Category: 100 Word Stories

#101 Nine of Ink

“Everyone have a phone ready?” Nine people in the room pull out their phones and hold them up in the air. A large 80’ screen comes to life at the far end of the room.

Projected on the screen is the face of a complete stranger to everyone in the room. He is breathing heavily, sweating, and looks absolutely terrified. The sun is about to set on Nowhere Island.

“Ladies and gentlemen, meet Frank. Thirty-two years old. Widowed. Stock broker. No children.” Some groan with disappointment, while others are excited. “Will he survive the first night? Place your bets now.” 

#100 Eight of Ink

“I’m telling you, it’s real. I saw it with my own eyes.” Everyone at the Bar on 8^th broke out in laughter. No one ever believed Tommy “Sink” Jones. They called him that because drinking was like pouring liquor down a drain. No one knew how he could drink so much.

“Hey, Sink, I bet it was so tall it could touch the moon?” shouted a voice in the crowd.

“Nice try, Herb. It’s in the caves I’m tellin’ ya. Sleepin’ like a baby.”

Patrons murmured that he was drunk and went about their conversations, unfazed.

“Here there be dragons!”

#099 Seven of Ink

The host was late, but his guests were too busy enjoying the fabulous spread of food to notice or care. Pretty soon everyone wondered how they came to be invited. 

No one was willing to admit their friendships were fake. They didn’t like the host but it was a secret they would take to their grave. Better to be kind and alive than truthful and dead.

When the host finally arrived, he seemed preoccupied, uneasy. He knew the dangers of inviting all of his frenemies.

Then eight people sat down to dine. Everything was going great till the host died.

#098 Six of Ink

“Going down.” I handed the elevator operator a piece of paper. He didn’t bother opening it. He’d seen the familiar red color before. He knew what it meant. I tried to catch his eye and smile for reassurance that everything was going to be okay but he avoided eye contact as he guided the doors closed, and pushed the button for the sixth floor.

It began a slow descent then lurched to a stop suddenly, and the heart I no longer had, sank. I’d only heard rumors about the sixth floor but no one dared to speculate further.  

Doors opened.

#097 Five of Ink

My story starts on Main Street. Where lost souls go to be forgotten and dead bodies are disposed of regularly. It’s where I examined her fifth victim. Trussed up on a chair in the middle of the road. He’d been there for days before someone called it in due to the unbearable stench.

That’s my job. Duty bound to catch her before she kills someone really important. This one’s an upgrade from her last four victims. Nice watch. Expensive suit. 

In his lapel, one flower. I’m allergic to flowers. But to confirm it’s her I take a sniff. Petunias.

ACHOO!

#096 Four of Ink

“You must let me go, father. I am the only one who can save us, it is prophecy,” said Maylin, the elf daughter of King Goren. She speaks of a prophecy bestowed upon her at birth.

“Hang the damn prophecy. You are my heir and my daughter. Were your mother still alive…” his voice cracked at the memory of his wife.

Maylin placed her hands upon his, “She would not stand in the way of prophecy. She would want me to find the Feathers of Four to save us.”

King Goren nodded in agreement. The child he knew was gone.

#095 Three of Ink

It was heartbreaking news. There was only one thing for her to do. She walked over to her record player, pulled the needle head up and to the right to start it, then dropped. 

The familiar crackle before the music started calmed her instantly. A recording of her mother playing the violin. It was a memory so strong she could see her standing in the middle of the living room, three pages of handwritten sheet music on the stand, through her childhood and teen years. But noticeably absent for her wedding and divorce. And now she would join her soon.

#094 Two of Ink

“Eww! What a ssssmelly exisssstence it must be for you to live in ssssuch ssssqualor,” the snake hissed down at a very hungry crocodile. “Not much of a talker, I ssssee.”

The snake slithered down till it was eye-level with the crocodile and noticed its eyes were closed. “Hmm, ssssleeping I ssssee. Typical of sssswamp animalssss.”

A tree branch snapped in the distance, making the snake’s eyes dart in its general direction. More of its long body uncoiling. Then snap!

The crocodile lowered its head back into the swamp, waiting for the next smart snake to pay it a visit.

#093 Ace of Ink

In a bedroom is a boy who should be asleep. Instead, he sits at his large open window, staring up at the moon, wishing he could fly. If only he could just reach out his hand and touch it. He would race the shooting stars and finally be free.

A loud snore from the bedroom next door startles him and he falls out! His fingers clutch the ledge.

Suddenly, he sees a star fall from the sky and hover over his head. “Let go, Peter.”

He opens his hand. The rush of air and a star follows his fast descent.

#092 As Time Goes By (Casablanca, 1942)

There’s a story of young lovers. It’s the same story wherever you go. He loves her. She can’t love him. In every instance the constant is always the melody. The music that plays out around them. 

The laughter. The tears. The memories.

I represent a man who once sat at a piano not unlike mine and witnessed tragedy, hate, and love. He told me that I was not to influence their story, just sing it.

As long as I have my piano, I don’t need a story of my own. I live on through the songs I sing about you.