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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Top Ten Tips For Spies In The Dentist’s Office Waiting Room

1. Power down the flip phone (V2.0) hidden in your black loafers.

2. Set video camera sunglasses to record in 4K resolution.

3. Be suspicious of anyone sporting sunglasses in waiting room.

4. Scan wall posters for cryptic ciphers such as ‘Password=PW123.’

5. Take notes, e.g., ‘Subject has engaged eye contact.’

6. Respond with ‘thank you’ if anyone says ‘You’re acting all weird, man.’

7. Refuse offers of Xylitol-laced lollipops, esp. sour cherry flavoured.

8. Ask yourself, ‘Does my dentist have a Russian accent?’

9. Keep eyes open, mouth shut, antenna tuned.

10. Avoid divulging important state secrets while sedated.

From Guest Contributor Elizabeth Murphy

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Spy Culture

Just before dawn, the train barreled across the border. My carryall bag on the overhead rack contained an entire set of ant-dreams preserved in amber. Spies lurked everywhere, but, after the train pulled in, I evaded them by frequently changing my facial expressions. Later that day, I traveled by sampan and pedicab to meet my contact, an experienced agent posing as an English nanny. We met in a neighborhood playground beside a tree whose round fruit the children pretended were bombs. At one point I forgot the word “cremated” and had to ask her, “What’s it called – incinerating the body?”

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie is the author of The Titanic Sails at Dawn (Alien Buddha Press, 2019).

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A Wandering Soap Opera

I feel like a gull getting sucked into a jet engine. Furniture salesmen, spies, serial killers, etc., take turns following me through town. I recognize them by their nondescript appearance. Private lives are now being lived in public. We’re a wandering soap opera. That’s the problem with putting Velveeta on enchiladas. And nobody has to ask what the Kremlin thinks about all of this. Traces are visible from the air. I just want some semblance of normality back in my life, some sort of quiet, and my heart to stop furiously pedaling as if there were actually somewhere to go.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie co-edits the journals UnLost and Unbroken with Dale Wisely.

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