Anchor

 

Forest Floor

The shipwreck sank more and more each day. It anchored fears and doubts at the bottom of everyone's hearts. Everyone in town witnessed the shipwreck sinking with hopeful expectation. The future would be better. The future would be much better. But the shipwreck decided to leave the main mast above water like a breathing tube. And the future wasn't better. The future was a wreck, just like the shipwreck. Many stories were told about the ghost. It was there, breathing, making fun of the whole town for having had that stupid idea of sinking a ship to kill a ghost.

100 Word Stories

Deploy

Port Nawak

Deploy your hopes and your dreams. Organize them in squadrons. Make sure they are well armed and motivated. Follow the rules. The rules? The rules to neatly line up your dreams and your hopes, the rules. Dreams and hopes line up neatly? Neatly and obediently. Those are not hopes and dreams. Those are not... Shut up. Deploy your hopes and dreams like an army. Organize them in squadrons of nothingness and the future will be yours. And then there was silence. That stifling silence that hits you when you know, you suddenly know. You close your eyes and you know.

100 Word Stories

Camp

Amar en Meleth

What if I lived right there where the butterflies swayed in the air? 

What if I lived right there? 

The birds chirped, and flew away. 

What if the narrow streets were alive to the brim with color? And not gray with emptiness?

What if the tears didn't rain down the walls alive with the whiteness of summer?

What if the butterflies weren't gone, and the birds?

What if I lived there, right there, and not here in the middle of the forest by a sizzling fire?

I want to go back to that small town where the narrow streets smiled.

100 Word Stories

Removal Offer

Blue Crystal

The deal included shipping the stuff across the ocean and delivering it safely.

But the stuff wasn't delivered.

"What's going on? You don't know where Hong Kong is?"

He got off the phone and... there it was, the ship. Empty.

"Where's the stuff? It's worth millions."

No one knew.

Well, the source did. They were testing everyone's loyalty.

Hong Kong didn't like it.

Updated offer. "Incoming delivery. Free."

A new crew had to be hired because heads were removed from their respective bodies and shipped back.

"Now, send us the stuff. Hong Kong has more brilliant ideas. Yes, we do."

100 Word Stories

Pick a Card... Any Card!

BWCVillage

The postcards came from everywhere in the world.

The director thought of finding pen pals for the residents of the home.

"Pick a card. Any card!"

Everyone was thrilled.

Everyone, except Mr. Morris whose card was the only one left. An unknown town in the middle of nowhere... "I didn't get to pick. Now I'm stuck with this..." He waved the card in the air dismissively.

"Be grateful, Mr. Morris."

Grateful, huh... When the police found the card Mr. Morris hadn't picked shoved in the director's throat, Mr. Morris was long gone... That unknown town would now become quite famous.

100 Word Stories

Gaspar

Photo by Miguel Pires

I left the door open for you to sneak out as you always did, cries of Gaspar, Gaspar chasing your cheekiness.

I left the door open for you to go and explore the terrace and its mysteries that so fascinated you.

I left the door open and tiptoed behind you for a bit, not wanting to let go, and you looked back and my heart broke in a thousand pieces.

Now, each time I go to the terrace I see you, sneaking around behind the flower pots, trying to play a game of hide and seek, your tail swaying right there where I could see it.

And I'd walk slowly towards you and you'd run behind another flower pot, the game of hide, but not completely, and seek and run and giggles from the silly humans who always fell for your charm.

I left the door open to the terrace, and walked outside. And for a split second, I thought I saw your tail, swaying playfully in plain sight.

Go now and be free, my beautiful kitty.

But you'll always come back to your terrace, won't you?

I'll be there too...

                1. October 2007 - 26. August 2020

Traitor

Chang High Trinity Sisters Show

He had copied those documents. He was a traitor. And yet, he was enjoying the show, drooling over the obscene amount of money hidden in his backpack.

The head dancer had tucked away the papers under the mattress with a nod of indifference.

He tried to kiss her, but she blocked him with an assertive arm.

On his way home, the security goon beat him to a pulp. "She is mine."

When he got home, the cops had a search warrant.

