Platero And I: The Bridge

Do you remember last year, Platero? We were heading off to Señora Jiménez to bring her some deadwood.

We were already halfway across the narrow stone bridge over the Rio Molino when Juan, the warden of the hacienda, came running towards us. He shouted he was in a hurry – he suspected his daughter was meeting her lover Ramon at that same moment. He must have frightened you, Platero, because there was no way to get you moving. You stood there for over two hours.

Juan sends his greetings: “Tell your donkey that thanks to his stubbornness I’m a grandfather now.”

From Guest Contributor Hervé Suys

Hervé Suys (°1968 – Ronse, Belgium) started writing short stories whilst recovering from a sports injury and he hasn’t stopped since. Generally he writes them hatless and barefooted.

This Boy's Life

Sammy's live-in, Tanya, abhors Sammy's pet tarantula, Quentin. Tanya's friend, Gwen—Sammy's illicit lover—sees murder in Tanya's eyes. Quentin disappears. Sammy suspects Tanya. Time smolders. Back into the picture Quentin dramatically creeps. Tanya proves Gwen prescient, then moves out. Gwen moves in, eventually giving birth to a boy they call Quentin. Time bursts into flames. Hating his parents for naming him after a spider, Quentin kills spiders to spite them, worrying school counselors. Twenty-first century America. Mad boy. 3-D printers. Time, get wise. They call the boy Thomas. He learns violin, no spiders wantonly harmed in this boy's life.From Guest Contributor Darrell Petska

Darrell is a Madison, Wisconsin writer. View some of his fiction and poetry at conservancies.wordpress.com.

Sirens

He’d risen early this morning to plan the house his wife had dreamed of, but the hilltop’s stark beauty had rooted him to the spot.

His tea got cold.

It suddenly seemed a travesty to spoil the land’s personality.

Don’t seek to dominate, Mother Nature whispered, explore me as you would a lover.

He felt his pulse race at the imagery. There were enticing little copses in his eye line.He wondered if Elaine was up for–

“GRAHAM!” Her voice scattered the erotic thoughts.

He sighed and slouched towards the mobile home.

“Coming.”

He reflected on the nature of sirens.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid

Her Nebulae

Space lover, every other morning she flips through iridescent images of interstellar clouds. Those nebulae are hers. She has collected many - Crabs and Orions, even Eagle's pillars.

Today the Eye of Helix is just coming out on her thigh - fine web of filaments, embedded in a red and slate-blue oval. An older mark on upper arm begins transitioning from purple to the shades of yellow and green. She promises herself to find its alien soulmate tomorrow. Now she must go, and she packs her school bag void with hope. The regions of bright nebulosity are safely hidden under shapeless uniform.From Guest Contributor Natalia Kay

Storm Damage

I’m a lucky lady. I have a wonderful lover in my life. A younger man. An enthusiastic younger man.

Lovemaking sessions are spontaneous, passionate and spicy. Lately we have been able to see a lot of each other. It is great.

I was annoyed he didn’t drive here immediately to help me with the post-storm clean up. The house is fine; the yard a carpet of leaves and branches.

Calmly, I put things into proper perspective.

-I have no right to put demands on him.-He can’t be on call.-My husband will fly home tomorrow from his overseas posting.

From Guest Contributor Barry O'Farrell

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