The 100 Word Stories Podcast

A Literature, Arts and Performing Arts podcast

Claimed
1 Rating

The 100 Word Stories Podcast Episodes

Recent Episodes

The Picnic of Ants

  • about 3 hours ago

I remember watching a movie about giant ants attacking a town and wondering why they didn’t just hold a giant picnic to lure the ants away. “What happens when the picnic runs out of food?” my mother asked. “That’s when the poison in it should start killing the ants,” I replied. My mother smirked, then got a glassy look in her eyes. And fell face-down in the Jell-o mold. I cleared away the plates and dishes, packed them in the picnic basket, and wrapped her in the picnic blanket. I’d have to go back to the car for the shovel.

Mystery by Aspen

  • 1 day ago

One dark and stormy night in a haunted forest lived a child unable to escape the walls of her family home. Only there now to watch over ones she left behind. Her only means of getting out was to attach herself to another living only through what they felt, saw, touched and heard. The gift of laughter no longer her own, memories lived on in those who came after her life lived in stone. She knows who they are but to them shes an unknown, never spoke of in shame, a mystery of the little child cracked, locked in stone.

Weekly Challenge #651 – Mystery

  • 1 day ago

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: Richard Charlie Serendipity Jeffrey Tura Tom Norval Joe Planet Z RICHARD Scooby Don’t It’s a mystery to me how Scooby Doo managed to stay so popular for so long. Sure, I could understand the attraction of the geeky Velma, delectable Daphne and dependable Fred, but Shaggy didn’t have a lot going for him, even as a cartoon character. And who wouldn’t be impressed by a talking dog? But the stories themselves… Rubbish! Dark spooky building, apparently haunted; Mystery Machine rolls up; much running around, screaming, and colossal sandwiches; fatal error by ghostly presence; cops arrive; janitor unmasked. And he would have gotten away with it too, if it wasn’t for them pesky kids! CHARLIE The mystery oil applied to her face was advertised as removing wrinkles deep in her cheeks, over her lips and on her neck. She had no idea what it was, but it costs as much as her car payment for a sixty day supply. She assumed it would work. It worked. It tightened the skin so much on her face, that in order to appear curious, she had to raise her eyebrows with her fingers. The oil seemed to dissolve her skin to the point that cosmetic fillers would not be necessary. Botox, of course, was out of the question. #2 Chef Thomas drizzled the mystery sauce on the grilled steak. The sauce was his secret. Even the sous chefs had no idea what constituted the sauce. Thomas learned about the sauce when he traveled in the orient, visiting various villages. He was introduced to the sauce by an old woman. He slipped her three thousand Baht, and placed jars of sauce into his bag. On the trail back, he noticed that there were dogs following him, sniffing and pawing his bag. He had only seen this behavior once before. It was the day he cut his hand in the kitchen. SERENDIPITY I’m no fan of cop shows. The plot twists and turns required to keep the final outcome a mystery irritate me. That’s not how it works in real life, where the cops usually know what they’ve got at the start and, spend the rest of the investigation gathering supporting evidence. However, I do enjoy watching old episodes of Columbo, because unlike every other cop show, you see the crime being committed right at the beginning, you know who did it and how, right away. So, for any cops listening, I’ll make it simple… It was me: With my bare hands! JEFFREY The Lost Episode by Jeffrey Fischer “Crikey, it’s not a ghost at all, it’s Mr. Smithers!” cried Velma, pointing at the running man, his mask having slipped from his face. “Rister Rithers?” Scooby said, confused as usual. “Make sure he doesn’t get away!” Daphne said. Always the sharp one, that Daphne. “Radical, man.” That was Shaggy’s contribution. “Don’t worry, gang, we’ve got him. Get in the Mystery Machine,” Fred said. The fivesome piled into the van, slamming the doors shut. Flakes of rust rained on the pavement. Fred cranked the ignition a half-dozen times before the engine caught with a mighty backfire. He pushed down hard on the accelerator and the van… went nowhere. He adjusted the side mirror and saw a bright red boot clamped on the rear wheel of the van. “Shaggy, did you pay those parking tickets that you said you would?” Fred asked. Shaggy gave Fred a big, stoned smile and said, “I would have, but I had the munchies and spent the dough on a bag of hamburgers and fries.” “Rut-row.” TURA Mystery – An Ekphrasis ——— In a certain undistinguished town in Argentina lies the Plaza del Infinidad. You must enter it on a deserted summer afternoon, from the alley at the corner of the Curiñanca. Stare to the clock tower on the far side. It must be three o’clock. As you make toward it, it recedes, for after walking half way, always half the distance remains. The clock stands still at three o’clock. Here, in the mystery of the hour, somewhere there lies a mirror reflecting the entire universe, but only one has ever found it. The others wander still, lost in this infinite space. ——— TOM My First Mystery When I was a kid I uses to watch the Mickey Mouse Club on TV. Late 50’s stuff. They had this on goes section called The Mystery of the Applegate Treasure. It was Hardy Boys knock-off, but I was way too young to be able write, so the story was classic TV mind candy. There are this recurring scene in the series that never left me. A tight shoot of a gloved had tapping out a message on a phone so the boys could get this coded message. In the end it turn out to be the young female led. NORVAL JOE Billbert followed Mr. Withybottom up to Linoliumanda’s door. Everything about the situation was a mystery. Linoliumanda said she would only speak to him and Mr. and Mrs. Withybottom believed her. “Go ahead.” Mr. Withybottom pointed to the door. When Billbert reached for the doorknob Mr. Withybottom grabbed him by the wrist and growled, “Knock.” “Oh. Sorry.” Billbert raised his hand to pound on the door. Before he could, the door opened and Linoliumanda pulled him inside. Billbert had never seen so much pink in his life. “Um. What do we do now?” Billbert asked. Linoliumanda pulled him toward the bed. PLANET Z When Inspector Fred arrived at the scene, he couldn’t help but mutter “This is such a cliche.” A remote mansion, a long road and drive to the front door, a butler waiting at the front steps. And a once-innocent dinner party had become a murder mystery. The guests and staff were, of course, all suspects. Inspector Fred interviewed all of them They had reasons to kill the victim. But they also had alibis or reasons why they couldn’t have murdered the victim. So, Fred chalked it up to suicide and let them all go. “Asshole had it coming,” he said.