Good thing the goon had robbed him of all his money.

Being a traitor often has its lucky moments.

100 Word Stories

Writer III

Milk Wood

A few years after creating my current Second Life avatar, I stumbled upon an event where someone read his own stories. The stories were very short, only 100 words long (drabbles).

When I checked his profile, I realized this writer had made a commitment, to write a story a day until the day he died. I found this both intriguing and remarkable.

Later on, I found out he not only wrote a story a day, but he wrote a bunch of them ahead.

His name is Laurence Simon (R. Dismantled in Second Life). He keeps a website where you can read all his stories. I strongly encourage you to drop by for a visit.

After reading dozens of his drabbles, I thought... Could I do this? And there it was, the answer. Laurence organizes a weekly challenge. He provides a prompt (a word or expression) and we write a drabble, record it and send it to him. With these files, he creates a podcast.

My first story, back in 2012, took me hours to write. It was about 500 words at first. No freaking way would I be able to cut off 400 words... No way.

Well, that was the challenge, right? And I did it! I recorded it and... hesitated for such a long time, the mouse hovering over the Send button. I finally mastered the courage to click that darn button and off it went.

Practice made me faster. I don't take hours to write one single story anymore. It became much easier. The hesitation is often still there though. “Is this good at all...?!” But eventually, I click the Send button and that's it.

I've been taking part in the Weekly Challenge since 2012. Eight years. Hundreds of drabbles written. That's a lot of oxygen!

2020 hasn't been an easy year. Writing is not my priority now, I must admit. However, I've never stopped writing those drabbles.

Confucius said “It does not matter how slowly you go so long as you do not stop.”

Well, I... I do not stop.

Beans

France Portnawak

Beans, the shark, swam across icy waters, happy to be alone.

His buddies preferred the South. They also enjoyed scaring people.

Beans didn't. Too bloody, too messy, too loud. He could chew a leg as an appetizer, true, but the chaos was unbearable.

One day, Beans spotted a diver.

"No, don't," he thought.

He looked away. He looked away some more while swimming towards the diver. Then that scent of the diving suit...

When he swam away in shame, he decided to go farther North and become a hermit. That decision lasted... 3 days. That's when he spotted another diver.

100 Word Stories

Writer II

Milk Wood

Now that we have established I am not a writer, we can safely move on to less dangerous territory.

It is said that what really matters is not reaching you destiny, but the path you tread to get there. This is exactly my philosophy regarding writing. I'm on a learning path, a continuous learning path, that will eventually take me to my destiny. I don't know what my destiny is, if it is a place or a circumstance. If it is a feeling or a certain amount of knowledge. All I know is that I am on that path.

Years ago, to document the route I'm taking, I decided to create a blog. It's an uncensored workshop where I store everything I write except the long fiction. My novels are not online. They are stored away in folders, and flash drives, and external drives. I'm not sure if the first ones are backed up in the good old floppy disks!

When I created the blog, I decided it would be for myself. It would be open to visitors, yes. Everyone enjoys visitors! But it would essentially be for me. On a regular basis, I go back to what I have written a few years ago and compare different texts, different stories, different styles.

It's remarkable how some of the early stories, written by a very inexperienced writer, are actually pretty good. Sometimes being inexperienced is an advantage. Your brain is free to travel in all directions. Experience brings technique often at the expense of creativity.

Ever since I started to write long fiction, the blog became less active, making it look like I haven't been writing. I have!

Well, this year was miserable. The only stories I have been writing on a regular basis are the 100 word stories. Those keep me afloat! They are my oxygen! I'll write about them in another post.

I have struggled with the idea of posting snippets of my long fiction in the blog. I am totally against showcasing something that has not been polished. Enough bad material is already posted online.

Would the blog benefit from having bits and pieces of my novels, as they are being written, posted online? I seriously doubt it especially because those bits and pieces might not even be in the final version of the story or they might be heavily changed. 

I could post the statistics of what I write every week/month. But, again, would that be useful in the long run? Would it bring any interesting data to my writing when I look back on it a few years from now?

Einstein said “Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving.”

So, I... I keep moving.

