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.

100 Words 100 Words

DDS Confession

Here is a secret--it’s not about the pain. Rather, it’s about prolonging the discomfort.

I like to let the saliva build. Oh, you need suction? Sorry, it hadn’t occurred to me.

Pinching gums with the film is also a winner (hope you don’t have gingivitis!), as is leaving impression compound in too long (can you feel it hardening?).

But the all-time best: we exchange pleasantries, and once my hands are in your mouth I start the questions. The mask covers my smile. But look closely, ever so closely…

…and you might just catch when my eyes roll back.Mmmmmm.

From Guest Contributor Jeff H.

Jeff is a high school English teacher. He blogs at https://batchandnarrative.com/ with his wife, a dietitian, about writing, food, and everything else.

Read More
100 Words 100 Words

Blues For Beginners

My mother went in the hospital for heart surgery and never came out. What would make someone leave all this? It’s a question I often ask myself when I get up in the morning or when I lay down at night. Take cleaning your sheets seriously; there’s sweat and drool and worse on them. (By the way, meat tenderizer and saliva remove bloodstains.) The old bluesmen had voices caked with blood and as scuffed and battered as their guitar cases. No one will believe you live the blues if you wear a suit – unless, like me, you’ve slept in it.From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie is on the pavement, thinking about the government.

Read More
100 Words 100 Words

Carma

Road curling up the mountain. In the rearview a city smears towards a gunmetal ocean. Escaping its saliva slip is rebirth.

Ahead a dust truck grinds up the incline. Slapping flapping ropes fail to keep a torn tarp from exposing garbage bag cleavages, coyly winking. She lay on a tiled floor back there. The tidal slappings audible, not to her.

A stretch opens up. Open road. Serpent ropes reach out, a single newspaper sheet escapes, rises up; twisting, turning, laying itself flat, across his windshield. Centre fold, it’s her, smiling sweetly at him. The heavy saloon hurls itself into space.

From Guest Contributor, Matthew Evans

Read More

Share Your Story

Want to see your story on our website? We’d love to share your work. Click the link below and follow the submission guidelines. Just make sure your story is exactly 100 words.