How To Write A Love Letter In 100 Words

Love letters are beautiful and they are really fun to write, especially when you are writing it for yourself and not for others. But nowadays, there are a considerable number of copywriters doing the job for you, for money. Maybe it's time to take back writing love letters. How can you write a love letter in 100 words if you are not good at writing, you may wonder. The answer is actually very simple.

Write "I love you" 33 times and "I..." once. That makes it simple and infinite. Just title it A Love Letter in 100 Words, or else...

From Guest Contributor Debarun Sarkar

Debarun sleeps, eats, reads, smokes, drinks, labors and occasionally writes stories and submits them. Recent works have appeared or are forthcoming in Visitant, Off the Coast, The Opiate, Peeking Cat Poetry, Literary Orphans, In Between Hangovers, and here at A Story in 100 Words, among others. He can be reached at debarunsarkar.wordpress.com

A Night On An Empty Skywalk

The skywalk at the Santa Cruz railway station which connects SV Road in the west to the highway in the east was empty that night. He took his time to walk eastward, each slow step was counted so as to not reach shelter too quickly. Sleep was not cheap.

On the eastern end, another man was on the run from the police with a gun in his hand, having outdone the police. The emptiness of the skywalk seemed like the best possible thing. He could make his escape. Only then he saw a well-dressed man walking lethargically on the bridge.

From Guest Contributor Debarun Sarkar

The Billionaire's Mistress

The detective smoked on the cigar as he watched the new client walk in. The person was evidently from the lower rungs. Quite distinct from his general clientele. He wondered where did she get the reference, money, and the confidence to approach his office.

"I'm a mistress of the owner of Exotic Chemicals. His daughter has gone missing. I'm here to represent the owner."

As he put down the cigar on the ashtray, he recalled the magazine stories about the secretive billionaire. The conspiracy theories on film raced across his vision as the client opened her lips to speak again.

From Guest Contributor Debarun Sarkar

Debarun sleeps, eats, reads, smokes, drinks, labors, and occasionally writes stories and submits them. Recent works have appeared or are forthcoming in Visitant, Off the Coast, The Opiate, Aainanagar, Rat’s Ass Review, Tittynope, and here at A Story in 100 Words, among others. He can be reached at debarunsarkar.wordpress.com

Grief, Lack, And The Last Transmission

The cities were brought to a grinding halt by the death of the Great Leader. There was grief and tears, on personal media feeds, the walls, the screens, holograms, everywhere, even the real faces and eyes.

The psychologist-in-charge at the ground control station of the manned extra-solar expedition warned her supervisor not to intimate the traveling crew. She had warned, but the supervisor in his grief, blurted out the news to the Captain.

That was the last the world ever heard of the traveling space shuttle and of its crew. XT9 became a haze among the frequencies and disappeared forever.

From Guest Contributor Debarun Sarkar

Debarun sleeps, eats, reads, smokes, drinks, labors and occasionally writes stories and submits them. Recent works have appeared or are forthcoming in Visitant, Off the Coast, The Opiate, Aainanagar, Literary Orphans, Friday Flash Fiction and here at A Story in 100 Words, among others. He can be reached at debarunsarkar.wordpress.com

Descending On A Gas Giant

'Remember Jupiter?" he heard his friend ask.

"Yes, that was nothing compared to this. At least we knew what we were mining for there."

"Tell the base to abort in 2 years, in case we don't find anything."

Tox spoke into the wireless to his superintendent. He remembered that moment clearly, years later.

"We are not here for mining, Tox. We are here to terraform and colonize."

Tox remembered the look in all his colleagues' eyes. Even today, they remember that haunting look. As they looked down inside the gas giant planet, they knew something had certainly gone wrong, somewhere.

From Guest Contributor Debarun Sarkar

Debarun sleeps, eats, reads, smokes, drinks, labors, and occasionally writes stories and submits them. Recent works have appeared or are forthcoming in Visitant, Off the Coast, The Opiate, Aainanagar, Rat’s Ass Review, Cerebration, and here at A Story in 100 Words, among others. He can be reached at debarunsarkar.wordpress.com

Previously appeared in Friday Flash Fiction.

Her Private Video Archive

I had first come across her archive of personal video footage, when she left the house to me for a few months, on her trip to Japan.

She had a considerable collection of 8mm tapes, DVDs, and CDs filled with amateur video footage.

I remember clearly that, I spent a whole month locked in the house, watching her film the mundane and the eventful. When she did not return from the trip to Japan, I auctioned it to an art gallery for a considerable sum of money.

Her 'Sans Soleil' though was never seen, like her footage of the riots.

From Guest Contributor Debarun Sarkar

Debarun sleeps, eats, reads, smokes, drinks, labors and occasionally writes stories and submits them. Recent works have appeared or are forthcoming in Off the Coast, The Opiate, Aainanagar, Rat's Ass Review, Cerebration, and here at A Story in 100 Words. He can be reached at debarunsarkar.wordpress.com

Road To The Suburbs

Her house was situated next to a busy route. A road which connected the city to the southern parts of the suburbs.

The whole year, living in that house without wired broadband, with the incessant dust of the road, and the smell of pollution as the trucks roared by; she could barely sleep.

In her dreams she murdered and killed drivers of four-wheeled vehicles, and imagined a day when she could make their lives miserable.

The next year the media went gaga over the unaccounted increase in car crashes on that road. She was not on the list of suspects.

From Guest Contributor Debarun Sarkar

Debarun sleeps, eats, reads, smokes, drinks, labors and occasionally writes stories and submits them. Recent works have appeared or are forthcoming in Off the Coast, The Opiate, Aainanagar, Rat's Ass Review, Cerebration and here at A Story in 100 Words. He can be reached at debarunsarkar.wordpress.com

Haircut

That summer when everything in his life seemed to be going just right, he finally contemplated cutting his hair. It had been over a decade now, and the summer heat showed no sign of dying down.

Compared to other years, he had enough companionship around him to sustain what he thought would be the antithesis of a lonely life. One girl and a woman were deeply in love with him. He thought it was the best time for a fresh start.

As the heat soared he finally cut his hair off, and both the women suddenly disappeared from his life.

From Guest Contributor Debarun Sarkar

Debarun sleeps, eats, reads, smokes, drinks, labors and occasionally writes stories and submits them. He can be reached at debarunsarkar.wordpress.com