The 100 Word Stories Podcast

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at oneadayuntilthedayidie.com. This is the Weekly Challenge, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic. We’ve got stories by: * Eva * Richard * Lizzie * Tom * Jon * Serendipity * Norval Joe * Planet Z EVA The Story of Is There was a beauty that radiated about her, penetrating the most solid of walls, the most bitter of men. I watched through impenetrable glass as the breeze lifted her hair, skin luminescent. I press a hand to my own. Cold. Lifeless. Gray. The way of our worlds. Light and dark. Mine, devoid of life, of beauty. Of purpose. I sigh, gazing, as she plucks a flower and tucks it behind her ear. This is the the divide, the unalterable conclusion. What is will be, what was will be no more. I am is. She is was, and someday will be…me. RICHARD Life? ‘Is this what my life has come to?’ I wondered, emptying the can of soup into the pan, and waiting for it to come to a bubbling heat. I’d once had dreams and ambitions, goals to achieve and challenges to meet, but somewhere along the way, the daily grind took over. Travelling the world, pushing my limits and living the dream somehow became less of a priority than paying the bills, putting out the bins and trying not to run out of milk. They never warn you about this when you’re a kid. And the soup’s not that good either. LIZZIE The Crow and the Spaceship The crow muttered a few words. No one could understand him. He looked up and everyone mimicked him. They couldn’t see anything. The crow flapped his wings. His nervousness was increasing. Then, they saw it. It was blinding. It tinted the whole sky with an overwhelming tone of orange. “What is that?” “That, you idiots, is your end.” They did understand the crow this time, but they stood there mesmerized, watching the spaceship fly over them, again and again. It didn’t feel like the end. The talking crow took off and hid. They… they were never seen again. TOM Between a Rock and Hard Place Bennie pulled back hard on the inertia damper. The Red Turtle dropped into the gravity well between Seti Alpha 5 and Drake’s debris field. Navigator Strobeck point out that if they didn’t pull a sufficient Z maneuver they’d likely end up fried by the dwarf binary suns of the Dawson cluster. Captain Winslow gave the order to engage the Repetition Drive. The spaceship commenced a near infinite series of braking actions. When the Turtle had finally come to a rest, they were orbiting between the suns. “Captain,” said Bennie noting the read out on the chronometer, “We overshot two millenniums.” JON But I Had That for Lunch! By Jon DeCles The axial rotation of the spaceship meant that they had gravity of a sort, but they suffered from Repetition Disorder, which had been discovered first back on Earth by examining psychotics who had got that way from watching re-runs of “I Love Lucy.” The spaceship simulated day and night easily enough, but the seasons were harder, as seasons are pretty specific to the distance you live from the equator. The mission was countering the disorder with culinary adventures to keep the awareness fresh.

