Stars

To Old Jack,

Jack Fenton Moore

Sometimes, there’s someone who believes in you.

Sometimes, that person calls you Dreamer and everything seems possible.

And you dream and you create.

Then, suddenly, you close your eyes and you can’t understand.

That hug was too short...

The echo is still there though, reverberating in your memory, pushing you forward.

A word of encouragement was enough for you not to give up back then.

So, you look up and smile. The old owl is somewhere, up there perhaps, reading your stories. He’s nodding, happy that one single word made you believe.

“Dreamer, write. Don’t stop. Write.”

One word.

Dreamer.

100 Word Stories

Jar

Octobeville

“What do you keep in that jar, Bernie?”

“Lard.”

Connor got closer to the shelf.

“That doesn't look like lard.”

“Oh, right. That’s an eye.”

“Human?”

“Of course, human.”

“Whose eye is it?!” asked Connor, shocked.

“It’s Parker’s.”

Connor took a step back.

“Why?”

“My wife was having an affair with him.”

“Shouldn't you have plucked your wife’s eye instead…?”

The second Connor uttered these words, he regretted it bitterly.

“I did, both of them, and ate them too.”

Horrified, Connor watched Bernie flip a piece of meat on the grill and realized he hadn't seen Bernie’s wife in weeks.

100 Word Stories

Prayer

Milk Wood

The old woman huffed and puffed. The path was rocky and steep.

“Pray. It helps, they said.”

Yes, she did pray. However, that didn't help. t made things worse. The animals died and the small green garden dried up.

“I’ll tell them.”

When she reached the castle, she was ushered into a large ballroom, a pale gloomy figure staring at her.

“I bring you a peace offer.”

The figure nodded.

“It’s a broth. I hope you enjoy it.”

A few days later, the green garden started sprouting but the castle was eerily quiet.

“Our garlic, who art in my broth…”

100 Word Stories

Camp NaNoWriMo

Camp NaNoWriMo

Wine

WinterSweet

“Look, this wine costs a fortune,” said the sommelier, tilting the bottle.

At the beginning, the teen students seemed interested and nodded.

“If I dropped it… What a catastrophe!”

Then some started yawning.

“It must taste heavenly!”

Several strayed away.

However, the sommelier was quite proud of his presentation and he didn't see it coming.

One unsuspected elbow and the bottle slipped from his hand, crashing on the floor.

All laughed uncontrollably.

The sommelier died inside... He dashed onto a shelf, smashing a fortune and his future.

The kids just gazed back at their phones and forgot all about it.

100 Word Stories

Endless

Pure Dreams

She sat and listened to the world around her. The wind whispered softly. The tree branches murmured familiar words from the past. She tried not to listen. She tried. The branches rustled louder, threatening to undermine her determination. And she looked beyond the line dividing the horizon in two, that line so rugged, so hilly, so full of pain. She closed her eyes and whispered with the wind. And she sat, she just sat, and listened to the world around her, an endless string of promises filled her with hope. A day, only a day, and everything would be different.

100 Word Stories

Wings

Octoberville

The tombstone in her parents’ garden had an overgrown buzzing cactus leaning over it. Victoria wondered why it had no names, no dates. She got married, moved away. After three miscarriages and a divorce, Victoria visited the tombstone. Suddenly, there were four names on it, the names of her babies and her own “Died June 10 1819”. As she pondered about it, the cactus, home to a nest of killer bees, fell on her. Barely a body anymore when found, Victoria, the heir of a huge fortune, was buried at the Pauper’s Cemetery. Still, no one cared about that tombstone.

100 Word Stories

Animal

Annwn Willows

“My friend, I've killed Mrs. Squirrel.”

Pam looked at the talking squirrel in shock but decided to play along.

“Where did you bury her?”

“I didn't. I put her up on the wall.”

“What?”

“I’ll show you.”

Mrs. Squirrel’s head was indeed mounted above the mantelpiece.

“There was a problem,” said Mr. Squirrel.

“Only one?!”

“The biggest one was that I drank from this bottle. I was thirsty.”

The label read “Back to Nature”.

“I never thought it would actually turn me into an animal.”

Pam shook her head. “That damned snake oil salesman. We’ll get the antidote from him.”

100 Word Stories

Feather Brain?

Forgotten City

“Hey, feather brain, wake up!”

Peter straightened up and tilted his head to one side, then to the other.

“I’m awake.”

“What’s your task for today?”

“I don’t know.”

“Go to the Task Dispenser and press a number.”

“I did.”

“And?”

“I accomplished it.”

“You were sleeping. How could you have accomplished anything?”

Peter searched his pocket and produced a crumpled slip of paper he handed to the robot. It stated “Take the day off”.

The robot stormed away in a fit of rage, screaming.

“Who hacked the Task Dispenser again? If I catch you, you’ll be sorry. I swear.”

100 Word Stories (Prompt: Feathers)

Clear

Mystical Falls

A small window allowed him a narrow view of the world. He liked that. A seagull flew by every now and then. And he just did his job.

That night, he didn't do his job; that’s what the money was for. In sheer darkness, he turned a blind eye. He sat down, his back towards the money piled up on the table.

