#014 Your 100 Word Story

Let’s get this weekend write-life started! Write whatever sparks joy for you.

Here’s how:

  • Exactly 100 words. Not 99 or 101. The Word Count Police are tracking!

  • Genre? Writer’s 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 you’re 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 🔄 “Restack with a Note” and copy/paste your story for added reach and growth.

REMINDER: You don’t have to write your story just on Fridays! Take this sentiment and free write all weekend long!

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Comments

  1. Tyler Tarlton

    The notification appeared in the corner of the monitor, signaling the arrival of an email. Jake moved his mouse over to click it. He had run out of reports to work hours ago and needed something to do to get through the day. He felt like the cubicle walls were closing in on him. The email opened with a giant headline that read WANT A NEW JOB? CLICK BELOW! Of course Jake wanted a new job. Who didn’t at this place? He knew he shouldn’t open an unknown link but…Jake did. The ransomware downloaded and Jake got his new job.

  2. Susie Mawhinney

    Dust…

    Old bales of grey hay

    (mould dust)

    scattered logs, branches, leaves

    (sawn dust)

    broken machines, a freezer

    oak beams by eight

    (bought in-situ dust)

    tiny shoes, children’s clothes

    filled suitcases, boxes

    school books and accounts

    (memories dust)

    old beds, old doors

    boards from old floors

    empty jars, pots of paint

    excuse me a minute I think I might faint,

    breathe in — breathe out

    the half skeleton you see has a snout

    ignore the snake skin curled in a corner

    the walnut shells left by secret hoarders

    don’t look, just do

    it’s all just dust

    of years passed before you.

    • Feasts and Fables

      This is excellent. Painting pictures, like a finger trailing through the collected dust. Lovely writing

  3. John Riley

    The summons went out for the deceased Theodopolous Anderson.

    Disturbed by this interruption in his deathly repose, he did his duty, bound in a tattered death shroud and cradling his jaw from dropping to the floor when loosening his chinstrap while giving evidence.

    Once completed, the Priests advised his spirit would wander and not find peace, so the court decided to keep Theodopolous busy. They favoured the task of weaving sand into rope.

    Theodopolous looked aghast at such an infringement of his rights. He appealed and won his case.

    Death by gallows, for a second time, at Bracken House gaol.

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