Writer I

Milk Wood

A writer who doesn't publish is not a writer.

I have heard this over and over again, even coming from people who should know better.

Am I being judgmental? Yes, a bit. However, saying a writer who doesn't publish is not a writer is the same as saying an athlete who doesn't go to the Olympics is not an athlete.

I have been writing all my life. First, I wrote on and off. Then, a few years ago, I started writing every day. Have I published anything? Apart from this blog, I haven't published anything, no. I did take part in a book that was a compilation of stories, non-fiction. Does that count?

Regardless, I have written hundreds of very short-fiction stories, a few short-stories, a few novels, and a bunch of poems. But I'm not a writer. I'm not, because I didn't go to the Olympics of writing.

A while back, someone mentioned my blog's low traffic. I'm sure the remark wasn't mean. I'm sure what was meant was how can such an extraordinarily awesome writer have close to zero clicks on her blog? I jest!

The fact is that this remark once again showed what people think. If you exist as a writer but your blog doesn't have clicks, your social media doesn't have likes and you don't have anything you've written being sold out there, you're not a writer.

You write to tell a story.

You write to vent.

You write to bring out the best and the worst in you.

You write to please an audience.

You also write to have a lot of success.

And, finally, you write to be famous.

Some people do all this.

Asimov said “I write for the same reason I breathe - because if I didn't, I would die.”

I... Well, I write to breathe.

“Who’s blood is that?”

France Portnawak

“Who’s blood is that?” 

He tilted his head, wriggling his nose. Strange card.

The monthly dinner party was a scrumptious meal seasoned with intelligent conversation.

Who'd written this? Certainly not the host. Mrs. Bates would never make such a blatant mistak...

“Wait...”

He folded the card. “Who's that?” Makes sense. These dinners were always slightly mysterious.

He folded it again. “Who's blood?” Ummm...

How about “Blood that?” Too much folding.

He set the card aside and dinner proceeded as usual.

At midnight, the letters on all cards turned red.

He was the only survivor. Apparently, folded evilness doesn't work properly!

100 Word Stories

Chewable and Deadly

Betelgeuse

The greenish sky wasn't a good omen. My grandfather said when the sky's like that, don't chew the air. I laughed. Chew the air. OK! I won't! As time progressed, the sky got worse. It looked poisonous. Some people wore gas masks. It looked quite dramatic. I wondered if I should too. And then the teeth. People's teeth became green. And in a matter of days, they were dropping like flies. Earth was condemned. I moved to P205. There's plenty of work here. But they pay close to nothing. Too many people... I wonder if I should've chewed that air...

100 Word Stories

Powder

Borgatti

Sprinkle some magic powder on the black cat. No. Stretch and stretch, and stretch some more. Grab the shiny star and place it next to the jar. The cat will look, the star will stretch and the jar will smile a sparkly smile. No. The next time you reach for that magic powder, think that it is safer not to reach for a lighter. A lighter? Where did that come from? The cat will stretch. The jar will sparkle. The star will shine. Yes. That's it. Everything is back in place. Neatly. Yawn. I prefer to see the jar smiling.

100 Word Stories

Soar

Betelgeuse

At the top of the mountain, all we could hear was the fire, burning the logs. And we waited. For a sign. One day and another. Time went by. No sign. Our children waited and their children. And when there was no hope left, I stood up.

“I've been here since the beginning. I'm tired. I'm leaving.”

Everyone protested.

I raised my hand. Silence.

“We have burned everything around here. Look! It's ridiculous. Enough is enough. We don't even have a twig to burn, a twig.”

Someone at the back whispered “What was the sign all about again? I forgot.”

100 Word Stories

Cleave

Betelgeuse

The impressive statue filled the room of the museum. It held an ax and a noose, and also a plate of fruit.

Strange combination, he thought.

“Whatever you do, don't touch it,” said the security guard, walking away.

He touched the plate, of course. Nothing happened. The noose. Nothing. The ax. Still nothing.

He shrugged.

Suddenly, something hit him. He got snatched back by the neck and was gone when his back got slashed.

Before the cameras, the director promised he would find the culprits.

