The 100 Word Stories Podcast

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Ninety-Three, 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… was…. um…
It’s Mucus and Eyes Like An Owl!
The excellent theme music is by Guy David.
VOTING

Which were the best stories this week?
	Steven
	TJ
	Zachmann
	JRadimus
	Justin
	Anima
	Norval Joe
	Planet Z
Free polls from Pollhost.com

Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

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Steven

I go over the edge of the trench with the gas. It rolls in thick
liquid clouds.
The enemy is surprised. Both of us are hampered by gas masks. My
bayonet slices up, straps snap, and his mask falls away.
His eyes widen into owl eyes, pupils dilating from the poison. Snot
and blood pour from his mouth and nose. He clutches his chest and
gasps to a stop. His bowels release staining his trousers as he dies.
I breathe in through my mask’s charcoal filters. I smell nothing.
I raise my rifle and shoot a stranger twenty feet away.

TJ

They couldn’t fault him for tardiness. New Year’s Day he was at work before the foreman. His attire was that of a sharp-dressed man, still living the high life from the night before. True, he could’ve cleaned up a little. He came to suddenly, hungover, nose running, stubbly and red eyes staring like an owl’s. But his penmanship was perfect – or rather, that of his asshole friends, who left him passed out under seven-foot letters, “I QUIT!” He saw them when his boss kicked the nearby aerosol can at his head. “Happy New Year,” he grumped. “Now clean that up!”

Zachmann

I found a metal box, well more of a cylinder. I opened it up and there was a creature who was covered in mucus and had eyes like an owl. The creature sat up and said “May I use your shower or at least a hose? This mucus kept me alive in stasis but it is kind of gross and I would like to clean it off me.” After it used my shower, it told me it had questions for someone involved in the Clay Fenton incident and asked me if I knew where It could find The Space Turtle.

JRadimus

He was led, still shackled, from a bright anteroom into the darkened arena. The chanting of the crowd echoed off the walls; the combined din throbbed in Plaq’s ears. His eyes began adjusting to the dimness. His captors dimmed the lights for this death-match for the benefit of his owl- eyed opponent. For sadistic aliens, these creeps were annoyingly even-handed about their ritual sacrifices. At least they’d given him gauntlets so he could grip his foe’s mucus-covered body. “OK,” Plaq thought, “so I can grab it; if I don’t find some kind of weak-spot soon, I’m toast no matter what.”

Justin

I never expected to be the one to save the planet.
HootBoy saw the danger coming with his eyes like an owl. A meteor heading to Earth. Some characteristic hid it from radar.
The Arm Wrestler strong armed the meteorite into gently resting in South Africa. It started in Morocco, and finally stopped in Mozambique.
When the rock broke open and an attack squad of alien adolescent girls swarmed out, that’s when I had my moment to shine.
With my power to project mucus like water from a fire hose, I just grossed them out until they all fell unconscious.

Anima

Shivering violently, John weakly raises his head off the pillow.
His nose is running, a marathon apparently, by the accumulation of used tissues by the sofa. Mucus is crusted around his nares.
“Honey”, he rasps, “I think I’m getting sicker. Can you check my temp again?”
This is his umpteenth request in 90 minutes. Of course he’s got a fever. It’s the flu….
“In a few, babe, I need to check on the livestock…”
“Hurry…”
“Where do you think you’re gonna stick THAT?” he croaks , eyeing the horse thermometer, eyes wide as an owl’s.

Norval Joe

One night, I’m ready to close the shop, the door creaks open and someone enters. I don’t see anyone and wonder if I’m under a spell.
When I here a wet snuffling, I stand and look over the counter to see a small creature peering up at me. It’s big round eyes like an owls. It rubbed its nose with the back of a scrawny arm and smeared mucus around its face.
It held out its boney hand, and said, “these dice don’t work.”
“They don’t work,” I asked? “Maybe you rolled them wrong.”
Man, little kids shouldn’t play D&D.”

