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.
Stop doomscrolling and start fiction browsing.
Biker
She first hit the big time in the musical Binary System. It was a righteous indignation among the bikers. “You’re right about the party- it’s awful,” Fly Wind said single-handedly. We were all looking at her in her akimbo position. Her shirt was on back to front.
“If anything goes wrong, the technicians are here to put it right,” Madam Sixth Sense, the head, spoke slowly and clearly. “Who do you back to win the Superbowl?”
We slowly backed away from the snake.
She raised me as she was wrong. We played billiards a long time before I came in.
From Guest Contributor Jacob Kobina Ayiah Mensah
Jacob is the author of more than 19 poetry book publications, including Witness and a poetry collection in Spanish, agua y color, is forthcoming from Valparaiso Poetry Press. His individual pieces have appeared in numerous journals and anthologies, including JMWW, Constellations, Trampoline, 1-70 Review, Beautiful Cadaver Project Pittsburgh, The Meadow, Beyond Words Literary Magazine, Rigorous, etc. He lives in the southern part of Ghana, in Spain, and the Turtle Mountains, North Dakota.
Missed Connections
The waiter comes around to check on me again. I avert my eyes in embarrassment and try to discreetly check the time on my phone. Going on two hours now. I should really give up.
“Sitting inside! Text me when you get here x”
Sent.
Delivered.
Read.
Ignored.
I sigh and crumple. I call the waiter over. I order a drink. “Of course, madam,” he says as he scurries away. Was that a look of pity in his eyes? I decide I’d rather be drunk than dwell on that any longer.
Man. Remind me to never use this app again.
From Guest Contributor Rachel Martz
A New Home
NATURE SUBMISSION:
“Hi, we’re the new foster parents. Are the little ones ready?”
The woman who opened the door has tears in her eyes.
“You’re early.”
“We were anxious to see them.”
“Promise me you’ll take care of them.”
“Um… certainly, madam.”
“I’ll get my husband.”
A man comes to the door, carrying a basket and then handing it over.
“Is everything all right with the missus? She seems a bit upset. She IS aware we will end up eating them, right?”
“Sssst. No need to remind her of that.”
“Maybe you should consider to stop giving away free tomato plants, then.”
From Guest Contributor Hervé Suys
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