Fast Lane

Music Island

The Theatre was full and ready for the live broadcast. What an extraordinary event. A man stepped on the stage. And he pointed at something luscious, hot, and absolutely exquisite. Colorful and rich, it flourished as the audience peeked left and right through a forest of curious and hopeful eyes. The man was explaining incomprehensible terms of a cryptic technique that would for sure become the latest trend around the world. His irresistibly mysterious frowns sparked utter awe. It was brilliant! He was brilliant! A new generation star! He was a cook and that was “The Culinary Fast Lane”.

Writer's Dash

Bar

S.I.C

It was right there, they thought. At least, that’s how they remembered it. But it wasn’t right there. Hours of roaming the city, blinded by neon lights, and the two could simply not find it.

“You didn’t bring the card,” John said.

“Again?!” sighed Peter.

Suddenly, one wrong turn and there were four of them…  The strike hit Peter on the temple.

“What are you looking for?” asked the stranger.

“Nothing,” replied John.

“Finish him off.”

A faint “No…” was muffled by the cold iron bar swooshing in the air.

A card slipped from John’s back pocket saying Pigeons’ Bar.

100 Word Stories

Cauterize

Secret Garden

Cauterize this wound,

This heart,

This soul.

Cauterize it,

Pink balloons,

Red boxes,

Dark chocolates.

Cauterize

This nightmarish parade of clichés,

And foolish tears.

“Plus que ma propre vie, plus… que ma propre vie…”

Writer's Dash

Zeppelin

Haunted

“No Smoking!”

“No Food or Drinks!”

“Remain seated!”

“Keep hands inside car at all times!”

This was not funny, the kid thought. After all, it was a prize! He won, fairly too. He didn’t cheat. “You’ll ride the zeppelin,” they said.  And he believed them. How naïve of him, he now realized. THE zeppelin, as they repeated over and over again emphasizing the “THE” with great enthusiasm and deference, was nothing but a fair cart going through a tunnel. Oh yes, ghosts and skeletons and spooky sounds, he thought bored out of his wits. It was not his first ride at a fair. But to call it Zeppelin… They had tricked him… He spent weeks reading about Count Ferdinand, about flying and hovering and going back in time. And now he was stuck in a cart called Zeppelin. As the cart started rolling on its rails, it picked up so much speed that the kid had to grab the security handle firmly. That was NOT a Zeppelin; that was a killer ride! When it was over, the kid stumbled down from the cart as quickly as he could and threw the coldest look at the chuckling holiday camp monitors. If looks could kill… it would be fast like killer Zeppelin cart and not like the real placid zeppelin!

Writer's Dash

Doppelganger

Mare Serenitatis

High above the tree,

The lighthouse shone,

A twin to the moon,

Ripping the night through.

It murmured faintly,

Enchanted by evil thoughts,

Immersed by sinister omens.

“Doppelganger, doppelganger,”

Whispered the wind low…

Writer's Dash

Shell Shock

Mare Serenitatis

Glazed, dazed, lonely eyes, the horizon... Numb and tired, the horizon seems not far … Slow and tired, confused and dead inside. “Mentally unstable,” they said. Lost. And the horizon seems not far enough.

Writer's Dash

Strike, Team and Alpha

Fae Varriale's "Wonderland" 2012

“Not good,” Strike said peaking through the window.

Team nodded.

“What are you talking about?!” Alpha was angry.

“You go first, Strike.”

“First?!”

“Yes, explain what we mean,” replied Team.

“Ah!” said Strike with a sigh of relief.

 “This is a covert operation. What’s the problem?” asked Alpha annoyed.

Strike and Team looked anxious.

“Let’s go,” commanded Alpha.

Suddenly there was a loud noise, a shot.

 “Uh-oh…” said Strike.

Team nodded.

 “See, I told him. His wife wouldn’t like the surprise.  This Strike Team Alpha anniversary gift was a bad idea. Too kinky…”

Strike nodded.

“Coffee?”

“And cream,” replied Team.

100 Word Stories

Strike Team Alpha

Haunted

After years of attacks, the authorities called in the big guns. They were tough, they were dangerous. They were the reason children played in the streets now and women walked home from work late at night. Thieves, drug dealers, murderers and serial killers didn’t stand a chance. Tenacious and all geared up, they would roam the streets hunting predators down.  Their motto was KISS. KISS them and KISS them again. They were Kimberly, Ivy, Suzy and Samantha, the Strike Team Alpha of the neighborhood. “Can I have an ice-cream, Granny?” asked 5 year old Peter. “No,” replied KISS in unison.

100 Word Stories