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.
Biopsy Results In Ten Days
I want these days to be about more than just waiting. How can they be? Waiting surrounds me, engulfs me, floods me...swirling, fast, faster than I can dog-paddle away... Things will never be the same again, even if, even if... Things will never be the same again, even if the white coats say all is well, even if what I’m awaiting turns out to be snip-snip-and-it’s-gone. I’ve caught a whiff that so permeated my nostrils my neural pathways my brain my heart, its remnants echo into the rest of whatever part of not-forever that I do get to see.
From Guest Contributor Cynthia Bernard
Huff It Your Way
“They’re moving Poe from the County jail to the Big House in the morning,” Dink Delmonico, head of the notorious Delmonico Crime Syndicate said. “Grub, you and Chub are gonna’ bust him out tonight.”
“How, Boss,” Grub asked. “There’s only two of us and at least a dozen guards.”
“With these,” Dink said, putting two pesticide spray canisters on the table. “They’re filled with quick-acting knockout gas. One whiff and the guards will hit the floor like bags of horse manure. Just don’t spray Poe.”
“Right, Boss,” Chub said.
“Remember,” Dink said. “Go directly to jail, and don’t gas Poe.”
From Guest Contributor Lee Hammerschmidt
Lee is a Visual Artist/Writer/Troubadour. He is the author of the short story collections, A Hole Of My Own, It’s Noir O’clock Somewhere, For Richer or Noirer, and Flash Wounds. Check out his hit parade on YouTube!
A Scorned Woman
You must realize my darling, that men have more immediate needs than a woman? Allowances should be made for us. You women don’t have to contend with an unruly member when it gets a whiff of a beautiful woman, especially if she smiles back.
You truly don’t have to do this. Please let me out. If you send me back, I’ll not ever be able to return. Please, please, Ruthie, I swear to you I won’t ever stray again. It’s the only time-machine in existence, and I’m much too fat to run from the dinosaurs at my time of life.
From Guest Contributor Len Mooring
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.