Category: 100 Word Stories

#072 Jeeper Creepers

It was a simple barbecue. A welcome back party for the newlyweds. He was all smiles. She was positively radiant.

We all came together, to celebrate, again. We drank sub-par wine, though I noticed the bride only drank water, and reminisced. No one mentioned the possible fog forecast. It would’ve been in poor taste to mention the creepers. And upon reflection I’m thankful for two things:

One, that my bladder could never hold liquor for long. And two, that the creepers devoured the party while I was peeing. It got me out of having to admit how bored I was.

#071 A House is Not a Home

Every morning I stand in the kitchen and prepare breakfast for my husband before he leaves for work. Two strips of bacon. Two sunny side up eggs. White toast. Lightly buttered. And black coffee.

By the time the toaster dings I hear him pull the chair out at the kitchen table and sit with the morning paper unfolded, reading aloud to himself. I place his plate down carefully in front of him and hold my breath. Waiting.

He glances at the plate and smiles. I breathe and sit across from him. The chain around my ankle rattles in the silence.

#070 Unaware

When I was a child, my father and I fought all the time. Especially, after the surgery. I didn’t want it. And I hated him for doing it to me. Then he died shortly after and now I spend the rest of my life wishing I could thank him.

As a scientist for the new world government he knew what was coming, and as his son I would be a perfect candidate for testing. But when they saw I had no eyes, I became the only human without government implants. They call me Mr. Johnson, the only living free man.

#069 Better Together

“Where you headed?” Davey asks our passenger like he’s genuinely interested in the answer.

“No place in particular. Just out of this God forsaken town, that’s for sure.” They both laugh. Davey likes to pretend he understands their struggles. I roll my eyes and turn up the radio. I’m driving so it’s ladies choice and I prefer talk radio.

“Bonnie & Clyde have struck again! Police say they murdered another unidentifiable hitchhiker. This is their third victim in a week…”

I lock eyes with Davey. An undeniable connection passes silently between us. Then I look in the rearview mirror. He knows.

#068 Man in Black

“Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Smith, to Heavenly Meadows. Open day and night to serve your afterlife needs.”

:groan:

How droll. The computer helps the living decide what they want. I deal with the dead. They talk less and ultimately end up with whatever I give them.

Take this couple as an example. Innocently planning to make their afterlife arrangements easier and more efficient for loved ones and friends. HA!

I wear black so I can lurk in dark corners of the room where they can’t see me smiling as they give us all their money and I give ‘em hell!

#067 Whiskey and You

I spend most days and nights at a local pub. Everyone knows me and those who don’t, wind up talking to me one way or another before they leave. Usually it’s because of my friend Henry. He’s known to stand out in a crowd because of what he is.

See, Henry is my imaginary friend. He showed up the day I killed my wife. I realize it’s a bit unorthodox to have an imaginary friend at my age. And you probably want to hear about my murdered wife. Unfortunately for you, my friend Henry thinks I should have another drink.

#066 We’ve Only Just Begun

A “Just Married” sign on the back of the new Camaro began to fade from the sun and endless driving. Almost empty, the driver had to stop at the nearest gas station. He leaned over and kissed the bride on her tear stained cheeks, then cranked her window open for air. Her veil caught in the wind. 

“How ‘bout our favorite song while you wait?” The Carpenters startled the station attendant who smiled and waved at the couple suspiciously.

Back on the road the driver smiled at her through the rearview mirror, her smeared lipstick matching her blood-soaked wedding dress.

#065 The Way We Were

Dirt. Hardened over time. No flowers needed to mark the spot. It’s committed to our memories forever. Under the tree where I once carved our names. And now, here you are, working up a sweat (again), digging a space to fill with more memories.

Photographs and trinkets that remind you of us. Wasted time covering them in the same dirt you haven’t dared visit in over a decade. I can’t help but wonder, why now? What’s changed? Do you feel the guilt of leaving me alone all this time or have you moved on?

After all, you buried me here.

#064 Aerials

I’m a lighthouse keeper but I don’t help ships at sea. My job is to keep an eye on the skies. We know it will come again as it always does. And so I wait. I’ve been waiting for over five years now.

Till one night, during a rain storm, the sky lit up. I thought it was lightning and ignored it but the thud that followed was unmistakable. I’d heard it before. The aerial was back.

During every visit it takes two humans, “for learning purposes” it says. Then it returns them the same way, dropped from the sky.

#063 Ironic

“Let’s see who we have with us this evening,” Shirley said, pulling up a photograph of the dead woman laying on her table. She read her statistics off the computer to an empty room. “Mrs. Katherine Chambers. Forty-eight. Stroke. No children. Damn.” 

She started her favorite playlist of classical music and held up her best scalpel, ready to begin.

“I wish you could speak. I would ask about your life. What went wrong. What went right.”

“I’m sure that’s none of your business.” The scalpel slipped and landed in Katherine’s open mouth.

“Who said that?” She eyed the corpse suspiciously.