The topic of the next weekly challenge is TURTLE

  • 1 day ago

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 TURTLE: 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. If you hate the sound of your voice or can’t record your story for some reason or another, that’s your problem. Deal with it. I am not recording your story for you. Everything’s due by Sunday morning when I put the episode together. However, if you’re running late, I can put your story up on the feed in a separate post. Good luck, and as always… keep it brief. http://oneadayuntilthedayidie.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/thenexttopicisTURTLE.mp3 OCT 7 Dug OCT 14 Mystery OCT 21 Turtle OCT 28 PICK TWO Pagoda Winner Rustic Confusing Grinding Patience Arthur Crypt NOV 4 Dispute NOV 11 Braced NOV 18 Flower NOV 25 PICK TWO Bubbling Saffron Lime Axial Repetition Can Spaceship DEC 2 Too much DEC 8 Polar DEC 16 Belt DEC 23 Irritation DEC 30 PICK TWO Reflect Pounce Gymnastics Obsolete Engage Girls Easier BUILDING A POOL FOR 2019 corner adult jam judge delivery your lion unicorn transmission mug sharp stitch eaten pittance delete trumpet wordy kill why can’t you be more like your sister? confluence blinding blithering pony sparkle amuse emotive charge potato chips hire heart attack weaponize jack slurp zone stunted growth bath passive pelt atmosphere nameless surrounded losing plot reason discretion zone stunt simple deadwood logic current devotion peer bath vindictive caterwaul bruises speed lady partners German in the darkness… vehicle halfway cute color-coded furrow void net void intertwine den get fudged meltdown smutty sturdy tool saucy holidays turtle cluster chainsaw boom who cares? option panel acid current coma sassy the F word broken throne probiotic seventh

