Forgetfulness

Scratching his head, the man struggled to remember where he’d seen her. He felt that he should know her! The look of concern on her face disturbed him, often others came with her, although they seemed distant. He liked the company even though he did not recognize them. Sometimes they would raise a fuss over him. The little ones pleased him most, climbing up on him, laughing, full of life. He always had a good sense of humor, but never telling the same joke twice, or always meeting new people. That’s about as far as his humor went concerning dementia!

From Guest Contributor Derrick Fernie

The Flower

From the observation tower Alice could finally see the true scale of The Flower of Vermaltarok III. A reptiloid rudely pushed in front of her to set up some trinoculars.

The local guide wiped sweat from her brow. "Attention! Should the alarm sound, immediately use the lift down to the bunker and remain there until the all-clear is given."

Alice found another viewing spot, mesmerized by the colors, ... the SIZE.

Lights flashed, and the doors to the lift opened. But the siren was drowned out by the thunderous buzzing that echoed across the valley and shook the floor and walls.

From Guest Contributor Ross Clement

The Mad King

You timidly stepped inside the royal chambers, unnerved by the rumors of random beheadings and incoherent proclamations. Many people went for a sovereign audience and were never heard from again.

An old man sat the throne. He looked regal, not crazed, dressed in the golden robes and diamond crown of his august office. He stared sternly as, wobbling, you inched forward. In his lap sat a cat, which he stroked gently.

The man opened his mouth to speak and you dropped to one knee.

"The King has an announcement to make."

Everyone froze as the King opened its mouth.

"Meow."

Journey

This is a long haul, intercontinental flight. In the allocated, limited space on the plane it is a matter of organizing myself.

The challenge is to get as comfortable as possible. In such a tight space it is not easy. I keep shifting position.

I can’t believe how cramped conditions are and quietly curse the designer.

A saying pops into my mind. It is the journey, not the destination.

Common words yet concise and sagacious, they resonate immediately.

The most contradictory thing about this wise saying strikes me; globally quoted, all the while remaining completely unknown in the airline industry.

From Guest Contributor Barry O'Farrell

Barry is an actor who sometimes writes, living in Brisbane, Australia.

The Arts Alliance of Pine Rivers has announced Barry's piece RETREADS as runner up in their most recent writing competition. Also, Barry's story ARMED will appear in The Flash Fiction Press during the last week of October.

What It Felt Like To Die

I plummet to the earth--the emerald field I stood upon moments before.

The one who injured me was merely a streak of shadows which approached, just as quickly as he vanished.

Below my navel is a tiny puncture. What was once unblemished flesh is now a faucet, bathing soil with my body's vital broth.

I realize my aorta is severed.

Clouds bob and flicker, bearing the faces of my family. I panic, fervidly trying to grasp them--their expressions are indifferent, unresponsive.

Instantly, tranquility engulfs me. Darkness eclipses my vision. I surrender, relishing the divine slumber that beckons me.

From Guest Contributor L. Michelle Corp

Granny

He didn’t want anyone to take this wrong but granny was a bit of a pain! She just sat in that rocker like a dried up old prune. She just sat there not moving or saying anything. But those pension checks kept rolling in, and he kept cashing them. He had power of attorney for her. He hated her place. The air was dry and smelled stale but he went there every week, making sure no one disturbed her. He couldn’t have that of course. If they found out she died three years ago, there’d be holy hell to pay!

From Guest Contributor Derrick Fernie

An Ending, A Beginning

Dr. Philippa Marsden awoke with a start, the hard cold wood of her desk on her forehead. She clasped her hands to either side of her head, as if she was trying to hold her splitting headache prisoner. Her breath wheezed through her pursed mouth, but the fever was gone.

"Jonathan?" He lay on the floor, white coat stained with blood, stethoscope laying beside him like a dead snake. Pulse? None.

Philippa ran from ward to ward, the cacophony of the previous night replaced by silence. Pulse? None. Repeat. She ran outside to the street..

"HELLO! ANYONE?" Nothing but silence.

From Guest Contributor Ross Clement

The Artist

I was smitten with her, and the pretty photos she mailed me.

I told her I'd plunder her supple body; that I imagined her rolling, like liquid, beneath me.She loved when I said her moans would ricochet off every surface of her lovely bedroom, glazing it in sinfulness.

I told her everything she wanted to hear.

Anticipating our first meeting, I created a collage of her photos: my vision of our tryst.

I savored each slice of my scissors as I dismembered her perfect limbs, her naïve, breathtaking head, rearranging each fragment of her like a scrambled jigsaw puzzle.From Guest Contributor L. Michelle Corp

Ashley Who?

My buddy George is sitting at the bar by himself, twiddling his wedding band. Often tempted to “kick over the traces,” he never succumbed to temptation.

“How long have you been married, George?”

“Long time. Dunno.”

“When crooks hacked the infamous adultery website, was your name on the list?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yep.”

“Well you must be the only male over 35 years of age in this town whose name isn’t on the list. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“I know.”

“I can tell you what the problem is George. You’ve been married too long.”

“Yeah. Too long.”

From Guest Contributor Barry O'Farrell

Barry is an actor who sometimes writes, living in Brisbane, Australia. Barry's stories can also be found at 101 Words, Cyclamens & Swords, 50 Word Stories and of course here at A Story In 100 Words.

I Had A Dream

That horrible dream kept coming back: there I was, a birthday girl at the local gas station purchasing the winning lottery ticket for the Mega Million jackpot.

As a devout Christian, I condemn gambling and other greedy activities. However, this dreadful nightmare made me feel shamefully happy and put my virtues in danger.

So, on my birthday, I resolved to resist Evil and locked myself home. The dream did not return.

The same night, some sleazy socialite from Miami stole the lucky numbers from my dream and won the Mega Million jackpot.

Some people have no decency, no decency at all.

From Guest Contributor Olga Klezovitch

Olga is a scientist who lives in Seattle. Her previous work has appeared in 50-Word Stories, A Story in 100 Words and Necon E-Books. Her "When It Dribbles, It Drabbles" Kindle book can be found at Amazon.com.