The next morning, when he read the news, he climbed to the top of the lighthouse and jumped. In his mind, he became a seagull flying in a clear blue sky, carrying that kid who had been kidnapped.

100 Word Stories

Disemboweled Regret

Milk Wood

The tomb was empty. Everyone panicked.

The searches lasted weeks.

Some believed the body was stolen. Others, that the lost soul would haunt a neighboring town, considering no haunting-related problems occurred.

The searches stopped.

A fortnight later, a ghostly voice roared “Do you regret it now?”

Everyone recognized it. It was homeless John who littered the streets for weeks. They asked him to leave. He refused. The town decided to solve the problem swiftly.

He was back now. Every morning, someone showed up dead, disemboweled and displayed in front of the town hall, just like it had happened to him.

100 Word Stories

Your Earliest Memory

FrancePortnawak

“I died and went to Heaven. Heaven is very cold. My wife ordered me to bring a pullover. She knitted it for me. The last thing I recall is those men forcing me to wear it. Heaven is also quite intriguing. I thought I’d meet God, angels, and good-hearted people but my earliest memory of being in Heaven is when I almost turned into food. Now, I’m a pet. Good thing growling Mathilda (as I call her) is warm and cuddly. Still today, I wonder why my wife sent me to Heaven, although I seriously doubt it’s really called Heaven.”

100 Word Stories

Eleven!

Well done!

What's for Dinner?

Asalia House

The children looked at their plates, disappointed.

“Can’t we have something different for a change?”

“Be grateful, there’s food on the table,” replied the headmistress.

Some of the kids sulked, others refused to eat. When lunch ended, most of the food went back to the kitchen, untouched.

“What should I do with this?” asked the head cook.

“Give it to the dogs. There’s no room in the fridge. And when you go by the cemetery later today, don’t bring the hands. The kids don’t like seeing fingers floating in the soup. Oh, well, at least the dogs will be happy.”

100 Word Stories

Flight

Tierra de Fuego

Cramped in their seats, no one moved. No one could move. The flights had become sheer torture. The number of seats increased but no one complained because the prices were irresistible. When the row started at the back, no one gave it much thought. It was only understandable. When the frantic voice of the stewardess asked people to remain seated, no one reacted. When a clearly tense captain announced an emergency landing, most were relieved. When the emergency crews arrived, the biggest piece to be found was the size of a handbag. Dirt cheap, said the flight advertisement. So true.

100 Word Stories

At the Builder’s Brewery Art Festival

For the second year, I was invited by the Builder's Brewery in Second Life to donate a piece of my writing to be auctioned for Relay For Life (RFL). I have chosen a poem I wrote a long time ago that still today moves me for the seed of hope it conveys, "Peace Returns".

If you can, do bid on it. All proceedings will go to the American Cancer Society. The bidding can be done between May 21st and May 28th. To go to the location of the Art Auction, click here.

The Art Auction is one amongst many events taking place throughout the week. For more information, click here. For the Builder's Brewery RFL Art Auction Shopping Guide, click here.

Thank you for helping! <3

Out of my Brain

Innsmouth

The roads were littered with metal scraps. The food was scarce. No one dared say a word. The real problem was none of this; it was the compulsory pea-sized contraption. Then, they went back home and all the brains on Earth were placed in suspended mode, our bio energy being sucked away, long-distance. When they returned for a check-up, I was part of the test sample. I hid, and jabbed my eye to get them out of my brain. I lost an eye but they never saw me again. More have done it too. We’ll get Earth back, one day.

100 Word Stories

Cave

Octoberville

The growling coming from the cave was nothing compared to the fear they shared of ghosts. Emily, however, had a deep rooted curiosity about entities of a parallel dimension. The problem was that these entities enjoyed playing tricks on their mortal counterparts. One was imitating voices and that growling was exceptionally realistic indeed. When they stepped inside the cave to take a picture of the ghost, the flash showed them, for a fraction of a second, the chilling white teeth of a huge black bear. “Oh, so ghosts don’t exist after all,” said Emily disappointed with the insignificant furry problem.

100 Word Stories

Think of a Number

Octoberville

“He slept for a thousand years,” read Mrs. Thomson. “And when he woke up,” she continued, hoping to keep the class quiet. “He…”

That’s when Peter stood up.

“Why did he sleep that long?”

The kids looked at him.

“I don’t understand.”

The quiet class quickly turned into a mob of loud kids.

“Children, the story isn't over yet,” protested Mrs. Thomson. It was hopeless.

Twenty years went by and Mrs. Thomson received a letter.

“I think I understand why he slept for a thousand years. I wish I could do the same.

Signed,

Peter, in for a life sentence.”

100 Word Stories

Camp NaNoWriMo Goal Reached!

And here it is, the moment to bask in the fact that I have reached the goal I had established for myself. 10.000 words in 30 days and a few more chapters done.

I'm now only a few chapters away from (finally) finishing The Unspoken Footnote.

The next step is to finish the novel and to start revising it during the upcoming CampNaNoWriMo in July.

The Camp at my writers' community in Milk Wood will be up and running till then and I'll continue to host the 500 Word Snatches to give everyone who'd like to join me a bit of a push, 30 minutes/500 words at a time!