Summer camp

  • 2 days ago

Every Summer, my parents sent me to Camp Killer With A Hockey Mask. At first, I was worried that I would be killed by a killer in a hockey mask. But apparently, the camp’s name comes from the local Indian tribe. It’s just a coincidence that their tribe’s name resembles our words for a killer with a hockey mask. This was a relief… until campers started to disappear. “Oh, that’s because the tribe’s name actually translates to Killer With A Machete,” said the chief counselor. He picked up a bloody machete from his desk… and put on a hockey mask.

Down in the sewers

  • 3 days ago

Ted’s new birthday clown business wasn’t doing so well. Some kind of vengeful spirit in the form of a clown was wandering the sewers and murdering children. Ted had a certificate from the church that guaranteed that he wasn’t a vengeful child-murdering spirit. “I’m bonded, too,” said Ted. “Oh, and I tell jokes.” But that wasn’t enough for most parents. He tried a magic act, but he was too clumsy for magic tricks. And he had bad luck with keeping rabbits. Eventually, Ted gave up, and went back to working in the Water Department. “Just not Sewers, please,” Ted requested.

Johnson’s sack

  • 4 days ago

Of all the houses on the block, kids love to visit Old Man Johnson’s house on Halloween. The door opens, Johnson steps out with a large burlap sack, and the kids shout “TRICK OR TREAT!” “Here,” growls Johnson, and he throws the sack at the kids’ feet. It’s the possums that he’s caught in his traps. Live or dead, but often quite bloody. “Possums are good eatin!” the old man says. Kids toilet paper the trees in his yard a lot. Johnson rolls the toilet paper back up and keeps it. “Save me a trip to the store,” he chuckles.

Media Filter

  • 5 days ago

Bob was a censor for a social media corporation. It doesn’t matter which one, really. There are a lot of people like Bob at all of the social media corporations. All day long, he’d look through flagged images and content, judging whether something violated the platform’s standards. Awful things. Horrible things. Hellish things. And three buttons to click on: YES, NO, and ESCALATE. Over and over again, all day, and all night. Bob looked around the gigantic room. Rows of people at computers, reviewing similar horror and filth, judging it. Until all they knew was the evil in the world.

Bobby’s voices

  • 6 days ago

The voices in Bobby’s head told him to do things. “Clean your room,” they said. So, Bobby cleaned his room. “Mop up the mess in the kitchen,” they said. So, Bobby mopped up the mess in the kitchen. “Make the back yard took nice,” they said. So, Bobby bought plants and grass and flowers, and he planted them. The voices walked Bobby through a list of chores, and Bobby dutifully did them all. By the time the police arrived, there wasn’t a single shred of evidence left that he’d killed his parents. Just as the voices told him to do.

The Oracle

  • 7 days ago

King Frederick climbed Oracle Mountain to seek the wisdom of the gods. “Go away,” said The Oracle, throwing an empty bottle away and opening another. “I’ve come to seek-” “Yes,” said The Oracle. “Your future. The answers. Everybody does.” Frederick drew his sword “If you don’t tell me what my-” “I’ll die,” said The Oracle. “You’ll die. Everybody dies. But if you look past the daily bullshit, you’d know that already. Simple truth.” The king stood there for a moment, put his sword away, and gave The Oracle a hug. They sat on the mountain, drank, and watched the sunset.

