A hot tip. Thatâs what it was. So hot, in fact, he began to sweat. Eating lunch one afternoon he overheard a conversation he wouldnât dare repeat to anyone.
There were five men in front of him. Unable to be still and patient he started to bite his nails. Now four men.
The race was about to begin and he still hadnât placed his bet. Now three men.
His mouth was suddenly like the Sahara desert, palms sticky. Two men.
He reached in his pocket.
One man.
No wallet.
Panic set in. A shot rang out to start the race.
In keeping with the theme for the rest of September, check out the publication whose name I used for the story you just read. And if you like their writing, give them a Subscribe to let them know!
ââŚitâs been ten days since my last confession. I killed a man last night. And it felt good. To be honest, he had it coming from the very beginning.â
Making my confession made me feel so much better. A weight had been lifted, telling a man who had to keep my secret.
âI understand, my child,â he said, and paused before adding, âwill you do it again?â
âI think so. I canât help it. I have a taste for it now. What should I do?â
âGo home and finish the story so I can read how it ends, of course!â
In keeping with the theme for the rest of September, check out the publication whose name I used for the story you just read. And if you like their writing, give them a Subscribe to let them know!
Letâs get this weekend write-life started! From this Friday forward, Iâll include an image prompt and a few words to get your brain percolating towards a story. But only if you need it! Write whatever sparks joy for you.
Hereâs how:
Exactly 100 words. Not 99 or 101. The Word Count Police are tracking!
Genre? Writerâs choice! So long as you give us all the thrills and the feels.
To Fic or to Non-Fic? You decide. What matters most is that youâre satisfied with the output.
Copy/paste your words in the comments, then share on your own Substack, and maybe, share to social media!
A Note on Substack Notes | Click the đ âRestack with a Noteâ and copy/paste your story for added reach and growth.
IMAGE PROMPT
There is so much rich history that can be found in the span of time of a gnarled tree. What has it witnessed in its life cycle? Who has sat under the shade it once provided? When was it planted? What story will you choose to tell?
REMINDER: You donât have to write your story just on Fridays! Take this sentiment and free write all weekend long!
Enjoying these weekly emails? Donât forget to read the submissions in the comments section and share this post with your friends!
WANT TO STOP GETTING THESE FREE WRITING FRIDAY EMAILS?
Follow instructions from image below after you click the âunsubscribeâ button.
We had been underground for hours, walking through a web of tunnels before finding what we were looking for. A large stone with images believed to be the first story written by human hands. We scanned the images, hoping to be the first to transcribe it for the world.
They told the story of a woman who was chased by beasts. She entered a cave, not unlike ours, and hid away, waiting to be rescued.
âI knew youâd come.â The voice was faint but definitely female. We came for a story but uncovered so much more.
In keeping with the theme for the rest of September, check out the publication whose name I used for the story you just read. And if you like their writing, give them a Subscribe to let them know!
The old man sat in the church cemetery every single day clutching a bunch of lilies in one hand and his hat in the other. His hair balding on top but the wisps of auburn, a nod to his younger years.
The bench he occupied faced several gravestones but it was one in particular he visited. Large rectangle. Same as the rest. But upon further inspection, what made it different from the others was its lack of a name.Â
Only he knew who was buried there and as long as he lived he vowed to keep watch and never forget.
In keeping with the theme for the rest of September, check out the publication whose name I used for the story you just read. And if you like their writing, give them a Subscribe to let them know!
The music coming from Hanover House was so loud the ground at the cemetery vibrated. The house was filled with guests in costume, drinking and laughing and dancing to the music. No one noticed the couple who floated a few inches off the floor when they moved.
They wore their wedding attire from the blessed day that took place nearly a century ago in this very house. He was much smaller in his tuxedo and she didnât fill out her dress quite like she used to.
Their skeletal faces shone by the lights of the disco ball. And they danced.
In keeping with the theme for the rest of September, check out the publication whose name I used for the story you just read. And if you like their writing, give them a Subscribe to let them know!
âI found this old bottle of wine when I moved in. Says it was bottled in 1480,â I said, handing over the dust covered bottle.
â1480? Thatâs impossible,â Kerri, my best friend, said, and grabbed it from me. She held it up to the light to see if there was anything inside. Once confirmed she handed it back and I proceeded to wriggle the cork till it came free with the familiar POP.
I would describe the smell it released as floral. But seeing as now weâre both six feet under, thatâs all I feel like sharing at this time.Â
In keeping with the theme for the rest of September, check out the publication whose name I used for the story you just read. And if you like their writing, give them a Subscribe to let them know!
The embers crackled in the still night air. A family of three sat around a fire that wasnât theirs, sipping from mugs.
âI think theyâs ready, maw. Can we eat now?â
âWeasel, I done tole ya we gotta let the meat marinate as long as possible. Really lock in the flavor,â his mother cackled.
Weasel sulked while he drank his mug of blood.
âHam, go see if they ready. Yer brother fixinâ to pass out from hunger.â
Ham walked over to a tent and looked in. Three bodies crammed in a large barrel.
âThey look ready to eat!â he shouted.
In keeping with the theme for the rest of September, check out the publication whose name I used for the story you just read. And if you like their writing, give them a Subscribe to let them know!
âIn a world where rules donât exist and everything is planned. Chaos never reigns. It dominates.â
âFinish your breakfast, young man. Or the only chaos youâll encounter is from your mother.â
Dylan ate everything and scampered from the table before she could hand out chores. He knew his enemy was lurking just around the corner.
âIn a world where cats are ferocious beasts, Dylan isnât afraid. Heâs faced down a tabby or two in his day. And he can do itââ
As Dylan expected, the neighborhood cat was waiting for him. He curled his mouse tail, ready for the chase.
In keeping with the theme for the rest of September, check out the publication whose name I used for the story you just read. And if you like their writing, give them a Subscribe to let them know!