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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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.
Wear Me Down
The shavings scattered as he coughed, revealing how little actual progress had been made in the last thirty minutes. The brace still protruded from the floor enough to be noticed.
His wife's admonishments occupied him as he filed. It was always her way, whenever she made a mistake, to look for any way to shift the blame elsewhere. Better still if she could pin him as the culprit. So when she'd tripped on the uneven joining between the foyer and kitchen, she yelled at him. Who cares the house had come that way.
He'd given up fighting back decades ago.
Unsolved
Jon Gilbert took his tools from the back of the company van, walked to Jocelyn Pierce’s front door, and started to ring the bell when he noticed that the door was ajar. He was perplexed, having been warned by his boss that Mrs. Pierce, who was robbed a few months before, was obsessed with home security. Not wanting to enter the Pierce house uninvited, Jon shouted “Arno Landscaping.” When there was no response, he stepped into Mrs. Pierce’s foyer. There he found her lifeless body, supine, unmoving eyes staring, not seeing, a faceless doll nailed to the ceiling above her.
From Guest Contributor Dave Harper
Dave, a recovering software developer, now finds himself addicted to writing fiction.
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