Weekly Challenge #650 – Dug

  • 9 days ago

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: Norval Joe Richard Lizzie Charlie Jeffrey Serendipity Tom Planet Z NORVAL JOE Linoliumanda was crying and Mr. Withybottom thought Billbert could do something about it. In the luminescence of the street light, he dug his hands into the pockets of his hoodie as if he would find a solution among the bits of lint. He wasn’t used to talking to girls. “Sure. Okay, but, what am I supposed to say. Shouldn’t she talk to her mom, or something? I mean, she is a girl and everything.” “Don’t you think we’ve tried that?” Mr. Withybottom began, then softened his words again. “Linny won’t open her door. She says she’ll only talk to you.” RICHARD Rite of Passage ‘He had a good life’, I said to myself, and now his body had been laid to rest, the time had come to celebrate that life. As always on these occasions, I reached into the depths of my drinks’ cabinet and dug out the familiar bottle reserved for these sombre moments. I poured a generous measure of the twelve year old Macallan and drank a toast to his memory. Just a single tot – this bottle was saved only to mark a death. I swatted dead yet another irritating fly. ‘He had a good life’, I murmured, pouring another measure. LIZZIE The hole must be big enough, he thought. But he wasn’t sure he wanted to do it. He wasn’t sure he wanted another flower or worse, another task to take care of every day. Water the plant and add fertilizer, and all that. But he continued. Just a bit more, he thought. The hole was big enough for him to fit in it. This should do. He turned to stare at her horrified eyes. “Don’t worry my treasure, you’ll bloom like all the rest.” And he waved his arm around to show her dozens of mounds with beautiful flowers. CHARLIE I dug the vibes at Frank’s house. He always had a cigar box full of stems and seeds that needed cleaning, and as a reward there was plenty of good weed to roll up. He invited Mississippi Blind Lemon to play as a half dozen of us sat around the big living room, leaning on the walls and listening to Lemon sing and play funky blues. We drank Gallo Burgundy, and nibbled on apples and chips. Those were the days. No pretensions, no angry words, no one bumming anyone out and harshing anyone’s vibe. My ego dissolved away that summer. #2 I used a large auger on the post hole digger, and dug a hole in the back yard. I filled the hole with water, and tied a bucket to my feet. I jumped into the hole, pulling the bucket over my feet. I drowned in the tight hole, unable to move my limbs. The bucket covered me and hid me from anyone looking over the fence. The dogs left me alone, afraid of the bucket. A full year passed before someone came by, kicking the bucket, and exposing the skeleton in the post hole. The police ruled it an accident. JEFFREY Tomb Raider by Jeffrey Fischer The archaeology team stared at the dusty sarcophagus. Over the past months they had painstakingly burrowed their way into the burial chamber and carefully dug out the final resting place of the so-called Black Pharaoh, who was rumored to control the spirit world as well as all of Egypt. Now the team waited for Professor Bilson to open the object. Bilson hung back, reluctant to break the seals. Bilson could see no way of avoiding the honor while still saving face before his team and so, crowbar in hand, he pried open the heavy lid. The Black Pharaoh stared at Bilson, the ruler’s eyes full of life. As the pharaoh’s consciousness forced its way into Bilson’s mind, the professor screamed. SERENDIPITY For as long as I can remember, I’ve dug graves. As a child, I became something of an expert in digging them for expired pets; first my own, then as I developed an aptitude for the task, I started to offer my services to the neighbourhood children too. I’ve never been a professional gravedigger, despite keeping my hand in well into the present day… Let’s just say, I dig graves on an ‘informal’ basis, as the need arises. Only these days, I dig them vertical: There’s simply not enough space left in the garden to do it the traditional way! TOM It Was The 80s In past 100 word stories I have copped to the fact I have been a heavy video gamer. So it will come as no surprise I have dumped a bunch of coin into a “DIG DUG” arcade machine. Basic game play is you dig a number of vertical tunnels, get the monster to follow you up said tunnels that has a rock directly above, move out way of the falling rock, smash monster. The main strategy was to go deep, wait for monsters to combine at the bottom, led a line up tunnel to falling rock. Not exactly rocket science. PLANET Z Go ahead. Dig your own grave. Here’s a shovel. Don’t feel like digging with a shovel? Then here’s the address of a place you can rent a backhoe. You might need some lessons, though. I’m sure there’s a contractor you can hire. But that’s cheating. That’s someone else digging your grave. You’re supposed to dig your own grave. Maybe if you tried to dig in softer ground? You could use a pickaxe to break things up a big before you dig. Oh, and did you call the gas company to make sure it’s safe to dig? Safety first, you know.