Hi there. This is Laurence Simon of the 100 Word Stories Podcast at oneadayuntilthedayidie.com. Every week, I post a topic for the Weekly Challenge, where you come up with the stories and I collect them up and share them. Want to give it a try? The topic of the next 100 Word Stories Weekly Challenge is Don’t I feel stupid…: Write a 100 word story on that topic. Then, send it in an email to isfullofcrap (at) gmail.com with the subject line of WEEKLY CHALLENGE. Do you have a website where people can learn more about you and your writing? Include the URL to that website. Also, suggest a topic or topics for future Weekly Challenges. Most importantly, include a recording of your story. Be sure to introduce yourself to the audience. I put the episode together on Sunday morning. However, if you need more time, I can put your story up on the feed in a separate post. Good luck, and as always… keep it brief. NOV 25 Don’t I feel stupid… DEC 2 Too much DEC 8 Polar DEC 16 Belt DEC 23 Irritation DEC 30 PICK TWO Reflect Pounce Gymnastics Obsolete Engage Girls Easier And for 2019… JAN 6 corner JAN 13 adult JAN 20 jam JAN 27 PICK TWO judge delivery your lion unicorn cherry Incense FEB 3 transmission FEB 10 mug FEB 17 sharp FEB 24 PICK TWO bob stitch eaten pittance delete trumpet Ticket MAR 3 wordy MAR 10 kill MAR 17 why can’t you be more like your sister? MAR 24 confluence MAR 31 PICK TWO standard blinding blithering pony sparkle amuse Fire APR 7 emotive APR 14 charge APR 21 potato chips APR 28 PICK TWO hire heart attack strip weaponize fink nancy Bumbling MAY 5 jack MAY 12 slurp MAY 19 zone MAY 26 PICK TWO stunted growth bath passive pelt atmosphere nameless Tendency JUN 2 surrounded JUN 9 losing JUN 16 logic JUN 23 plot JUN 30 PICK TWO reason discretion zone stunt simple deadwood Tuba JUL 7 current JUN 14 devotion JUL 21 peer JUL 28 PICK TWO alligator bath vindictive caterwaul mildred bruises That’s Life AUG 4 speed AUG 11 lady AUG 18 partners AUG 25 PICK TWO German in the darkness… vehicle halfway cute color-coded Pan SEP 1 furrow SEP 8 dresser SEP 15 void SEP 22 net SEP 29 PICK TWO void intertwine den get fudged meltdown Tan OCT 6 smutty OCT 13 sturdy OCT 20 tool OCT 27 PICK TWO saucy holidays turtle boom cluster chainsaw Breast NOV 3 boom NOV 10 who cares? NOV 17 option NOV 24 PICK TWO panel

Ted isn’t a good administrator, but it’s so hard to fire people from this state-run research hospital. Also, he’s the nephew of one of the boardmembers. He’s not going anywhere. Especially after we lured him into the new South wing of the hospital that’s under construction. We tied him up and immersed him in fresh concrete. Smoothing out the slab to make sure there’s no sign of Ted was a challenge, but not as much as making it look like he took a trip out of town and simply vanished. His phone started ringing, but thankfully, the battery died quickly.

It took a long time for Trina to recover from the attack. After years of therapy, she got over her fear of homeless people. Now, she was filled with searing hatred for them, and what they did to her. At first, she’d dress up as a nun and hand out poisoned sandwiches to beggars. But they wanted money, So, she handed out counterfeit money. She made big plans for the city’s charity Thanksgiving feast. Forty-three jugs of tainted gravy. Thousands of people died. It was like Jonestown. Trina went from body to body, offering prayers, and trying not to grin.

Ever been in a water balloon fight? Buy a bag of balloons, fill them with water, fill up a pillowcase, and start throwing them at everyone else? It’s fun. And a great way to keep cool in the summer. But not fun on the bus. Or the subway. Or on a plane. Still, I buy the balloons, and fill them up. But I fill them with urine. I get on the Lexington Avenue line, and wait for the train to fill up with suits. “Next stop, Wall Street,” the voice announces. I reach into my pillowcase, grin, and begin throwing.

It’s not every day you see a unicorn. They’re an endangered species. Just my luck, I’m looking at one through my rifle scope. It’s standing between me and the deer I’ve been tracking. It knows it’s in my way. It’s doing this to piss me off. It’s taunting me. Daring me to shoot. I unchambered the round and lowered my rifle. Bastard. That’s then the unicorn charged. I tried to raise my rifle and fire at the beast, but the son of a bitch gored me and threw me into the thicket. No wonder why these nasty fuckers are endangered.

To prove how easy it is to get an assault rifle, reporters have been going to gun shops and purchasing AR-15s and ammunition. The problem is, what do the reporters do with these rifles after they buy them? Some turn them back in to the gun store for a refund. For others to buy. Some turn them in to the police, who auction them off. Some leave the gun in their closet. No child safety lock or gun safe. So, their kids might come across the gun and… shoot themselves? Shoot others? More proof how dangerous guns are, of course!

