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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Isolated
House manager Morgan came into my room. He sniffed the air and looked disapproving.
“Mrs Towne,” he began, “The Cobra Committee has issued an edict that there are to be no more visitors.”
I didn't mind. Old age had already picked off my friends and family like a sniper.
“And you cannot go out,” he added. “You'll just have to wait here until you die.”
He smiled to show it was a joke. Hilarious. I was truly isolated now. The other residents were deaf or dumb or their brain was out to lunch, or all three.
Then the telephone rang.
From Guest Contributor Derek McMillan
Derek is the writer of "Murder from Beyond the Grave" available on eBay.
The Dark Arts
If I look different, taller or fitter, it may be because a kind of prisoner swap has taken place. Somehow I’ve wriggled out from under the extreme judgments of a cold, tyrannical god. I’m still me but not the same. My failures suddenly seem less painful, viewable in retrospect as a series of valiant gestures against the authority of received narratives. Indigenous names for places have been restored, our pale winter bodies renourished. And so we lie down together, she and I, consumers of dreams, while angels dabble in the dark arts and the sniper kneels at the corner window.
From Guest Contributor Howie Good
Howie is author of the poetry book, The Dark, available from Sacred Parasite, which will also publish his book, Akimbo, in 2025.
Sniper
As if part of the land Masha merges into the rubble. A file of battle-weary Wehrmacht fighters passes.
The last is in her sights.
She had hunted deer in Siberia. They never detected her, so camouflage in Stalingrad’s snow-clad ruins is easy.
Deer, she respects, sharers of the Motherland, killing only for meat.
These Nazi scum are vermin. She would exterminate them all if she could.
She aims for the chest to mortally wound. He falls.
Two comrades rush back to help.
Her next two bullets pass through their foreheads.
She scurries off undetected, three more notches to her name.
From Guest Contributor Ian Fletcher
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