Be Easy

Tomas nervously made his way to his seat at the very back of the lecture hall. He'd originally staked out this spot to avoid being called on during class discussion, but if it afforded him the opportunity to surreptitiously glance at his neighbors' test answers, that was just a happy accident.

He prayed this final was easy. He needed an A on the exam to ensure a passing grade. Failure meant his dreams of medical school would be over.

The first question contained the word "Gluconeogenesis."

Tomas stood and walked out of the classroom. The world needs car mechanics too.

Consequence Of Failure

Dale stares at the target. Everything is riding on him. The difference between victory and defeat. The difference between eternal glory and a lifetime of infamy.

Dale takes a deep breath and bounces the ball three times. He focuses his mind on this simple act he's done a million times. He refuses to look at his teammates, or listen to the fans nervously watching from the stands.

If he misses, his family will receive death threats. He'll be retired in shame.

Dale releases the ball. He doesn't need to watch to know it's clanked off the front of the rim.

Learning To Lose

As a child, Pedro was taught that winning was all that mattered. Yet at the same time, his teachers insisted that when he lost, he must do so with dignity. This was a contradiction.

If winning was all important, his response to defeat was at best meaningless. In truth, conciliation towards failure must be evidence of his disregard for the first lesson.

As an adult, Pedro finally understands. After vanquishing his enemies in battle, hand-to-hand combat, or preemptive surrender, he finds it distasteful when opponents act sullenly towards their new master. Dignity is another word for capitulation to your betters.

Helicopter Parenting

HUBRIS CONTEST:

Malcolm was the victim of helicopter parenting. Literally. He didn't drive to school, he flew. His mother and father, both victims of neglect and recrimination growing up, had overachieved as adults so that they could protect their own child from such abuses. This meant sheltering Malcolm from all criticisms, never allowing him to fail or even fall short in anything he did.

When he inherited the family business, he was both horribly unqualified to run a company and incapable of conceiving of the possibility of failure. Thanks however to his tremendous hubris, the company continued to thrive under his direction.

From Guest Contributor Mindy Storr

Regrets

I write my own praises, dictating stories to muckrakers. Advisors insist on it.

I ran for office to serve. Tragedy. Much is given, much is expected.

I spout platitudes with such grace, it scares me.

Advisors expect me to conduct myself with grace. Don’t show feelings.

Constituents expect a shining prince, savior of liberalism.

I drink copiously, the moon as my witness. I can’t contain the weight of demands, desires.

I wake up on stairwells and in closets, hangovers uniquely my own machination.

I feel failure pirouetting, a taunting ballerina. She’s right to taunt.

But I’m not allowed to regret.

From Guest Contributor Yash Seyedbagheri.

Yash is a graduate of Colorado State University's MFA program in fiction. He is the recipient of two Honorable Mentions from Glimmer Train. His story, "Strangers," was nominated for The Best Small Fictions. Mir-Yashar's work is forthcoming or has been published in journals such as (mac)ro (mic), Runcible Spoon, JAB Fiction and Poetry, Unstamatic, and Ariel Chart.

Life, A Very Short Story

You talk to family photos, suffer from migraines, play Chopin with unshowy facility on the parlor piano. Strangers often comment on your eyes – gull’s eyes, someone called them. The sea heaves just outside your door, and from the back window, you can see the cemetery where your father is buried. Weeds have sprouted up overnight among the headstones. You aren’t interested in stories of success, only failure. “Sunshine,” you say, “is an overrated virtue.” The words echo. There’s a feeling that something terrible is about to happen. You watch for a while and then shrug. Maybe because it’s all disappearing.From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie is the author most recently of What It Is and How to Use It from Grey Book Press and Spooky Action at a Distance from Analog Submission Press. He co-edits the journals Unbroken and UnLost.

Memorials

Through the fog and overgrowth that chokes the front yard, an eruption of tulips grows on either side of the doorway, an invitation to visitors that stopped visiting decades ago. They are the only splash of color on the otherwise gray facade of the crumpling structure that used to be a house.

Tulips once required cold weather to survive. Somehow these plants learned to adapt, and are now in flower nearly year round. A stark contrast to the failure of civilization all around them. Were anyone still alive who could understand, there's a metaphor to be found in those plants.

News From Abroad

Dearest Melanie,

It pains me to report that my attempt to traverse the Andes has been an immeasurable failure. My guide, John Trapp, and I were scaling a particularly dubious crag when I felt the compulsion to belt out Tennyson's "Come Into the Garden, Maud." Distracted by my ill-timed warbling, Trapp lost his foothold and fell 2600 feet to his death. As I watched him descend, I made a game for myself in which I attempted to finish the song before John's head exploded on the rubble below. Sadly, I came 72 bars short.

My love to the girls.

Elliot

From Guest Contributor Amiel Rossin

Failure To Thaw

The funeral didn’t make her cry.

She had been given a frosty life, locked out of warmth. Once she found the sun, she never looked back. And yet, here she was.

The chalky dough of a face, ice white and just as cold, with a slash of red lips and the hum of memories in the air bounced off of her like the wrong side of a magnet. She gave the packet of tissues to her sister before brushing past.

Leaning close, she touched the stripe of rouge. Some rubbed off on her finger.

Curious, she thought, the measures taken. From Guest Contributor Emily Fox

Emily has an MA in English and Creative Writing from SNHU. She currently lives in North Carolina. You can find her at emfoxwrites.com, or follow her on Twitter @emfoxwrites.

Introduction

I hate going to the Introduction Agency to get a date. There is a certain sense of shame and failure.

This time it’s for a skiing, long weekend my boss has arranged. I can’t attend another company weekend alone.

“My screen has a record of your preference,” says the receptionist. “You last used our personal services four months ago. Your good credit qualifies you for bronze level membership. Would you like to join?”

Tempted, I nod my head.

“We can introduce you to Amber, model looks, brunette, elegant. Amber will be fully recharged in about ninety minutes. Care to wait?”From Guest Contributor Barry O'Farrell

Barry is an actor living in Brisbane, Australia. Barry's other stories can be found at Cyclamens & Swords, 50 Word Stories, and here at A Story In 100 Words.