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at oneadayuntilthedayidie.com. This is the Weekly Challenge, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic. We’ve got stories by: * Lizzie * Richard * Serendipity * Tom * Jon * Norval Joe * Tura * Planet Z LIZZIE To my grandmother who loved daisies Winter is coming, they say. The flowers will go to sleep. But these daisies flourished on. They never gave up. The rain flooded the flower pots. The snow stifled everything cold. And they still managed to bloom. He plucked a few and placed them in a beautiful jar. They collapsed that same day. It was strange but also somehow comforting. Eric felt his grandmother had something to do with this because she loved daisies. He sneered. “Yes, Granny is watching from heaven and all that.” Heaven was a strange concept for him. But then again, resilient daisies were that too. RICHARD Jacked off The day that Jack exchanged the cow for a bag of ‘magic’ beans was not one he’d look back on with any pleasure. His mother was unimpressed and flung them out of the window, whilst Jack hid away in his room and hoped she’d forgive him. Turns out the beans weren’t beans at all, but flower seeds, and the next morning the garden was full of gigantic sweet peas. He picked a bunch for his mum to placate her. It didn’t make her any happier though – she didn’t have a vase anywhere near large enough to display them in. SERENDIPITY It starts, almost imperceptibly; a tingling, pricking, stinging sensation that slowly grows and spreads. Over time, the pain begins to blossom and grow, like a flower unfurling its petals reaching out towards the light. Tendrils enveloping your vitals, spreading throughout your body. The pain fills every fibre of your being; poisoning you, destroying you – both body and mind. Then, in the fullness of time, when the time is ripe, I burst forth from the husk of your body… An explosion of blood and gore. My spores, flying through the fetid air, seek out new hosts to make their home. TOM A Dash of Panache As I noted last week I began my forays into courtship in the last 60s and by way of the timing of said wooing had little to go on except the practices of the two decades before. Theirs humble epochs were informed by the machinations proposed by the film of that time. A care taken to impression a celluloid female was to produce from behind ones back a gathering of flowers. The choice of roses a premium, thus a more excellent level of the heart. The wrinkle I add to this was to give half the bouquet to the mother. JON Katheryn Hepburn By Jon DeCles The Corpse Flower produces the largest unbranched inflorescence of any plant in the world. It blooms rarely and people travel long distances to see it, and inhale the pungent odor of decaying meat. Its dark burgundy color looks like meat, and it raises it temperature to 98 F. to further imitate the preferred diet of the carnivorous insects that come seeking a meal and leave disappointed: but covered with the pollen that ensures the survival of the species. If you have a greenhouse and you are tired of saying “Oh Look, the Calla Lilies are in bloom,

Hi there. This is Laurence Simon of the 100 Word Stories Podcast at oneadayuntilthedayidie.com. Every week, I post a topic for the Weekly Challenge, where you come up with the stories and I collect them up and share them. Want to give it a try? The topic of the next 100 Word Stories Weekly Challenge is PICK TWO Bubbling Saffron Lime Axial Repetition Can Spaceship: Write a 100 word story on that topic. Then, send it in an email to isfullofcrap (at) gmail.com with the subject line of WEEKLY CHALLENGE. Do you have a website where people can learn more about you and your writing? Include the URL to that website. Also, suggest a topic or topics for future Weekly Challenges. Most importantly, include a recording of your story. Be sure to introduce yourself to the audience. I put the episode together on Sunday morning. However, if you need more time, I can put your story up on the feed in a separate post. Good luck, and as always… keep it brief. NOV 18 PICK TWO Bubbling Saffron Lime Axial Repetition Can Spaceship NOV 25 Don’t I feel stupid… DEC 2 Too much DEC 8 Polar DEC 16 Belt DEC 23 Irritation DEC 30 PICK TWO Reflect Pounce Gymnastics Obsolete Engage Girls Easier And for 2019… JAN 6 corner JAN 13 adult JAN 20 jam JAN 27 PICK TWO judge delivery your lion unicorn cherry Incense FEB 3 transmission FEB 10 mug FEB 17 sharp FEB 24 PICK TWO bob stitch eaten pittance delete trumpet Ticket MAR 3 wordy MAR 10 kill MAR 17 why can’t you be more like your sister? MAR 24 confluence MAR 31 PICK TWO standard blinding blithering pony sparkle amuse Fire APR 7 emotive APR 14 charge APR 21 potato chips APR 28 PICK TWO hire heart attack strip weaponize fink nancy Bumbling MAY 5 jack MAY 12 slurp MAY 19 zone MAY 26 PICK TWO stunted growth bath passive pelt atmosphere nameless Tendency JUN 2 surrounded JUN 9 losing JUN 16 logic JUN 23 plot JUN 30 PICK TWO reason discretion zone stunt simple deadwood Tuba JUL 7 current JUN 14 devotion JUL 21 peer JUL 28 PICK TWO alligator bath vindictive caterwaul mildred bruises That’s Life AUG 4 speed AUG 11 lady AUG 18 partners AUG 25 PICK TWO German in the darkness… vehicle halfway cute color-coded Pan SEP 1 furrow SEP 8 dresser SEP 15 void SEP 22 net SEP 29 PICK TWO void intertwine den get fudged meltdown Tan OCT 6 smutty OCT 13 sturdy OCT 20 tool OCT 27 PICK TWO saucy holidays turtle