Planet Z

The planet looked like a gigantic glob of glowing green mucous.
We built a robot to send down.
It looked human, but had eyes like an owl and wide feet to keep it upright.
They sent it down via a remote-controlled dropship.
Five hours later, the planet changed from green to red.
The dropship was coming back up on its own.
Nobody was piloting it. And it wasn’t responding to remote helm signals.
We rose three kilometers from deployment and docking altitude.
The dropship stopped. And exploded.
The planet turned green again.
We tagged the planet “unfriendly” and left.

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Ninety-Two, 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… was…. um…
It’s A story from the viewpoint of an inanimate object with a Paper Sack, Full Moon, Beginnings!
The excellent theme music is by Guy David.
VOTING

Which were the best stories this week?
	Steven
	Norval Joe
	Zachmann
	JRadimus
	Justin
	TJ
	Z
Free polls from Pollhost.com

Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

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Norval Joe

There were vague memories almost as if they were the residual dreams of others. Separate thoughts of being jelly, or peanut butter, and bread, many slices.
True awareness began when it was slipped into the clear plastic bag, and settled into the dark with an apple and a bag of chips.
They left at noon, the apple and chips. Only the sandwich remained to watch the blue rectangle of sky above fade to grey, then black, alone in the school yard.
Warily, in the dim yellow light cast by the full moon, a stray dog followed the scent of food.

Steven

I found Maria by the airlock, avoiding hyperventilation by puffing into the sack. Her hair swirled in the spaceship’s low gravity.
She gasped “It’s starting!” before breathing into the paper again.
“What’s starting?” I asked.
She pointed at the porthole. I looked out, into the black. “I don’t see…” I said, then I did.
The moon, still dark and new from Earth’s viewpoint, showed a different face to our spaceship. We saw the far side of the moon. It shone bright and full.
Maria’s hand, now more of a paw, fell on my shoulder.
Behind me, I heard a growl.

Zachmann

I am sitting here in a closet waiting to play games and watch movies, I hope the first one is not Twilight New Moon. I love movies with good beginnings. I am will be disappointed with movies with happy endings unless all the children are asleep. Why did they wrap me in a paper sack? I mean it is pretty and has Christmas trees and missile toe but I cost several days pay I am worth Christmas Wrapping paper. They have cats and a dog. I should be glad that I am not under the tree. Alas, poor Teddy bear

JRadimus

Ow! Watch it, buddy! Oh, good gravy. It’s another dumpster diver. Scavenger! It must be a full moon. They like the natural light to rummage by. I wish he’d be more careful; we don’t enjoy the groping, shoving, tearing, and the stick with the nail in the end, you know. My purpose in this life was to help a wino hide his bottle from cops and have him slosh and slobber on me. Now, to have this guy toss me aside for a 2-cent piece of glass or metal is humiliating. I hope I come back as a notebook.

Justin

awake, glistening and new. What am I? I stand stately between three shiny walls and in a sea of brand new blue tile. Behind me is a wall of the same blue tile. My memory rushes back in. I’m made of vitreous china, a mix of clay, silica and a fluxing agent, shaped and fired in a kiln. The wall in front of me opens. A man in shabby clothes walks in with a paper bag. His belt and his pants drop. When he turns to reveal a full moon, I remember I’m a toilet in a public restroom.

TJ

As the statue of David, I am among the naughtier pieces of statuary in Rome. In the evenings, drunken old men slouch in hiding behind my pedestal to rest a moment or two, desecrating my ancient male beauty to make blurting and blorping sounds, taking occasional nips from bottles hidden poorly in tattered paper bags clutched in their fists. Recently I’d begun to take my vengeance, however, against these old Italian drunks. True, I am nothing more than a statue, stuck here in place, but even an inanimate object such as myself can present my defilers with a FULL MOON!

Planet Z

For ten years, a camera watched the back of the store on Baker and Seventh streets.
The place has been robbed a few times, but always from the front.
That camera sees all the action.
The back camera doesn’t see a thing. Just a bum, drinking Mad Dog out of a paper bag under the full moon.
A thug slaps the paper bag away, punches the bum, and stares at the camera before pulling on a ski mask.
He kicks in the door, robs the place. First one from the back door.
Too bad nobody put a tape in tonight.