A Story In
100 Words
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You are invited to the wonderful world of microfiction. Whether you’re a reader, a writer, or one of our future robot overlords, welcome! A Story In 100 Words is a community of literature enthusiasts no matter the length, but we have a special predilection for narratives exactly 100 words in length.
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The Polish-Russian Frontier
Eurasian red squirrels live on the border of Poland and Russia. During severe winter storms they shelter inside their nests lined snuggly with twigs and moss. Ralph and Rayette were two Eurasian squirrels. After a fierce four-day blizzard, Ralph poked his snout out. It was 15 below…
“Look at the snow drifts, Rayette.”
She knew that when she’d seen one drift she’d seen them all.
“Hey, I forget, do we live in Russia now?”
“No, Ralph… The Russian frontier's 20 yards that way.”
“Well, that's a relief.”
“Huh?”
“I don't think I could survive any of those brutal Russian winters.”
From Guest Contributor David Sydney
Frank's Permission
Frank Grumley was old school. So, Ralph, who wanted to marry Claudette, spoke to her old man...
“It's right to ask for my consent, Ralph, because marriage is a frontier, and I want to protect my daughter. But about your work…”
“You mean, quantum electrodynamics? It's at the frontier of quantum mechanics.”
“Whatever.”
“I’ve been studying high intensity fields... You know -- where empty space itself becomes radically active.”
“Huh?”
“But I'm giving it up. I have an opportunity to go into my Uncle Harry's cement business.”
“Ralph, have you seen our driveway?... You're sounding more and more like a son-in-law.”
From Guest Contributor David Sydney
For the prompt Frontier
Devonian
Someone had to do it. There had to be a first fish that struggled onto land roughly 380 million years ago in the Devonian period. It so happened to be Mel. Ed and Gosnold were two Devonian fish who waited in the shallow water for Mel to return.
He was almost completely out of breath.
“So?”
“What’d you mean, Ed?”
“So, what was it like?”
“Oh, yeah, dry land… Well, it was dry. And it was sandy.”
“Do you think there's a future on dry land, Mel?”
“Could it be the next frontier, Mel?”
“Nah, Gosnold… It's just dry sand…”
From Guest Contributor David Sydney
David is a physician who writes fiction in and out of the EHR (Electronic Health Record).
For the prompt Frontier
Sawdust
In 1870, no town in the Wild West was as dangerous or dusty as Sawdust, Nevada. Public drunkenness, gunfights in the main street, and rotting buildings - that was Sawdust.
For every drunken gunfighter there were several termites. Moe, Curly, and Mel were three of them. Al was the termite boss.
Termites build multi-tiered mounds.
“Moe, you're working on the back tier… Curly, you're in the middle…”
Al twisted his antennae.
“Mel, you're on the front tier.”
“Please, not the Frontier.”
“I said the front tier… But wait a minute…”
He knew Mel. Maybe he should send Mel into downtown Sawdust…
From Guest Contributor David Sydney
For the prompt Frontier
9 Months
For 9 months things had been great. But now Mel was in the birth canal. He faced the Delivery Room, Dr. Fromberg, the obstetrician, and then the whole extra-uterine frontier. He didn't like it. He dug in his heels and tried to crawl back.
But Dr. Fromberg didn't care. He’d dealt with problems like Mel before. When it came to pulling neonates into their so-called lives, he was prepared to do so. After all, he'd been yanked into his life 53 years before.
Yes, the first thing Mel did in this new frontier was cry… And could anyone blame him?
From Guest Contributor David Sydney
Intergalactic
Edna and Ed Grumley had no idea they were at the very frontier of intergalactic space exploration that Saturday. Edna was on a double chaise lounge next to Ed in his Hawaiian Gonzo shirt. In the sky above...
Yes, a UFO from the Andromeda Galaxy hovered over Edna, Ed, and their above-ground pool.
“No. 385, this’s too much. Look at those two.”
“Look at that pool, No. 4078A.”
In all of Andromeda, they’d experienced nothing like Edna, Ed, or the dead flies and moths floating in the pool.
“You know, No. 385... You can push a frontier just so far…”
From Guest Contributor David Sydney
For the prompt Frontier
Nothing Unusual
Rayette answered the early morning cellphone call from Ralph.
“Look out your window, Rayette.”
They lived close to one another in Northeast Philadelphia and shared pretty much the same view of the sky and the rest of the Universe.
“Do you see it? I'm pretty sure this time.”
She checked.
“No, Ralph, it's not a UFO.”
“I think I see one.”
She rechecked.
“How many times do I have to tell you there’re no such things as UFOs. You're wrong.”
“Not a flying saucer, huh?”
“No… Can't you see it’s only Superman zipping back-and-forth.”
“Nothing unusual?”
“No.”
“Only Superman?”
“Exactly.”
From Guest Contributor David Sydney
A Dozen
Mort motioned to the waitress who took her time getting to the booth.
“Is this place okay?”
“Okay?”
“Yeah. I just saw a fly.”
The waitress, with the name ‘Marge’ stenciled on her food-stained uniform, twisted her face.
“Are you sure?”
“I know a fly when I see one. And Claudette saw another one over there.”
Claudette nodded, pointing to the empty counter where a bulbous-headed insect stumbled erratically.
“Only two?”
“What’d you mean ‘only?’”
“Look, I get your point. A dozen or more flies aren't going to be wrong about a diner. But you saw only two in here…
From Guest Contributor David Sydney
Upon The Blasted Heath
The three witches planned a hell-broth for Macbeth. Their boiling cauldron was ready for the eye of newt, toe of frog, wool of bat, tongue of dog…
“Wait a minute.”
Hecate, the main chef, added extra frown lines to her wrinkled face.
“Look at the flies on the newt’s eye and frog's toe.”
The dog’s tongue, lizard’s leg, and Howlett's wing were also covered.
“The recipe doesn't call for that many flies.”
So Macbeth passed, on his way to Duncan's camp, undisturbed by the Weird Sisters, but swallowing flies. The bulbous-headed insects were murderously thick that night on the heath.
From Guest Contributor David Sydney
Another Boring Dinner
It was another Wednesday night, and…
“What's for dinner, Rayette?”
“We’re going to have Escargot a la Bourguignonne, followed by Confit de Canard, finished off with double-baked cheese soufflé, Ralph.”
“Oh, no… Not Escargot a la Bourguignonne, Confit de Canard, and soufflé again.”
“Come on, Ralph… Don't complain.”
“But couldn't we have something different for a change?… Maybe chicken fingers?”
“You know I don't know how to cook chicken fingers.”
“I could try, Rayette.”
“No, Ralph… The last time you tried chicken fingers, they tasted like Coq au Vin, and you know how much I dislike Coq au Vin.”
From Guest Contributor David Sydney
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