Martin99 spent95 part48 of63 his51 summer100 crafting39 a64…
stocks1 -seemed28 -recipe4 -quirky7 -warped36 -nudist20 //
cortex45- forsooth44- midnight17- irresponsible8.
Can70 you77 figure58 it65 out68?
————————————-
“Haggis31-nanotechnology15-muppety40-nymphs37-batty35 //
opera74-incoming38-elegant50 //
hedgerow78-tuxedo89-monster46-pudding73-divert91-Spencer96-Jaybird88-smartest53-workbench12 //
Watson93-doctor75-baristas23-bandaged71 //
shooter84-stand82-cooking83-staring26-platypus42 //
taxicab34 //
Jazzile11, //
Angels79-installations13-radiator80 //
Halloween69-xeriscape55-circuitous18-foreman90-themselves56 //
tattered25-vociferous81 //
overtaking43-uniforms29-gleeful32 //
History33-autotune47-denizens16-murdered54-government92-chrome85-ordered24 //
misery52-monstrosities57-Warren72-adventure27!”
Tom
Llewellyn Esterlin was a hard read. In the four years I observed her in high school I never saw her once talk to another soul. She didn’t have a lock partner. She never answered or was even asked a question in class. Whenever she walked down the hall from Herr Heck’s History class to Miss Mourse’s Math class an expanding bubble would form around her. I always wonder was she shy or merely transcendent. Of the 1000s people I have known, she is my lingering regret. Funny, Llewellyn is the late person I thought of as the darkness closed in.
Danny
I just love how the establishment of this country assumes I cannot read. High school graduate, degree meaningless in this day and age, college graduate, not a technical degree, so I go sit and spin, and Law School graduate. Ladies and gentlemen, we are witnessing the fall of Babylon. What? You bible thumpers are obviously not reading your bibles, fricken hypocrites. Bottom line, I don’t care if you call yourselves Republicans (Nazis), or Democrats (Pussies), I know what you douche bags in Congress are up to, you offend my morals, my values, and you are all traitors to the United States.
Zackmann
You rat bastard.
Does that mean you didn’t like my book?
No, I loved the last two thirds of your book since it was No Name by Wilkie Collins.
You got the audio book didnt you since the paperback was The Woman in White, the ebook was
Moonstone and the hardcover was My Lady’s Money. Because of how I ended the story I didnt
want to readers to feel disappointed with too small a book or be able to peek at the end to see
what happened.
Planet blowing up killing everyone on page 114. I didnt see that coming.
Steven the Nuclear Man
I pull the card from the pile of paper and read it.
“I’m sorry I lied to you, Dad.” It is a heart cut from notebook paper.
Fucking appropriate. I crumple the yellowed sheet.
I don’t remember the child in the school pictures. That kid’s gone.
I remember the times my son attacked me. The times he bit, kicked,
struck me as I held him, whispering I loved him while waiting for the
police to arrive.
I remember finding the knife he said he’d kill us with.
I read this year’s “Happy Father’s Day” cards and try not to die.
Terazzabyte
Two gentlemen, one in a very expensive camel colored tweed jacket, the other in a dirty and dingy grey hoodie with holes in it.
Two lives, one that studied abroad after earning his masters in philosophy, the other studied philosophy in the streets of Brooklyn while earning a living.
Two players squared off face to face, one reading the stoic eyes of his opponent, the other calculating the moves he must make to bring the other man down.
One Chess board lays open in-between the two combatants while two friends see no difference whatsoever in the man across from himself.
Chris the Nuclear Kid
My name is Chris. Three days ago I found a book with a title that couldn’t be made out. I flipped through the pages and stopped at one to read it. Human life is of great value, it can be a source of power. By obtaining power, one can create good and glorious things or evil and devastating things. ‘The Ring of Creation’ was made with the four elements and human life. I stopped reading.
“So, you’re the chosen one.” A man walked over then sat down.
I looked up. “The chosen one?”
“Yes, I’ll explain soon.”
Norval Joe
“‘Read the fine print,’ my lawyer said, ‘They can incarserate you,'” Fly Paper Boy grumbled as he walked past cell after cell of laughing criminals.
“I hate to do this,” the prison warden said as he walked with the boy. “Super heroes are to be tried as adults, so we have to put you in general lockup.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. The hospital ward is closed,” the warden said as he unlocked the cell. “You’ll have a cellmate.”
A man glare from the bottom bunk, his body covered with bandages.
“Make sure you keep your hands to yourself,” Vinyl Man growled.
Peisi Tan
He held out an anxious palm. “What do you see?” he asked timidly. But his heart was feeling especially rebellious. If it had legs, it could outrun a cheetah.
“I see nothing but inexplicable amounts of moisture and broken lines.”
He sighed a hasty cocktail of exasperation and frustration – served cold with a wedge of angry bitterness. “Can you tell me something I don’t know?” he finally snapped. For too long, this was the only reading that he had been getting.
If only he could wake and see that it was his reflection that he had been talking to.
Planet Z
So, everything’s a fucking mess because you thought I knew about it, but you didn’t bother to tell me about it.
Oh, it’s my fault?
How exactly?
Wait… I want to try something.
I want you to think of a number between one and ten.
Got one?
Good.
Think about it. Think carefully about it.
Okay, ready for me to tell you what it is?
Here we go… it’s…
I have no fucking idea.
Because I don’t read minds.
I’m a divinator, not a telepath.
Now help me find my dowsing rod. The neighbors want to dig a new well.