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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Recovery
The healing came slow. A damaged psyche doesn’t show like a bruise. Her little boy needs her; she is everything to him and he is the world to her. But she needs to be whole for him.
More than a month of repair to start the recovery. Participation in daily activities was the first sign. A faint light at the end of the tunnel, but a light nonetheless. Her posture showed confidence. Then her gait picked up a bit. A twinkle returned to her eyes. Her journey would be long and arduous, but she was on her way to recovery.
From Guest Contributor NT Franklin
NT Franklin has been published in Page and Spine, Fiction on the Web, 101 Words, Friday Flash Fiction, CafeLit, Madswirl, Postcard Shorts, 404 Words, Scarlet Leaf Review, Freedom Fiction, Burrst, Entropy, Alsina Publishing, Fifty-word stories, Dime Show Review, among others.
The Three Brigits
Brigit, Irish Goddess of Poetry, sits at the feet of her Mother of Plenty.
She calls to her sisters, Brigit of Medicine and Brigit of Smithcraft. They watch as humans emerge on Earth.
Brigit of inspiration says to them, “Humans are evolving, so I’ve blessed them with verse. What gifts do you bestow?”
Brigit of healing says, “I share my curiosity so they explore their world and themselves.”
Brigit of the forge answers, “I share my love of craft, the shaping of earthly elements.”
Mother says, “I pray they find peace and joy in our plentiful gifts before destroying them.”
From Guest Contributor Soma Datta (@somaxdatta)
The Grave
When the old man stopped and wiped his brow, the echo of his shovel continued for a beat. The grave wasn’t deep enough yet, but it was getting light. Every year for the past ten years, he was at the same beach, digging a grave. The digging took longer each year, but he never missed the day. Every year he buried a part of her. It became easier each year; piece by piece, he was healing. The ocean took the love of his life and each year he buried a piece of her favorite jewelry he knows she would want.
From Guest Contributor NT Franklin
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