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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Forgiveness

She walked along the deserted beach, cold wet sand hard underfoot, leaving her well-formed arch, her heavy heel dug-in tight, her human track. She scanned the choppy grey ocean, a seagull skimming along ready to dive. Looking ahead, an outcropping of massive black boulders stumbled together into a makeshift Henry Moore sculpture. The solid blocks of granite, columnar or reclining, soft-edged or angular, were reminiscent of her mother. The stoic strength, the impermeability, the dense solid weight of judgement. She had framed her adult life accordingly, with a negative imperative: I will not be like my mother.​

From Guest Contributor Holiday Goldfarb

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Morning Run

Keep your footing steady, prepared for the slick, the slide, yourflight, your footlessness, your unexpected sky view. Run towards thehazy white clouds, the early sun's pinkish fire, the black ice--alake, a mottled mirror. You know the quiet sidewalk, the barren appletree, the forgotten field. But this sea yearning, this siren call todive deep, feet first, into the glass, the shatter--is undeniable, animmersion, a full body baptism. You suddenly find yourself splayed andshaken, flat on your back, laughing at your air walk, your feet nowhesitant, dull--the morning light cool, the day transparent,expectant.

From Guest Contributor Holiday Goldfarb

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Staking A Claim

It started with his touch and before that the way he looked at me; clear blue eyes that knew how to take me in, how to see through my quiet, my fear. We explored city streets that summer, always attached, love-linked. A goodnight kiss turned couch tumble—hungry hands searching, lips and teeth crashing, his weight pinning me down. And then that surprise on the back of my neck: sweat, tears so sweet. Surrender, yes, maybe even love; but later, and better, trust and understanding, an intimacy that allowed regrets to be shared, my darkness to escape, a homestead staked.

From Guest Contributor Holiday Goldfarb

Holiday is currently enrolled in the MFA Program in Writing at Lindenwood University, Saint Louis, MO. If all goes as planned, she will graduate in December 2016.

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