The security guard hid the noose and the ax away, and calmly enjoyed his apple.

100 Word Stories

Pick Me and My Headache

Betelgeuse

The entrance to the ship was locked because the entrance ramp got stuck.

"We're in the 25th century, the most modern, developed world anyone has ever experienced, and the ramp is stuck," he mumbled.

He tried everything to fix it.

He was so focused, the speakers startled him when they roared "Time Travel Tomorrow."

"Right, but the ramp is stuck... Stuck."

"We're looking for volunteers."

"Stuck. But... OK, pick me!"

The command center received his telepathic message.

The next day, he was in the 21st century.

He landed right in the middle of the famous 2020 pandemic.

Everything was... stuck.

100 Word Stories

What's That on the Radar?

Betelgeuse

The dot on the screen appeared and disappeared. Damn radar. The next shift would take care of it.

Everyone had turned in for the night and the city lights had been dimmed down. His favorite time of day. He walked by himself. And that was the last walk he took.

They appeared in white robes and masks. They treated everyone like cattle.

They always said this was a planet... It wasn't. It was a ship that had completed its mission. The people were nothing but lab rats. And life would never be the same again. The radar was shut off.

100 Word Stories

Mushroom

Betelgeuse

She found a small jar in her granny's attic. Something sparkled inside.

She placed it back on a shelf and left without telling anyone anything about it.

When her granny died, she went back to the attic.

When she opened it, a swirl of light turned everything into a neon palette of greenery.

She read the small paper stuck to the bottom - "Mushrooms, theirs."

"Theirs?"

The following night, she was visited by them. The weird ones no one knew about, the aliens.

The attic... well, she turned it into a museum where everyone would see... things that didn't really exist.

100 Word Stories

We Apologize For The Inconvenience

Betelgeuse

"Where did you get the wound?" asked his boss as he closed the garage door.

The young man shrugged.

"It looks bad. Go to the hospital. Get that checked."

He nodded and walked away.

"Weird kid. I better check if anything is going on in here."

The boss opened the door and looked around. Nothing was out of place.

As he closed the door, he saw it. He walked closer.

It blinked.

"What the..."

It was the kid.

"How...?"

Before the night was over, there would be two of him as well.

This was just the beginning of the end.

100 Word Stories

Seek

Betelgeuse

The basement of the cathedral was off-limits.

After entering...

"Is this it?" His voice echoed through the web of archways.

The room was empty. A small stand at the back seemed to have some dry red on it.

"Sacrifices," he whispered, thrilled.

The adventure was becoming a lot more interesting than he expected.

Something sparkled in the corner. A button. Press it, press it.

A heavy stone door opened. He walked in. It closed behind him. The sun came through some small windows.

"What is this? The basement?"

The stone door didn't open again.

Never seek what you cannot handle.

100 Word Stories

Illuminate

Collins Land

A few photographs hung from the string of lights. She couldn't remember them. Who was this guy? Where was this photo taken? Her gaze floated from photo to photo, her perplexity increasing.

But then she stopped. The beach. The pebbles. She remembered that.

She looked at the stranger standing beside her.

"It's..."

The stranger nodded.

"You're my son," she said, smiling.

The stranger teared up. "Yes, Mom, I'm your son. We used to go to this beach when I was a kid."

"And you used to pile up the pebbles and say Look, Mom. You were so proud of yourself!"

100 Word Stories

Empowered

I found the page of a book in the forest. I read it. It didn't make much sense. Then, I found another page, and another. I continued down the path and found more pages. I sat down and ordered them. Damn... No page one... I wandered about, trying to find it, until I reached a cabin. Page one was right there. I picked it up and was about to leave when a voice, coming from inside, said "I was expecting you". I've read many pages since, and Old Patrick, the voice, always closes his eyes and smiles while I read.
100 Word Stories

Nobody Gets Out of Here Alive

France Portnawak

The three brothers were alone. The conversation started amicably, but it became bitter very quickly. Accusations flew. The past came back to haunt each one of them. "It wasn't my fault," each would yell. And time went by, the hours long and heavy. No solution in sight. "Nobody gets out of here before we reach an agreement," said the eldest. And no one did. At least, not alive. The widows sobbed, and winked. That bourbon was great. Then, they went on a cruise, enjoying the money their husbands weren't able to divide. Unfortunately, the cruise sank. Karma is a bitch.

