Hubert And Sylvia

When Hubert met Sylvia in first grade, he didn't like her. She called him names like Fatso and Freako and Huber-Boober. Hubert in turn called her Silly Sylvia or Chubby or just Stupid. But he couldn't get away from her, since everyone was in alphabetical order, and Hubert Hindeldorf, belonged right behind Sylvia Hickson.

Sometimes Sylvia would put her head back so that her long hair was resting on his textbook. Sometimes she would drop her pencil and then poke him in the leg while she retrieved it.

By eighth grade they knew each other quite well. Eventually, they married.

From Guest Contributor Anita G. Gorman

Graveyard Shift

There was an emptiness to everything. Even the space between the minutes lacked connective tissue, so that time no longer flowed with any regularity. Josey was left with nothing but her thoughts to fill the void that descended upon the convenience store after midnight.

She'd divide each 15-minute chunk into 91 cents. That's how much she made, after taxes and withholdings. It hardly seemed worth it, and she'd stare out at the empty highway and live an entire lifetime during every span, dreaming of a life where she'd never married, had never given birth.

Until even her imagination was empty.

Two Birds

Tom and Ruth had been married forty years. The heart monitor was beeping with every breath Ruth took.

“I’m going to miss you,” Tom said. His weathered hands were one with Ruth’s. Two streams of tears ran from his eyes.

“I’ve lead a good life. I’ll be okay,” Ruth said.

“I don’t know how I’ll...” Tom asked.

“We’ll be together soon enough, love. The children need you. You have to be strong for them.”

She closed her eyes quietly. A bird took off and flew high into the clouds towards the sun. Its counterpart sat pensively, wondering where to go.From Guest Contributor Steve Colori

Steve was born in 1986 and during undergrad he developed schizoaffective disorder. Over the years he has worked hard to overcome the disorder and help others while doing so. Steve has published thirteen essays with Oxford Medical Journals, he has written freelance for Mclean Hospital since 2011, he writes a column with The Good Men’s Project titled “Steve Colori Talks Mental Health,” and he has a memoir available on Amazon, "Experiencing and Overcoming Schizoaffective Disorder." A quote he has come to live by is “To Improve is to Change; To be Perfect is to Change Often.” (Winston Churchill)

Supermarket Sleep

Wednesdays, post-second shift, bone-marrow tired, Kyra grocery-shopped. To stay alert, she categorized customers, itemized their purchases.

First: class, marital status, number of kids, happiness level. Pony-tailed woman opposite Kyra? Pinching pants tight in the crotch? Must be married ten years; barely making do managing odd-lots store; two sucrose-loving preteens; miserable as a mutt, minus flea collar, August.

Cart contents: Pony tail and family down waffles, wings, PB & J, rolls, store-brand sherbet, Bud, Coke.

Kyra’d be sad, eating that.

Pulled leggings, smoothed hair. Double-take: her mirrored reflection! She’d best snap out of this, load check-out counter. Be on her way.

From Guest Contributor Iris N. Schwartz

Iris is a fiction and nonfiction writer, as well as a Pushcart-Prize-nominated poet. Her work has appeared, or is forthcoming, in such journals as Bindweed Magazine, Connotation Press, The Flash Fiction Press, Jellyfish Review, Quail Bell Magazine, and Random Sample Review.

Disturbed

There was an old man who never slept at night. I saw him often from my room, I recognized him but didn't know him.

I used to see a flickering light in his room, it disturbed me and didn't let me sleep. I wanted to shout 'could you turn off the light' but never did.

My sister got married and I shifted to her room. I never saw him again; now all I get to see is a closed window with broken glass. I wonder where he's gone? Previously, the open window disturbed me and now it's the closed one.From Guest Contributor Preeti Singh

Preeti is a french language interpreter and a media professional who is engaged in writing short films and playing characters for tv series.

Ashley Who?

My buddy George is sitting at the bar by himself, twiddling his wedding band. Often tempted to “kick over the traces,” he never succumbed to temptation.

“How long have you been married, George?”

“Long time. Dunno.”

“When crooks hacked the infamous adultery website, was your name on the list?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yep.”

“Well you must be the only male over 35 years of age in this town whose name isn’t on the list. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“I know.”

“I can tell you what the problem is George. You’ve been married too long.”

“Yeah. Too long.”

From Guest Contributor Barry O'Farrell

Barry is an actor who sometimes writes, living in Brisbane, Australia. Barry's stories can also be found at 101 Words, Cyclamens & Swords, 50 Word Stories and of course here at A Story In 100 Words.

Decisions

I was 22. He wasn’t ready, and I wasn’t sure if he was the one. At the time, it seemed like an easy decision. We weren’t married, and I had just started a new job. I was young. I could get pregnant again. Right! Besides, I wanted to be married first, then after a few years have a baby or two. That made more sense. Children should have a stable home. Right? I’m an attractive, intelligent woman, I’ll meet someone who wants a family. But leaving the clinic that day, it never became apparent, that I would never conceive again.

From Guest Contributor Dana Sterner

Dana is a Registered Nurse and Professional Writer. She has written for regional and national magazines, and continues to write in many different genres.

And That's That

“How are you really, dear?”

“I’m fine.”

“Sweetheart, you can tell me.”

“I am telling you. I’m just fine.”

“Are you getting out?”

“I’m out right now.”

“With someone.”

“I’m here with you.”

“A man! Are you seeing anyone?”

“I see a lot of men, mother. I’m not dating anyone, if that’s what you want to know”.

“What about that nice young man…”

“He’s married.”

“Oh.”

“You know, mom, I met this wonderful sixty-year-old man.”

“Oh, darling, sixty?”.

“He’s perfect. He’s dying to get laid.”

“JENNIFER!”

“I gave him your number. Have you had the chicken salad here?”

From Guest Contributor Jean Blasiar

Infinity Pool

She and I are married but not to each other, if you get my drift.

Seizing a window of opportunity, we are spending four nights in a five-star hotel on the coast complete with infinity pool. I swim, she wades.

She says, during my swim, a young girl approached her complaining a couple of boys mischievously removed the safety floaters to use for a game in the pool. The lass asked, “Can you tell your husband to make those boys put the floaters back?”

“Why don’t you?” I ask cheekily. “Grab your phone, make the call.”

We both laugh.

From Guest Contributor Barry O’Farrell

Barry's stories can also be found on Cyclamens & Swords, 50-Words Stories and of course, here at A Story In 100 Words.

Genie: The Musical

So Naomi found this old lamp in the attic. When she was cleaning it off, a genie appeared and granted her one wish. Before anyone could stop her, she wishes for her life to become just like in a musical.

That's all well and good for her. She's married to a handsome tenor (though I reckon he's probably gay) and every dramatic moment in her life gets played out in song form.

I, on the other hand, never get to say (or sing) anything. I'm just the guy in the back trying to keep time during all the dance numbers.