The 100 Word Stories Podcast

• Richard
• Tom
• Serendipidy
• Lizzie
• Scribbling Wren
• Norval Joe
• Planet Z

The next topic is Overhead.

RICHARD

Fine

There was no way I was paying the fine.

I’d only popped into the store to grab some bread and milk, ten minutes, tops. Ten minutes – and I still got a ticket!

Where else was I supposed to park?

I decided to fight it on principal.

I reckoned it was worth a shot.

That was until I got the legal bills and had to lose two whole day’s wages for court dates, plus the cost of fuel and parking just to attend.

Nearly a grand and a half it cost me!

But, at least they let me off the fine!

TOM

Do-lang-do-lang-do-lang

It was the gold age of rhyme and blues. A refined sound that spilled out of the Black Community and cross over into mainstream American pop music. Ten million transistor radios tuned to what arguable could be called, not parent’s music. Downtown music. Not only was the sound uptown so was the presentation of the group that sang those upbeat love songs. Groups like the Chiffons dressed to the nines elegantly crooning Do-lang-do-lang-do-lang. He’s so Fine is a long way from swing low. So fine, I haven’t heard the term used in years. Guess you would say He’s so Non-binary.

SERENDIPIDY

I’m fine, really, no matter what the shrinks might say, and despite all the expert opinions.

I’m taking it all in my stride; as far as I’m concerned, it’s no big deal, even though I know it should be.

People think it’s some sort of ‘survivor syndrome’ – not the one where you feel guilty about surviving, when none of the others lived, or the weird one where you feel invincible, almost immortal.

But it’s not.

The truth is far simpler.

I managed to survive, not because the killer spared me, or missed me.

I survived because I was the killer!

LIZZIE

“No trains?”
The man sitting outside the station shrugged.
“Fine.”
10am. What now?
She could walk, but her feet were killing her after 2 hours, walking from the nearest village.
A cab perhaps? Did they even have cabs here, in the middle of nowhere?
She could wait. What if there were no trains?
Then, she saw the policeman.
“No trains?”
He shrugged.
“Fine!”
Rude people.
“Lady, I saw you crossing the road over here.”
“So?”
“The zebra crossing is over there.”
“So? There are no cars.”
“Well, here.”
“What’s this?”
“A fine, of course. You do love fines, don’t you?”

SCRIBBLING WREN

John

The first thing I notice in the room next to him is Chrysanthemums. I didn’t want flowers but forgot to say. It’s hard to think of everything. Maybe someone asked me. Maybe I’m on autopilot just nodding and telling everyone I’m fine. I’m tired of having ‘sorry for your loss’ thrown at me, then that awkward bit where we stand in silence.

I leave half way through his funeral.

Those fucking Chrysanthemums.

I feel like I can smell them from outside.

I’ve had enough. I don’t want to be alone but I need to be by myself for a bit.

NORVAL JOE

The roiling black thunderhead rushed toward them, bolts of lightning striking tall pine trees as it approached.
One of the teenagers shouted to the driver of the van, “What do we do, Clarence?”
From behind the steering wheel, he waved them toward the van. “Get inside.”
As the wind roared toward them, they left Billbert and his friends and jumped for cover inside the van.
“Not without the prisoners!” Clarence screamed at the youths.
It was too late. Billbert, Linoliamnda, and Sabrina raced into the trees.
But without Sabrina focusing on it, the storm faded away to a fine mist.

PLANET Z

Some days, she’d open a drawer and smell his clothes.
Or set the table for two.
Using his soap in the shower.
Buying the 2% milk at the store because he didn’t like the skim milk she drank.
Only having to pour it out a week later.
How long had she been doing this?
Too long.
Eventually she sold his car, sold the house, gave all his stuff to goodwill.
A new beginning, she told herself.
She pulled out her phone and played the voicemail.
“I’ll be fine,” said John.
A slide of the finger, and then tap on Delete.

• Richard
• Lizzie
• Serendipidy
• Tom
• Norval Joe
• Planet Z

The next topic is Fine.

RICHARD

Dirty

“It’s a dirty job, but somebody’s got to do it.”

I looked at Toby cynically.

“What are you talking about, mate? How is being a talent scout for glamour magazines a dirty job? It’s not like you’re a sewage engineer!”

Toby gave me an exasperated look. “Why do you always have to take things so literally? It’s irony! It’s supposed to be amusing.”

“It’s not funny” I countered.

“Suit yourself” he replied, “you’re just jealous.”

“Not at all. I love being a sewage engineer… The smells, the filth, the rubber, hot babes.”

He smiled, “Is that irony?”

“Yeah. I’m learning!”

LIZZIE

He sat surrounded by orange and red and yellow pillows. All he could think of was to get rid of her. That’s where he was in life. “Let’s have a cocktail at the Sundown Lounge,” she said. “It’s so fancy!” Her voice shrilled throughout the fancy rooftop. And now, here he was, pondering whether he could break the glass he was holding, and stab her with it quickly enough. Well, he did try. But the damn lounge had some pretty sturdy glasses. “It’s a dirty job, but someone’s got to do it,” he later told his cellmate. “I trust you.”

SERENDIPIDY

Someone has to do the dirty jobs.

The muck-rakers, the toilet scrubbers and the collectors of night soil. The gatherers of carrion and the bringers of death and decay.

They have their place, and although despised and looked down upon by society, they fulfil a need.

Theirs is the domain of darkness and stench, the place of pain and putrescence, and without them, life would fester and rot, with no-one to prevent its fall into chaos.

So celebrate those of that foul domain, and remember their worth.

Personally, I wouldn’t deign to touch them

That’s your job, not mine!

TOM

Thick as Thieves

I couldn’t have been greener. But my mentor in the party was an old hand at the more dubious craftsmanship of Rat Fuckn. “It’s a dirty job, but someone hast to do it.” He would quip slowly, as he surveying the room, finally letting his gaze fall on me. The funny thing about the dirty job is the goal was not to let a stray finger press make its present known. He reminded me we were not spooks; we were shadows. We did not change outcomes we merely shaded perceptions. And the price He smiled was never done dirt cheap.

NORVAL JOE

As the three walked along the foggy road, a van from the “Someone’s gotta do it” septic service stopped next to them.
The driver asked. “Do you kids need a ride?” He smiled, exposing large yellow teeth.
Linoliamanda stepped toward the van. “Sure.”
“No. Wait,” Billbert shouted.
The van’s door slid open and six burley teenagers jumped out, grabbing Billbert and his friends.
Too late to join hands and fly off, Billbert said, “Come on, Sabrina. You’re the weather witch. Do something.”
“Right,” she said, turning to face the ocean. The fog separated and a giant thunderhead barrelled toward them.

PLANET Z

A long time ago, I had a son.
He grew up big and strong.
And one day, he went out but never came back.
He never came back again.
Sometimes, I think I see him hiding in the bushes.
Or up in a tree, in the shadows.
It’s been years since he left, but I know he’s out there.
And one day, when my days are done, it will be my time to go out and never come back.
And I will find him.
Maybe you’ll see us, in the bushes, up in a tree.
In the shadows together, forever.