100 Word Stories

Chemistry

Amar en Meleth

In a nutshell... The chemistry wasn't right. So, I decided to burn it all, but burn it with style. The documentary didn't make justice to the whole process. It was a masterpiece! I tried to make it as simple as possible. I drew the lines. But it wasn't easy. Everything was a bit wiggly. The actual procedure only took place afterwards, of course. And.. It did burn for quite a bit. I had no idea it would take that long. On top of it all, it didn't work properly. If it had I wouldn't be here, would I, your honor?

100 Word Stories

Ecology Rash

BWC

Lessons in Ecology? No one would dare. He knew far more than all of them put together. He'd spent decades studying the subject. He was "the expert". And he was damn proud of that too. He'd lectured all over the world. He had written so many books that he'd forgotten most of them. These books had been translated to languages from all over the world.

So, when that rash started, he blamed it on the new exotic plant, a gift from a colleague.

He was certainly not an expert on Psychology. He didn't count on something as simple as jealousy.

100 Word Stories

Sanitize

Candia Urban Lounge

"Sanitize this, sanitize that, that's all we hear these days. How about sanitizing at a larger scale?"

The staff sat around the oval table in the meeting room, motionless.

"We just have to have political courage, that's all."

No one uttered a word.

"We start small first and see if anyone complains."

A few people shifted in their chairs, the discomfort growing.

"If the media don't pick up on it, we go bigger. It'll save money too."

The silence was overwhelming.

"OK, then. It's decided. We'll start next week."

They started with the old and the lonely. No one noticed.

100 Word Stories

April Camp 2020

Dendrite

Betelgeuse

"...neurotransmitters that communicate with the dendrites," said the professor standing in front of a large group of students. She didn't need a class on Biology, but she didn't feel like having to wait in the cold for two hours. So, she'd joined that class. Things took a bad turn though when the professor asked her about the damn dendrites and the only thing she could think of was "...stress induces atrophy of apical dendrites". She had no clue where she had read that, but everyone seemed impressed. She smiled and decided that, from then on, she'd wait in the cold.

100 Word Stories

Not

BCC

Don't.

Don't go.

Don't go for a walk.

Don't.

Don't go to the beach.

No, don't swim.

Don't sit and bury your fingers in the golden sand.

Don't build castles and little houses that will crumble with the tide, and mountains with little steps on the side so little imaginary people could climb them safely, their toes feeling the warmth of the sun as they tread upwards.

Don't.

Don't stand so close.

Don't sneeze and laugh and cough.

Don't breathe.

Don't wrap your arms around a sad shoulder.

Don't breathe.

Don't take things for granted.

Don't breathe.

Don't be...

Don't.

100 Word Stories

Impossible

Asalia House

The radio was on and a tired voice repeated their names. These were the names of poor souls lost forever.

The authorities tried to warn everyone. No one cared. Everyone continued to do as they had always done.

The tears came first. They thought it was due to too much exposure to flash lights.

And then they simply disappeared into thin air, as happened when the light is turned off and darkness takes over.

The radio repeated the names because they were considered missing persons, but they weren't missing. They were gone. They were gone into unbearably impossible killer selfies.

100 Word Stories

Device

Il Nido

"This is a magical device. You open it and things jump at your face and hit your eyes. As you touch it, you may have an allergic reaction and sneeze, especially if the device is quite old. But... beware. You must hide it. You must hide it carefully. This device was brought to us millions and millions of years ago by the humans."

"What could jump out of it?"

"Dust."

"Human dust?"

Nods.

"But also words, and ideas, and doubts, and questions."

"Human questions?"

"No, just questions."

"Will they make me smile?"

"Yes, they'll make you smile a human smile."

100 Word Stories

Gulf

France Portnawak

The tour of the Gulf was such a nice idea. The fresh air, the birds flying close-by. The tour of the Gulf was also cheap. No one wanted fresh air and rain, birds flying close-by and pooping.

