Wasted Youth

"Youth is wasted on the young."

"Agreed. All young people want to do is have fun, go on adventures, play sports, work out, join social clubs, have sex, see the world, fall in love, attack the status quo, learn new skills, create art, make friends, get high, topple the oligarchy, save the world from self-destruction, dance the night away, see how fast they can go, push boundaries, eat at all the cool places, risk life and limb, and trip the light fantastic.

"That sounds nice, but the reality is mostly posting to social media and binge watching Friends."

"Point taken."

Check Out A Story In 100 Words On Instagram And Threads

Hey everyone,

For many years, Twitter was my social media platform of choice when it came to A Story In 100 Words. Now that Twitter is officially dead, I've decided it's time to move on to another option for spreading the word about all the great flash fiction hosted on the site. With that in mind, I've started an Instagram account: https://www.instagram.com/astoryin100words/

I'll be posting the stories on IG in addition to here, so it will be easy for you to share your stories and show them off. If you're on Instagram, please go follow to support the site!

I've also started a Threads account, which I can't link to. But if you're on Threads, it's the same username as the IG account.

Thanks for all stories and keep reading and writing!

Plus, don't forget that you can also support the site by purchasing one of my books on Amazon. I super appreciate every one who's bought one.

Thoughts And Prayers

Small furry animals have crawled out of their holes for a look. Such sights! Smashed-in skulls and severed feet and angels covered in blood. Like a nasty drunk, God has been exceptionally belligerent of late. A cadaverous woman in blue scrubs who says her name is April asks, “On a scale of 1-10, with 1 being the lowest, how severe is your pain?” Strangers on social media offer thoughts and prayers. Even then, the leaves on trees instantly wither as a burning airship passes overhead. My wife refuses a ride. We cling together just like the words in a poem.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie is the author of Failed Haiku, a poetry collection that is the co-winner of the 2021 Grey Book Press Chapbook Contest. It is scheduled for publication in summer 2022.

Add One More Day

Positive and quarantined at home, my days edge along like a snail. Immersed in social media and Netflix, suddenly, I gasp for oxygen. Panting for a breath, I’m rushed to the hospital. Tethered to oxygen, I yearn to hug and cradle my child. I have to bake her birthday cake. I want to see her victorious smile when I lose at UNO. I must leave a lingering kiss on my husband’s lips. Flustered by my thoughts, I inhale into darkness.

Cool air blows as the blanket is snatched off me. “Mom, the Zoom password is incorrect.” I breathe in relief.

From Guest Contributor Hetal Shah

Hetal graduated with her Bachelor of Commerce from SIES. She lives in Mumbai with her husband, son, and daughter. She rekindled her hobby of writing over the past year. She is the winner of Mumbai Poetry League 2020, and her poem was published in an anthology by Poets of Mumbai called Guldastaa A Bouquet of Poems. She also writes flash fiction, and has been published twice on 101words.org. She loves to read, and especially enjoys reading and writing stories of romance and everyday life. Besides writing, she enjoys cooking new cuisines, traveling, and singing.

Election

It’s election night and everyone is on edge, waiting to hear if the candidate they voted for wins. I don’t discuss politics with friends or family since it only leads to arguments. In some cases, I blocked friends on my social media page because they’ve become too involved discussing politics and arguing.

Whoever wins I will be grateful whether it’s for the candidate I voted for or not. They are strong leaders and I envision a great country with a thriving economy.

The winner has been declared. It isn’t who I voted for, but regardless, I’m happy.

Bless this country.

From Guest Contributor Lisa Scuderi-Burkimsher

Grandma

The woman who has been known only as Grandma for most of her life holds the baby in her lap tight and points to different pictures in the photo album. “That’s my father in that picture right there,” she says, pointing to a black and white image that seems almost ghostly.

Grandma watches the baby’s eyes pour over the pictures, and she wonders what will happen to this generation that won’t be preserved in faded photographs. Will they live forever on social media timelines, or will their digital afterlife be as fleeting as the breaths one takes in a lifetime?

From Guest Contributor Dan Slaten

What Should Have Been

She was my first kiss at seven, she had a crush on me. She moved away a year later and was forgotten until high school when she found me on social media. I was busy, having parties and ignored her texts. In university, she found me again, through a friend, but I had no time, as I needed to study. Years later, by fortune, we bumped on the street. We talked for a few minutes, but that was all. Once more we met, this time at a funeral. Here I realized my folly, as I said goodbye to my soulmate.

From Guest Contributor Jordan Altman