Chase

Squealing brakes was the last sound Jonathan Perry heard. A red 1997 Ford Mustang slammed into him as he legally crossed at the corner of Matthews and 25th.

Seven blocks and 45 seconds later, the left leg of Kirsten Tolliver was shattered by a silver 2007 Honda Civic as she waited, ironically enough, for her bus to the hospital.

At Lincoln and 62nd, the Palmer family, James and Stephanie, their daughter Iris, and their half-Lab, half-Dalmatian Patches, were struck head on by the aforementioned Mustang as it merged into oncoming traffic.

This was the point at which the chase ended.

The Ceramic Urn

We own a precious family heirloom; a ceramic urn. Well, it may be precious in the sense of sentimental value but we would like to know more about it. We sent it to an expert.

All eight family members now assemble around the boardroom table to learn the expert’s opinion. The family elect me to read out the report.

“This ceramic urn is African. When the rim chipped centuries ago, someone fitted a silver collar which helped preserve it. In our estimation, it is at least 500 years old.”

“It’s the same age as Granddad!”

Granddad smiles, displaying his fangs.

From Guest Contributor Barry O'Farrell

Barry O'Farrell is an actor living in Brisbane, Australia. Barry's other stories have appeared in Cyclamens & Swords, 50 Word Stories and of course here at A Story in 100 Words.

Drink

"Drink!"

Gunnar raised the cup to his lips, the sickening in his stomach impossible to ignore.

"Drink!"

Gunnar gagged down one more cup, a temporary respite from the bile in his throat.

"Drink!"

Gunnar could barely focus on his hand, let alone make out his fellow revelers. The entire universe had shrunk down to just him and his cup.

"Drink!"

There was echoing laughter as Gunnar collapsed to the floor. It sounded distant, like it was coming from another hall.

"Drink!"

Gunnar's final thought was that he hoped losing a battle with his cups was good enough to enter Valhalla.

Irish Ned

Farming is messy! Locals cling to the old ways; Tractors and pranks pass the wet summers. Old greying Ned couldn't drive. Two young bored farmhands picked fun.

'Label the pedals,' Ned instructed. Laughing, the word 'brake' was put on the clutch and 'clutch' on the brake. After a struggle Ned called brusquely,'I'm going on the beer.' His men kindly laced the ale with castor oil. Walking like a duck Ned struggled to the gate and wasn't seen for two days.

In the field the wife cried, 'What did you do to my Neddy? The sofa and bed are ruined!'

From Guest Contributor Kerry Valkyrie Baldock Kelly

The Sheriff From Little Spring

The sheriff from Little Spring, Wyoming had a reputation for tenaciously hunting any outlaw who passed through his town. Lawbreakers were so rare, in fact, that he had taken to bounty hunting in the neighboring counties. Whenever a bank robber or horse thief saw his white ten-gallon in the distance, they fled immediately. But to no avail. The sheriff from Little Spring never failed once he caught the scent.

The truth was, if he had had his druthers, the sheriff would have been an outlaw himself. His fanaticism was born more out of a sense of jealousy than of justice.

Medic

As we flee the bank, I hear the sound of a gunshot behind me.

I’ve never been shot before but suddenly I’m experiencing a strange sensation and call out, “I think I’ve been shot.” Just my luck to take a bullet.

“I’ll get you tended to,” says Zac. I knew he would. Zac’s reliable like that.

Zac half carries me to our getaway car. I feel myself fading during the rough car ride. “Here we are,” says Zac.

“Tattoo parlour,” I moan in disbelief. “You’ve brought me to a tattoo artist?”

“He’s famous”, says Zac reassuringly, “For good body piercing.”From Guest Contributor Barry O'Farrell

Barry O'Farrell is an actor living in Brisbane, Australia. Barry's other stories have appeared in Cyclamens & Swords, 50 Word Stories and of course here at A Story in 100 Words.

Blink

She’d strain each time to keep her eyes open as long as possible, until tears were rolling down her cheeks, but no amount of effort was enough to stop the inevitable.

The lifetimes had started to pile up, some tragic, some painful, all of them heart-wrenching in one way or another, but never were they uneventful. There were times when she wanted a new life but usually she became attached and knowing she had to let go was the worst part.

But what could she do? She was cursed to live an entire lifetime with each blink of an eye.

Her Date

She didn’t let anger precipitate her tears. Not yet. She was intent on finding the man of her passion. Approach him head-on. Strike him repeatedly with fiery bolts as thunderclouds rolled in her eyes.

Stiletto heels clicked her steps up the runway to where he lived. She rang the doorbell. Waited.

How could he forget a special day or ignore it?

She noticed the door ajar. Pushed it. Entered a dark apartment.

“Surprise,” voices screamed in unison. Lights went on.

Her beau poked his head into view from the other side of the door.

“Happy birthday, honey,” he managed sheepishly.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. Her work has been published at: Nailpolish Stories, 50-Word Stories, 100 word story, Boston Literary Magazine, From the Depths (Haunted Waters Press), ShortbreadStories, and espresso stories.

Sid

Tears streamed from Charlotte's blue eyes. Her protective doberman 'Sid' had died. Even her job as a vet did not help. The cancer had spread. Two weeks after Sid's sad demise Charlotte tied her brown locks into a bun and returned to saving other pets' lives. She accepted only token payments to cover her lonely expenses.

One moonlit evening whilst withdrawing takeaway cash a scuffle ensued. Police arrested a crook from the off license nearby. As he was dragged away the thief shouted back,

'Lady, you're lucky you had a big dog watching you, I was gonna rob you first!'

From Guest Contributor Kerry Valkyrie Baldock Kelly

Each Other's Company

Barbara and Dave fought more on vacation, and much more intensely, than any other time in their marriage.

"I wish you'd just shut up about it," Barbara finally shouted.

"As soon as you admit that this time it wasn't my fault," Dave countered.

"Okay, it's not your fault. Are you happy now?"

"Yes." Having gained her absolution, Dave stopped bickering and turned away.

Neither of them spoke for a long time. They just bobbed quietly in the water, wishing the other one wasn't there. It would have been better to die alone than to endure each other's company a moment longer.

This is a 101-word story I wrote for 101 Words. You should check out their site.