So, they embarked.

"Wonderful adventure", "Unique opportunity", "An experience you'll never forget".

Yes, it sure was unforgettable, especially when the boat tilted dramatically to one side and people screamed at the top of their lungs, scaring the poor birds away. Fresh air was something difficult to find too. Everyone was sick and bird poop was not exactly the worst thing happening that day.

100 Word Stories

Gate

Betelgeuse

At the gate, the entangled cables covered the walls and sneaked through. No one knew what they were for, and no one asked. As the days went by, more cables appeared, increasing the entanglement of the hopelessly entangled mess.

And then came the kid. He unplugged all the cables, straightened them up, and plugged them all back in. It took him a while too. But he was pleased with himself. He smiled and walked away.

No one in town had the heart to complain about the hours with no power. But they did make sure to avoid any future entanglements.

100 Word Stories

Tinfoil

Il Nido

I recall the fresh sandwiches wrapped in tinfoil, the extra juice in a clear bottle, Agatha Christie's books packed in twos just in case I could read a whole book in a few hours.

The stubborn folded chairs, the clean towels, and the golden sand, sneaking through the seams.

The waves, the wind, and the seagulls fluttering about, announcing a storm.

"It's your turn," someone said.

I look at my pieces and I have nothing but an apple. The tray beams with words, but my only thought is... The sun still shines. They are gone... But the sun still shines.

100 Word Stories

The End of The Rope

Seasalts

"Tie a knot and hang on... I'll tie a knot around their necks. Be happy and blah blah blah..."

She was grumpy all the time. The neighbors would always scatter away in all directions, hiding from her.

And then came a bird. She scared it away, but the bird came back, again and again. And it brought a little twig, then another, and soon there was a nest. And baby birds!

She opened a bit of the window and gave the mommy some seeds she had bought.

No one could believe it when, one day, she simply said "Good morning!".

100 Word Stories

Hot Potato

Slaughterhouse

"This is a problem."

Everyone nodded and looked at the entrance of the tunnel.

"This is a huge problem."

Everyone nodded some more and looked at the entrance of the tunnel.

Silence.

"What if we close it down?"

All eyes landed on the unfortunate soul who uttered such nonsense.

"It'll be the end of the town!"

Everyone looked back at the entrance of the tunnel.

"There's a light over there," whispered the unfortunate soul.

"We know, it's the hole caused by the landslide."

"There's a light..."

"Stop it!"

The light at the end of the tunnel was not the hole.

100 Word Stories

Lapse

Tim's Dreams by Romy Nayar

Who was that man, everyone wondered.

He wore a long coat and pulled around a big box with wheels. The box had a small window and the kids tried to look inside. That made him mad.

Who was that man, everyone thought.

One day, he walked into the water, small waves splashing on his ankles. He stood there for a long time, the box left unattended on the sand.

Then, something happened. The lid of the box opened but no one saw anything.

However, when she reached the water, she appeared. She smiled and swam away.

Who was that man...

100 Word Stories

Hankering

Natural Mignon Colore

Going back, that's all she thought about, going back and sitting on that bench under the pergola, under the sky, close to her dreams...

She used to have dreams. She used to sit there and smile, looking up and enjoying the colors of the sunset. She used to think life was whatever she wanted it to be.

She was far away now, so far away, too far away. She looked at the sky but the colors weren't the same. She wondered if the bench was still there.

Then, she heard the sirens. It was time to move... and hide... again.

100 Word Stories

Pulled From the Water

Octoberville

They look off.

They don't!

They do... is this a... tentacle?

The two friends tilted their heads.

You are crazy. I've been eating fish from these waters for months, said the merchant, adjusting the back of his shirt.

I don't think we should buy these...

Come on. I'll give you a special discount, how about that?

The two friends exchanged looks.

Well, OK then.

A month later, they were selling fish on the pier. The merchant had been promoted.

They too adjusted the back of their shirts.

It was a nuisance the shirts didn't have room for the damn tentacle.

100 Word Stories