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.

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Sofa Of Cycles

The sagging couch cushions are a trophy–evidence attesting to her self-discipline to stay situated.

She’s a chameleon in her contradictory custom office. An extension cord slithers around wooden legs, dressed with a black and blocky laptop vitalizer. The coffee table has been repurposed into a feet-book-pen desk, crowded with sacred guides to creation and the honing of creative crafts. No clocks tick, as time gives no counsel. Silence rears its head to the ears of the beholder, mouth perpetually packed by scribbles and click-clacks.

She forges life and death. A prolific puppet master.

Stay at home God of worlds.

From Guest Contributor Madeline van Batum

Madeline lives in Colorado with her cat and hopes that one day she can go back to her home country of the Netherlands to finally meet the Flying Dutchman.

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The Gladiator

He was a Gladiator, slaying every question with his answers. Judges admired him as the Atlas lifting our team. At first, I pitied for our status, consequently he hoarded us.

I couldn’t even try to lift my head because of my shame. He slogged us into the finals. In the finals, we had partaken and led our way to the trophy till the judge asked our last question. The sound of the question holed my heart, other team was celebrating their win, already.

A voice raised from our side answering the question. That spotless answer navigated us to the trophy.

From Guest Contributor Vivek Vr

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Jesus Christ Superstar DJ

The most impressive thing Jesus has done recently other than walking on water and dying for everyone’s sins is buying that used turntable at a yard sale. From the moment his fingers graced the platter, he couldn’t stop himself from shredding sweet jams, morning, noon, night.

Wrists limp in constant trance, eyes filled with stars, he gave birth to melodic mixes that wafted through windows and pierced hearts.

The evening he stood on that stage holding the Cincinnati DJ Superstar rhinestone-encrusted first place trophy, a tear streamed down his cheek. This one’s for me, Dad. This one’s just for me.

From Guest Contributor Ashley Jae Carranza

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