The topic of the next weekly challenge is MYSTERY

  • 9 days ago

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 MYSTERY: 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. If you hate the sound of your voice or can’t record your story for some reason or another, that’s your problem. Deal with it. I am not recording your story for you. Everything’s due by Sunday morning when I put the episode together. However, if you’re running late, I can put your story up on the feed in a separate post. Good luck, and as always… keep it brief. http://oneadayuntilthedayidie.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/thenexttopicismystery-1.mp3 OCT 7 Dug OCT 14 Mystery OCT 21 Turtle OCT 28 PICK TWO Pagoda Winner Rustic Confusing Grinding Patience Arthur Crypt NOV 4 Dispute NOV 11 Braced NOV 18 Flower NOV 25 PICK TWO Bubbling Saffron Lime Axial Repetition Can Spaceship DEC 2 Too much DEC 8 Polar DEC 16 Belt DEC 23 Irritation DEC 30 PICK TWO Reflect Pounce Gymnastics Obsolete Engage Girls Easier BUILDING A POOL FOR 2019 corner adult jam judge delivery your lion unicorn transmission mug sharp stitch eaten pittance delete trumpet wordy kill why can’t you be more like your sister? confluence blinding blithering pony sparkle amuse emotive charge potato chips hire heart attack weaponize jack slurp zone stunted growth bath passive pelt atmosphere nameless surrounded losing plot reason discretion zone stunt simple deadwood logic current devotion peer bath vindictive caterwaul bruises speed lady partners German in the darkness… vehicle halfway cute color-coded furrow void net void intertwine den get fudged meltdown smutty sturdy tool saucy holidays turtle cluster chainsaw boom who cares? option panel acid current coma sassy

I don’t feel like talking

  • 9 days ago

You send me messages, you bang on the door, but I don’t feel like talking. Most people say “I don’t feel like talking” but that’s talking. And I don’t feel like talking. At all. So, I don’t respond at all. More messages. More screams. “Why aren’t you talking to me?” I know why, and I could tell you, boy, could I tell you. But, once again, I don’t feel like talking. So, I say nothing. For days… weeks… The nights are colder, quieter. And I reach for the door to the basement. But you’ve probably starved to death by now.

Doctor Odd and Killbot

  • 10 days ago

They say that if you love something, set it free, and if the love is true, it will come back. Doctor Odd loved Killbot, his finest creation. “Go,” said Doctor Odd, pushing Killbot out the door. “Be free.” Killbot downloaded maps and calculated the most efficient route through the city. For three weeks, Doctor Odd sat on the porch, watching the carnage. And then, he saw the red glow of Killbot’s eyes. It was back! “You really love me!” shouted Doctor Odd. Then he remotely turned Killbot off. Love may be blind, but sometimes facial recognition algorithms can be unreliable.

Jason and the soup

  • 11 days ago

It’s not a good idea to get between Jason and his vegetable soup. Jason really likes vegetable soup, and he’ll do anything to get it. Sure, Jason is in a wheelchair, and he has a robot that spoons vegetable soup to his mouth, but that robot arm can do some nasty things. Once, this nurse got between Jason and his vegetable soup. She isn’t his nurse anymore. She barely survived, and ended up in a wheelchair, also being fed soup by a robotic arm. Jason likes to park his wheelchair between her and her soup, just to rub it in.

Costume Crafting

  • 12 days ago

Popular culture moves so quickly these days. It’s hard to manufacture relevant and topical Halloween costumes in time to reach the market. By the time something hits the shelves, it’s already passe and out of date. Sure, you could make your own, but that takes effort. And, once again, by the time you finish sewing and gluing, it’s already out of date. That’s why Melvin uses his 3D printer to manufacture his costumes. He uses a series of colored resins to fabricate the suit and mask and gloves. Directly on to his body. That way, the painful screams are genuine.