Every time there’s a tragedy or terrorism or bombing. Or worse. We are all… Parisians. New Yorkers. Barcelonans. Orlando. Charlie. We change our Facebook and Twitter icons. We post our hashtags. Je Suis… what is it today? Except, not always. There’s one exception: Israel. Oh, it’s not Anti-Semitism, it’s Anti-Zionism. How dare you accuse me of that, you filthy Jew? Go back to where you came from. Well, we did. And they want to kill us there, too. Fifty-seven hundred years, we’ve watched empires rise and fall. We’ll watch yours rot and crumble, too, as the next takes its place.

The blood wasn’t even dry when the investigators went into the club. Counting the bodies and bullets and shell casings. Measuring this, photographing that. Puling out wallets, looking in purses. Identifying the dead so others could tell their families. The ones who were calling over and over. The cell phones rang. So many of them. A mad symphony surrounded the investigators. One had a gunfire ringtone. They set that phone to vibrate. It fell off of the evidence table. And it danced on the floor, skittering around in a circle. Over and over. As its brothers and sisters played on.

They say that watching paint dry is boring, but have you ever done bodypaint? That’s not boring to watch, although you’re not really watching the paint dry. You’re looking at the body. The best bodypainting doesn’t look naked at all, but you still sense that something’s unusual about it. And then you see it. And you can’t unsee it. That person is naked, and what you thought were clothes are actually painted on. Or stripes. Or some other pattern. That’s a powerful magic, really. And here we are, you and me. And some paint and a brush. Who goes first?

The blood wasn’t dry in Orlando before the agendas came out. Talking points, for every color in the political spectrum. Gun control, immigration, gay rights, terrorism… Accusations without solutions, calls for togetherness and understanding that end up just polarizing people even more. I’d say that pointing fingers is more dangerous than pointing guns, but a pointed finger never gets anybody killed. Unless its to point out more people to hate. And shoot. Oh, is the blood dry yet? Hey, can you take a photo of me? It’s this button here. It’ll focus automatically. Take a few, in case I blink.

Sometimes, I wake up early to do my laundry before work. One morning, as I was doing my laundry, I came across a tiny wet kitten. The kitten had either fallen into the pool or been thrown in. Either way, the little thing was sitting on the sidewalk. I leaned down, extended a hand, and the kitten mewed and approached. I pet the kitten, and then went back in for a can of chicken. The kitten rubbed against my legs, but eventually ate the chicken. By the time I finished laundry, the kitten was gone. I hope that it’s alright.

Feminists are right when they claim that God is a she, but God’s not the maternal type. God’s a washed-up old barfly, the last out the door at Last Call every night. You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here. So, who does God stay with? Whoever she manages to pass out on, she always manages that. A mumbling, wrinkled old hag on the sofa. She’s never there the next morning. Where did she go? Did she steal anything? Who knows? Until the bar opens again, when she’s the first in the door, ready for another night.