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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Something To Eat
“The city is breaking up the encampment, clearing us out,” Olivia said. “I’m leaving.”
“Where are you going?” asked Simone.
“Jail.”
“Jail? Why?”
“In jail I’ll eat every day, have a place to sleep, shower and go to the toilet.”
Simone shivered and pulled the blanket tight around her shoulders. “Jail is awful.”
“Being old and homeless is worse.”
“How will you get sent to jail?”
Olivia opened her coat, exposing the pistol tucked in her waistband. “I’m robbing the first bank I see.”
Simone watched Olivia walk away and tried to ignore the hunger growling deep in her belly.
From Guest Contributor Robert P. Bishop
Robert, a US Army veteran and former Biology teacher, lives in Tucson, Arizona. His short fiction has appeared in numerous online and print journals.
Big Money
Howard entered the school’s front office Monday morning following his Saturday wedding. The head secretary smiled at him and cooed coquettishly, “Ooh, Mr. Morgan, how’s married life?” The other secretaries smirked, eager to hear his reply.
The question amused Howard. He didn’t know what to say so he pumped his fist in the air three times and said, “It’s fantastic. I’ve doubled my income. Life is good!”
“Oh! Oh!” the head secretary shrieked, hands flying to her throat. “You’re just the most horrible man.”
Grinning madly, Howard walked out of the office thinking, What a great start to the day.
From Guest Contributor Robert P. Bishop
Juiced
Reuben downs a shot of tequila and says to me, “Keep up. We don’t like to drink alone.” I down two, three, four shots and fail to catch up.
Reuben turns to the brunette sitting on the next bar stool. “People claim your fingernails and hair keep growing after you die. You believe that? I don’t.”
“You’re drunk,” she snaps.
Reuben grins at me and says, “When men get embalmed, the juice pumped into them gives them a world-class boner. That’s what I want, a boner that lasts forever.” He downs another tequila, trying to calm his demons and himself.
From Guest Contributor Robert P. Bishop
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