Edgar the Whacker

  • 13 days ago

They called him Roger the Butcher. Never mind that he went by his middle name “Edgar.” Or that he wasn’t a butcher. He was a plumber. Nor was he butchering his victims. He preferred to just whack them on the back of the head with a pipe. But the papers didn’t like the name “Edgar the Whacker.” So they call him “Roger the Butcher” because that sounded better. Edgar had already picked out a domain name, registered a trademark, and established a social media presence. So he started whacking reporters. “WHAT’S MY NAME?” he shouted. “EDGAR THE WHACKER!” they screamed.

Witch Hunt

  • 14 days ago

Teddy got his first witch hunting license when he was thirteen. Before that, Teddy’s dad would bring him along, but wouldn’t let him do more than carry an equipment bag. “Thirteen is old enough,” said Teddy’s dad, handing Teddy a torch and pitchfork. “These were your grandfather’s, and now they’re yours.” They set up a blind in the old creepy woods by a growth of deadly nightshade. The witches came to harvest under the full moon. Teddy bagged two sorceresses, and his dad tied them to the roof of the jeep. They burned them at the stake in the backyard.

Weekly Challenge #649 – PICK TWO: Minefield, Fountain, Angle, Craft, Sodium, Salute, Engine, Candle, Case

  • 16 days ago

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: Charlie Lizzie Richard Tom Serendipity Jeffrey Tura Eva Harley Aspen Norval Joe Planet Z CHARLIE The minefield skirted the fountain. If the careless crossed at the wrong angle, the chemistry and the genius behind the craft of the sodium incendiary would remove anything above two feet off the ground. The giant salute would drive the engine that extinguished each candle in the troop. In case anyone survived the blast, the entrenched squad would take them out with fifties. The war started because two idiots disagreed about the demarcation between the two countries. In reality it was a simple fence line that was at the basis of the war that killed thousands and maimed thousands more. #2 The case held the candle that was used to start the kindling in the boiler. The boiler produced the steam that drove the engine. As the operator steered the heavy device, he would salute the officers in the stand. He’d throw a pinch of sodium in the boiler. The heavy machine would later evolve into a seagoing craft. The angle of the bow could slice through the seas, leaving a fountain of spray in its wake, and a veritable minefield of surf at the stern. Surfers would cheer any time the craft put out to sea or circled the bay. -Music: Crazy Glue by Josh Woodward LIZZIE The train left the station. It was empty. No passengers. Halfway, the engine exploded. There was only one casualty. No one knew that the train was packed with cases of secret files, the kind of files that would have been talked about for weeks. The explosion was not reported in the media. When John, the farmer, picked up a bunch of bits and pieces of paper off his land, a reporter showed up. The reporter was told to get the hell off his property. John packed it all in a box and burnt it. He knew when to shut up. RICHARD Journey’s end? After many days of trekking through this God-forsaken rainforest, half eaten by biting insects and fearful of the ever present threat of venomous snakes, scorpions and who knows what other terrors lurk in the shadows, we finally attained our goal. Too late for Robinson, lost to the rapids and crocodiles; but it has been worth the cost, and we salute him for his sacrifice. There before us: The Fountain of Youth. The only problem – the map for our journey home had been lost with Robinson. But at least we now have a lifetime in which to retrace our steps! TOM BOOOM He was a most creative child. Built these Mindfield Fountains. Started out with strings of buried firecrackers, made his way up to rings of TNT. Finally with the help of the Turkish government he cover an area about the size of Rhode Island. It was pretty hard getting volunteers for the project, but the Turks were more than happy to help with that one. Good to the last Kurd. Last I heard of him he was working closely with a sleeper cell in South Africa. Or maybe it