A Story In
100 Words
Literature in Tiny Bursts.
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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Night Skies
Raindrops fell softly with a hiss. Each drop shatters like diamonds when it collides with the earth, leaving a dazzling path that leads back into the darkness. Through the obscurity of night, the city lights are shining.
The air was thick with anticipation for what was to come next, leaving a sense of mystery in its wake.
As I stood there, eyes open to marvel at the majesty of the night sky and the glories of the heavens that filled my view, it felt as if time had slowed down, giving me a moment to breathe and think of home.
From Guest Contributor J. Iner Souster
Undetected
“We’re detectives,” said the teenager in Greta’s doorway. “Like Nancy Drew. But guys.”
“And brothers!” the other boy added.
Greta studied them. “So...more like...the Hardy Boys?”
“Who?” the Hardly-there Boys asked together.
Greta smirked. “Never mind.”
“We’re tracking a thief,” explained the first boy. “He’s targeting Culpepper Lane!”
Greta gasped.
“Vases, television, artwork.” The second boy ticked off his fingers. “Even Mrs. Giovanni’s tiara! We’re questioning everyone. May we come inside?”
“Certainly,” Greta said. “I was just setting up my new TV.” She ushered them into her immaculate foyer, a sea of diamonds sparkling unnoticed atop her head.
From Guest Contributor John Adams
John (he/him/his) lives near Kansas City, where he produces comedy shows and writes about teenage detectives, robo-butlers, and cursed cowboys. Twitter: @JohnAmusesNoOne.
I Bring Her Diamonds. My Hands Are Full Of Them
I bring her diamonds. My hands are full of them.
“Please,” she sobs heavily, “stop coming back.”
I had no money for diamonds, once.
When my car crashed, the exploding windshield sent diamonds rushing deep into me – my eyes, throat, hands – all shining in the moonlight. The pain was overwhelming. And then it stopped. And all I could think was I finally had something to give her.
Every full moon I come to her porch at midnight, to show her how they shine in my open hands. But every time she only holds her head and softly cries.
From Guest Contributor Eric Robert Nolan
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