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.
Doctor Burke
Doctor Burke’s hands are steadfast as he performs the intricate surgery. The patient has lost blood and the bullet is lodged in his abdomen.
Nurse Benson hands him the scalpel and he gently removes the bullet, but the patient begins to code. Burke uses the defibrillator and after several attempts the man flatlines. The time of death is 3:52pm.
Nurse Benson approaches. “You did everything you could.”
On the way home, all he thinks about is the loss.
When he walks in the door, his wife is waiting with red wine and dinner.
She asks how his first surgery went.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Mercury’s Lunchbox
The courier waits outside the O.R. A moment after a surgeon calls the time of death, a nurse emerges, hands her a container. He says, “Go!”
She hits a flat-out run. Courier and container speed in her van to the other hospital. Her supervisor radios warning: the patient’s chest is open. Four or five minutes are the bought time, but here’s a red light. Ninety seconds leeway when she’s met by fresh legs at the E.R.’s drop-off lane.
Before she hears if the patient survived, she’s picked up a container with a kidney in it.
Always urgent, never finished. Hurrying.From Guest Contributor Todd Mercer
Todd writes Fiction and Poetry in Grand Rapids, Michigan. His collection Ingenue was published in 2020 by Celery City Press. Recent work appears in Blink Ink, Literary Yard and Pangolin Review.
Death
I opened my eyes and spoke with the angel at the foot of my bed.
He didn’t have wings or look like Brad Pitt. His name was Derek; originally from Basildon.
“What happened to me, Derek?”
“You’re dead,” he replied.
“How?” I asked, my voice catching in my throat.
“Car crash.”
“When?”
“An hour ago. They tried reviving you. Your time of death was six-thirty.”
“So, I was on my way home from work then?”
“I suppose so,” Derek replied, not seeming to care one way or the other.
“Did they say what caused it?”
“You were texting someone, apparently.”
From Guest Contributor Bernie Hanvey
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.