Sneeze First, Regret Later

I flew to New York for a ten-day vacation, feeling as healthy as a horse. On the plane, I sat next to a man who kept coughing. At one point, he sneezed on my arm. Within two days, I was sick with fever, nasal congestion, headaches, body aches, and vomiting. The rest of my vacation was a blur of naps and short outings under heavy medication. When I boarded the plane home ten days later, guess who was sitting in the same row, smiling at me? Swallowing my rage to avoid being kicked off the plane became my biggest accomplishment.

From Guest Contributor Zoé Mahfouz

Symbiotes

When she saved me from the Caligulan Brain Fever outbreak, I stopped seeing my NUR-5E unit as just a fussy nuisance. Fascinated, I threw myself into learning coding and robotics, and now she’ll never be touched by anyone else.

We look after each other, you see: she keeps me alive, and with my skills I upgrade her, and deal with any viruses or mechanical issues. I’ve outlived all the ‘friends’ who called me mad, and she is decades past her notional service life. We’ll never stop.

“I love you,” I say. “I will always care for you,” she replies. “Forever.”

From Guest Contributor Alastair Millar

Alastair is an archaeologist by training and a translator by trade. His published flash fiction (and social links) can be found here.

Temperature Rising

Rudder lay on the trainer’s table writhing in agony. His throwing arm was swollen to bulbous proportions. A nasty, blistering rash spread from his wrist to his shoulder. His body convulsed with chills, a fever of 105°.

“Have you been self-treating again?” the team doctor asked.

“Just some analgesic balm. The big game’s on Sunday and my arm’s killing me. I need to be ready.”

“How much balm?”

“Four tubes.”

“What! The body can’t absorb that much!”

“Will I be okay by kickoff?”

“There’s no way you’re playing!” the doctor said. “You’ve got a severe case of Ben Gay Fever!”

From Guest Contributor Lee Hammerschmidt

Lee is a Visual Artist/Writer/Troubadour who lives in Oregon. He is the author of the short story collections, A Hole Of My Own and It’s Noir O’clock Somewhere. Check out his hit parade on YouTube!

River Of Memories

Fishel sent his wife and two boys away even though Adella insisted they stay until his fever broke. He wouldn’t hear of it. The “Wolves” could arrive at any moment, and he didn’t want to risk his family.

Fishel’s temperature raged, and he became delirious, his wife a constant vision. Too weak to travel, he went to bed, fell into a deep slumber, and dreamt of his family.

Stomping and yelling awakened him from his pleasant dream.

Four Nazi’s burst through the door, guns pointed at Fishel’s face.

“Get up Jew.”

He obeyed and left a river of memories behind.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

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

Winner

I enjoy winning. I am competitive by nature.

The trouble starts when winning becomes the focus.

To be honest, for me the trouble starts when winning becomes everything. Winning for the sake of winning, I describe as the ultimate step.

Especially when I am in a room full of other people who are winners, or think they are winners.

Damage happens. I know the masochistic irony of what it is like to win, and lose, simultaneously. In private, as I tally the losses, my self-loathing grows.

Yes, in my case it is a sickness. My doctor has diagnosed ‘Auction Fever.’

From Guest Contributor Barry O'Farrell

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

Communal Sin

The fever spread through the village so quickly, everyone was sick before the first child died. The wise one said they'd been forsaken by the gods. No one listened. They were too busy dying.

In an earlier age, the epidemic, though tragic, would have passed quietly. The village would have been swallowed by the forest and forgotten. But these days, the village sat next to a gold mine, and many of the workers had come to the village for sex, then carried the fever back to the city. Soon the entire world was infected. Sin can no longer be contained.