was Angola. Some call him gifted, I call him a fuck. SERENDIPITY I stood beneath the amber glow of the sodium streetlamp, lit up another cigarette and drew upon it contentedly. In the darkness across the street, a body lay, rapidly cooling, lifeblood draining thick and warm, into the gutter. It’s these moment’s I live for: The quiet, reflective peace that comes in the aftermath of violence. Time to dwell upon a job well done. Finishing my cigarette, I made the call. The Police would be arriving soon. And I’d be back too… Only in my official capacity, as detective inspector of homicide. Although this is one case that will remain unsolved. JEFFREY The Art of the Spiel by Jeffrey Fischer Kirsten uncapped the fountain pen and tapped the barrel against her teeth as she stared at the blank page. Slowly, word by word, the draft of her speech emerged. This was to be the most important talk of her career and she wanted to craft every sentence perfectly, highlighting her thoughts and avoiding the subject’s minefields. Unfortunately, Kirsten was a bad writer with incoherent ideas. Even the most exquisitely crafted pen could do nothing to improve the quality of the words on the page. The definitive word on “Sodium Chloride: A Salute to Salt” would have to wait for another day. TURA The test for the Controlled Variable ——— The spacecraft, pretending to be an asteroid, drifted on a path calculated to cross the asteroid belt. The minefield watched the incoming asteroid and calculated its path. It had a nearby mine send a puff from its ion engines that would nudge it into a very slightly different path, that in half a million miles would crash into another asteroid. The spacecraft sensed the impulse. It puffed gently with a thruster, to avoid the predicted collision. The mine observed the change of course. Coincidence? It puffed again. The spacecraft corrected its course again. The mine exploded. Twice is enemy action. EVA Anchovies and Extra Cheese The candle in the window was a ruse, you know. Men in pristine dark suits following the book by rote crouched behind bushes. Step one, have you rebooted? Step two, is it plugged in? No deviation, ever. The flame quivered as she laughed, allowing a quick glimpse of the case through the window. Like a scamper of rats they were as she made her way downstairs. Ding dong and a quick exchange. Moments later a scuffle and the empty pizza bag lay shredded. Domino’s delivers, she thinks. The documents? On the cat of course, sliding unnoticed into the storm drain. ASPEN Held Inside the Magical Craft Case Bits N Bobs, tacks and threads contained within a tiny space. Sitting by a fireplace the aged lady, nearing the end of life, had but one enjoyment left. Though the task heavier an ordeal to complete, the mere happiness from within it created was magical. A pin here, a stitch there, buttons for eyes and locks of golden yarn for hair. A doll is born from contents within, to be passed to a child to comfort N love, grow with and hold dear. A forever friend to hold secrets unbearable to share, created from the contents inside Grannys Craft Case. NORVAL JOE Billbert walked toward his home. When it occurred to him he should fly–it was dark and no one would see him–the sound of an engine approaching stopped him in his tracks. He turned to see a car angle toward him. Though the driver rolled down the window, glare from a sodium-vapor street lamp obscured Billbert’s vision. He raised his hand to his forehead like a salute, blocking the light, and asked, “Do you want something?” Mr. Withybottom growled, “Yes. I want you to come talk to Linny. She won’t stop crying.” In a much softer, gentler tone he added, “Please.” PLANET Z I love floating candles. My cat Piper loved them, too. She’d drink the water from the floating candle bowl. So, I took out the candles and she used them as water bowls. I needed a place to float my candles. So, I opened the back of the toilet and floated them in there. But they’d capsize and go out when the toilet was flushed. Or clog the pipe if they got past the flapper. Finally, I’d float them in the spare bathroom’s bathtub. And they looked really cool in there. But I rarely went in there to enjoy the lights.

