Tag Archives: 100 words

Counting Down From Seven

boardwalk

PHOTO PROMPT © Peter Abbey

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How did I get to be so old? No, don’t answer that. Maybe I’ll just sit on a bench here on the pier. That’s better. Only us retirees out on a Wednesday. What time is it? Says nearly 9:15 a.m. on this funky handheld the alien gave me.

Well, he said he was an alien. Looked human to me when he accosted me in the Safeway parking lot last week. Countdown says seven minutes as of now. I wonder if I should have warned someone like he said? Too late now. Asteroid’s going to hit dead center of this pier.

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The Word

room

PHOTO PROMPT © Susan Rouchard

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Griffith had been searching for the last syllable, the last few letters of The Word for twenty centuries. It was rather anti-climactic that he should find it on a cheap bookshelf in this hovel.

He ran a grateful finger over the binding of the black tome on the lower shelf. The spine contained a letter only he could read. Once he assembled The Word and spoke it, a peace beyond all understanding would encompass the globe.

A sound from the doorway. “You have led Legion on a merry chase, Griffith. Or is it that we let you bring us here?”

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Dinnertime

farm

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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Sam grasped the fence post as nausea doubled him over. The throb on this right side spread around to his back. He wondered just how long seventy years of debauchery would take to kill him.

“Can’t be.” He tried to shake off his headache and clear his vision. “It is. But it can’t be. They’ve been dead for over 50 years. The old farm was sold at auction. It’s a damned subdivision now.”

Grandma stepped out of the barn and waved at him. “Sammy. Dinner’s about ready. Come on home.”

The twelve-year old boy scrambled down the path toward Heaven.

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Haunting Ice

ice

PHOTO PROMPT © Jennifer Pendergast

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Twelve-year-old Isabella used to resent having to spend two-weeks in January in Dad’s frozen cabin in the middle of nowhere. Two solid weeks of cold, gray suck.

She was in the mud room getting ready to go outside so Dad and step-mom could “try to make her a baby sibling.”

“Disgusting.”

She grabbed her skates. She would never use them again after she almost fell through the ice. Billy saved her just in time. Since then, she went to the pond to talk with Billy every day. He’d fallen through when he was her age. Now he’s the pond’s ghost.

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Not a Good Place to Die

susan

PHOTO PROMPT © Susan Rouchard

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I’ve been looking for a good place to die but this isn’t it. Just some French town, another bunch of tourists, and pigeons shitting all over the street.

At least it’s warmer here than the last place I showed up. I don’t have a lot of control over what part of the planet I land or how long I stay. Sometimes nothing happens, and sometimes there’s an adventure or whatever you want to call it.

But I’m tired of the world and I want a final resting place. This isn’t it, so I guess I’ll stop by the macaron shop.

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Night Justice

muddy waters

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

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They dragged her into the dank forest, foul water and mud clinging to her.

“You still believe that advocating for genocide is a matter of context?”

“There’s a difference between allowing hateful speech and advocating for the act of genocide.” She remained smug even as a prisoner.

He sneered. “There is no redemption for you. For the rest of your life, each night there is only the dream. Step beyond those trees. Tonight, you are Jüdin. The next, Nazi. Go.”

The woman slogged through the mud trembling with cold. There was a clearing beyond the trees and a sign. Auschwitz.

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2023: Reviewing My Year in My Stories

2023

2023 – the year as it was.

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The new year is rapidly approaching and it’s time for me to take you back through my accomplishments of 2023. They are better than last year but not as good as the year before. Oh well.

Let’s start off with my SciFi short story “Fall of the Tower” my first tale of 2023 published in One-Way Ticket: A Science Fiction Anthology by Starry Eyed Press. I’d been trying to get some version of this story published for years and finally hit upon the right presentation.

I took the story’s title from the Biblical tale of the “Tower of Babel” found in Genesis 11:1-9. The story began with that Biblical quote, but the publisher replaced it because they do not want to represent any particular religious viewpoint. So it goes.

This was followed by my short story “The Price” featured in Fantastic Schools, Volume Six and is my second magical schools tale published for Wisecraft Publishing. I’m not a big fantasy or magic school writer, but I’m proud of the magical system and story I crafted here. There’s always a price for using magic and it’s typically blood. Sometimes it is life and even many lives.

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The Times They Are A-Changin’

the ball

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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Trevor shivered in the cold wind as he made his way up W 45th street toward Times Square.

It had worked. Bobby Kennedy had originally supported his brother’s plan to bomb the Cuban missile sites. Fortunately, Trevor Ross was a historian and a time traveler. He blackmailed Bobby the same way Hoover had. Then something went wrong.

Yes, Kennedy had his secret meetings with the Soviet ambassador. However, what happened between them not only averted 1962’s Cuban missile crisis, but had changed everything when Trevor returned to 1980. How had New York City become the capitol of a Communist America?

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Does Santa Claus Climb Down Broken Chimneys?

abandoned

PHOTO PROMPT © Rowena Curtin

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“Round yon Virgin, Mother and Child, Holy Infant so tender and mild…”

Derek crouched by the fire barrel rubbing his hands together while Anna sang Christmas songs to her little girls.

“Another homeless fucking Christmas,” he muttered.

Old Saul backhanded him on the shoulder. “Hush and let those babies dream.”

“It’s all crap,” Derek hissed back. “There’s no blessing being homeless. Fifteen families freezing in this dump. No baby Jesus will save us.”

“You’re young yet, Derek.” Saul’s voice ground like a cement mixer. “Miracles aren’t money. Look around you. Being able to love in this hole is the miracle.”

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One Winter Evening

candles

PHOTO PROMPT © Susan Rouchard

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Soren basked in the candles’ glow as he had for so many years during this season. He neither celebrated the Hanukah lights nor the birth of the “Light of the World,” mercy forbid.

The presentation “Artwork by Candlelight” was a centuries old family tradition and he must leave soon. Explaining his presence would be awkward.

“Hello.”

He turned to the doorway. She couldn’t be more than five. “You are Daphine, the Baron’s granddaughter.”

“Who are you?”

He stared, considering a light snack, but then declined. The vampire came to honor his family’s legacy, not to dine on a distant cousin.

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