The topic of the next weekly challenge is DUG

  • 16 days ago

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 DUG: 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. If you hate the sound of your voice or can’t record your story for some reason or another, that’s your problem. Deal with it. I am not recording your story for you. Everything’s due by Sunday morning when I put the episode together. However, if you’re running late, I can put your story up on the feed in a separate post. Good luck, and as always… keep it brief. http://oneadayuntilthedayidie.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/thenexttopicisDUG.mp3 OCT 7 Dug OCT 14 Mystery OCT 21 Turtle OCT 28 PICK TWO Pagoda Winner Rustic Confusing Grinding Patience Arthur Crypt NOV 4 Dispute NOV 11 Braced NOV 18 Flower NOV 25 PICK TWO Bubbling Saffron Lime Axial Repetition Can Spaceship DEC 2 Too much DEC 8 Polar DEC 16 Belt DEC 23 Irritation DEC 30 PICK TWO Reflect Pounce Gymnastics Obsolete Engage Girls Easier BUILDING A POOL FOR 2019 corner adult jam judge delivery your lion unicorn transmission mug sharp stitch eaten pittance delete trumpet wordy kill why can’t you be more like your sister? confluence blinding blithering pony sparkle amuse emotive charge potato chips hire heart attack weaponize jack slurp zone stunted growth bath passive pelt atmosphere nameless surrounded losing plot reason discretion zone stunt simple deadwood logic current devotion peer bath vindictive caterwaul bruises speed lady partners German in the darkness… vehicle halfway cute color-coded furrow void net void intertwine den get fudged meltdown smutty sturdy tool saucy holidays turtle cluster chainsaw boom who cares? option panel

Four legged friend

  • 17 days ago

Most people are referring to their dog or cat when they talk about a four-legged friend, or maybe something exotic like a pony, but when I say it, I’m talking about my pal Murray. Look, Murray’s had a hard life, having four legs. When he was born, his parents gave him up for adoption. His dad was a gambler, and everybody thought he was weird when he’d say “Baby needs two pairs of shoes.” And instead of getting a decent education, he spent most of his childhood in carnival sideshows. So, back off, or Murray will kick your ass. Twice.

Ukraine

  • 18 days ago

The Western Ukranians want closer ties to Europe and to have a Western democracy. The Eastern Ukranians want closer ties to Russia and to have an Eastern democracy, which is really just a socialist autocracy. Both point their fingers at each other and accuse them of being servants of the money-grubbing Jews. Me, I want them both to fuck themselves and die. Let them have their wars. Their massacres. Their war crimes. The more, the better. My people can move on to Spain or Israel or wherever they want. And leave these Jew-hating scum to their mutual prison and cemetery.

Tom that’s toast

  • 19 days ago

Tom is always buttering up his bosses. Literally. He carries around a butterknife and an insulated cooler with butter in it. The challenge is keeping the butter soft enough to spread, but not to allow it to spoil. Nobody likes the smell or taste of rancid butter. He could melt the butter and spray it with a power painter or a spray bottle, but he wants to butter up his bosses, not scald them. What do the bosses think about Tom’s attempts to butter them up? Security escorted Tom out the door this morning. I guess it’s Tom that’s toast.

Early release

  • 20 days ago

Centuries ago, the British would transport criminals across the oceans to Australia. Recently, scientists came up with a plan to transport criminals to the moon. Well, just the dangerous ones. The ones with life sentences and no possibility of parole. The prison was automated, with robot guards, hydroponic oxygen and food generation farms, and so on. The inmates were put to work building a moon colony for future residents. Do a good job, and you earn a release. And the plan worked. The colony was completed quickly, The prisoners were all released… to the cold, airless surface of the moon.

Best seller

  • 21 days ago

After years of trying to write The Great American Novel and failing, Fred gave up writing. “Why?” asked Joe, Fred’s agent. “I know you have it in you.” “No, I don’t,” said Fred. “But you do.” “Me?” Fred became Joe’s agent, and when Fred finished writing his novel, Joe shopped it around and got it published. Best seller. Fifteen weeks. Joe’s next nine novels were also best-sellers. Joe got famous, and Fred booked him on talk shows and book tours. They both made a good living. These days, you’ll catch them on the golf course. Joe lets Fred keep score.

00:00:00/00:00:00