Pin It
Favorite

101-WORD FICTION CONTEST Part 5 

Entries 128-159


Compiled by Michael Bowen





Untitled


Nova stared intently at the screen, finger poised over the keypad, waiting for the blip signaling a solar flare, the perfect cover for sabotage. Blip. Tap. "We're in " she hissed as Solobot swept under the TechWatch perimeter, soared to the first massive TimberMill robot and locked silently onto the Sequencing Module. Tap. Lights flashed as


Solobot began the decoding sequence. Stormy eyes scanned the on-screen Tech stations for alarms. Nothing. "Vector 1 TimberMills out of operation in...tap...18 minutes " she proclaimed triumphantly to the ancient forest around her. Nova grinned savagely, "Then on to Vectors 2...3...4... "


-- Robin Waring





& amp; & amp;





Untitled


We were sitting on the calico blue floorboards of the porch, staring into the ankle-tall grass, when he offered me a bite of his sandwich. As i looked up into his shy, smiling eyes, i realized i was currently everything to him. With a halo of golden curls, a sheer cotton dress, an infectious laugh, and a southern drawl way of walking; i was barefoot, freckled and had short, unpainted fingernails. I was as plain and as simple as a field of grain, and twice as golden. I was his picnic table angel, and he was my tire swing soldier.


-- Samantha Kinlin





& amp; & amp;





Words


My boyfriend is a writer. Ideas are constantly flowing from his fingertips as stray thoughts are fleshed out, turned into stories, or merged with older stories. Some of them will sit for a year or two, like fine wine, before he returns to them. He holds an entire world in his


mind, and uses it as backdrop for some of his tales. Others revolve around themes that are central to him, have roots in experience, or arechildren of a wandering mind that keeps asking "what if? "


He's sold one story. Including the title, it was 16 words long.


-- Rakelle O.





& amp; & amp;





A long-expected adventure


At dusk, I looked out the window and drew my breath. It was time. I dressed warmly, grabbed the bag I had prepared, and headed out the door.


It was quite cold outside, but there was no wind and very few clouds. The crescent moon illuminated the path below. The forest was silent, my boots creaking on the snow the only sound as I passed the icicle-coated cliffs.


Upon reaching the bottom of the hill, I stopped and straightened my back.


Then, I lifted the lid of the bin, threw the garbage bag inside, closed the bin and walked away.


-- Rakelle O.





& amp; & amp;





Stroke Away the Glow


With mock bitterness he had told her how he'd walked so many miles to meet her here at the hotel. While she knew he didn't really mind, her heart heard him differently, pitying him as he slept on his belly next to her.


She imagined the sore tendons in his feet, ankles and knees emitting a soft glow where it hurt the most. It was her duty to heal her sleeping lover, to slowly stroke away the pain.


-- Aaron Teschner





& amp; & amp;





Untitled


She fixed wet mashed potatoes with pepper and salt, corn off the cob, and roast beef that was almost as tender as the potatoes.


I mixed it up into a stew and scooped it into my mouth. My jaw ached, wanting to swallow the whole plateful at once.


I wanted seconds, but I knew I might not hold down what I'd already eaten, it'd been so long.


Took me a moment, eyes closed, to convince myself I didn't need more. That hunger seemed worse when it was being satisfied: I would have eaten the


world if it fit on my plate.


-- Aaron Teschner





& amp; & amp;





In the Wake


One week later, Dave and I were heading home from Auntie's, where we'd bought a few books. The clerks had been in as much of a daze as we were; only talk radio hosts seemed to have recovered.


"How should America respond to its enemies? " the woman asked, "America is hurt and angry. America needs to do SOMETHING. "


I had never met America, although supposedly I had lived on its back for 25 years. I patted the floor in response to the woman's query.


-- Aaron Teschner





& amp; & amp;





Untitled


"What is that music? It's beautiful. "


"Oh, it's the Flute Guy. "


"Doesn't he have a name? "


"I imagine he does, most people do. "


"Smart ass. I mean, how can you not know? "


"Do you know Massive Headwound Guy's name? Or Spoon Man's? "


"They're kinda like superheroes, I guess. I almost don't want to know. "


-- Aaron Teschner





& amp; & amp;





Untitled


Wanted: ripped abs, cute smile. Must dance good. Brandi.


Brandi, I say the body is the form and the boundary. Within these bars of flesh we strive for release; creating visions of freedom and strategies for dancing beyond the edge of the possible.


"Are you a good dancer? "


I plow my spring fields by dancing. Row upon row I shape the ground with my exuberant feet and seduce Mother Earth to receive my seed. I dance to set the day alight. I dance with Saint Andreas himself.


"You're too weird. "


Yes. But my rhythms could have driven your heart, Brandi. Good-bye.


-- Neil Haven





& amp; & amp;





Untitled


Every Tuesday I treated Professor Brown to lunch, where he would philosophize. I barely had room for food; his thoughts were copious and satisfying.





This Wednesday, I went alone to our usual haunt. He and a young student were there. I sat nearby and listened. Though not a copy of his conversations with me, his thoughts sounded just as witty and insightful.





He would stare at the ceiling, then through the window, then back to the ceiling again. He never saw me, or his companion. He simply ratcheted some invisible bolt tighter with his eyeballs, while greasing it with his voice.


-- Aaron Teschner





& amp; & amp;





Untitled


Pregnancy was monotonous and confining; she was restless, he, "relax; enjoy the calm while it lasts. " She worried - the whole baby thing - they were completely inexperienced. At least she was not, like some, on her own.


At last, "this is it - let's go. " They headed out, both constricted by apprehension. Upon arrival, they were at first disconcerted; bright lights, cold drafts, loud voices. "Twins! A girl . . . and a boy! " Then, they each were held close, stroked, murmured to, kissed. Grateful for the warm and reassuring reception, they relaxed and slept.


-- Diane Kipp





& amp; & amp;





Elvis, Tennessee 1956


Elvis shoots out of the jukebox at the Dairy Queen like White Lightning, ricocheting around booths, up Edna's skirt, under her sky blue sweater set.


All of a sudden, Edna wants love--tenderly, cruelly, any way at all.


Holding the vibrating table, she watches her Deluxe Swirl Cup melting.


Eddie slouches to his jeep and summons.


Edna


falls


headlong


into


"Heartbreak Hotel. "


-- Broeck Wahl Blumberg





& amp; & amp;





Untitled


She looks for IEDs along the road, sweat trickling under the Kevlar.


She looks for threatening movements as her convoy rumbles by.


She also looks for friendly faces. Boys who run alongside her vehicle, shouting too fast for her to understand. Girls and their mothers, waving shyly in response to her gesture of greeting.


She spots the old man who trudges to the market each day, his face as cracked as this parched countryside, his expression always severe.


Touching the uniform over her heart, she greets him in his own tongue -- badly, she suspects.


His smile is like rain. Soft. Welcome.


-- Rory Metcalf





& amp; & amp;





Untitled


She stood over his cold body. Would "I'm sorry " have mattered?


She reached down guiltily. This was the result of her neglect, of taking him for granted. Would it have hurt her to pay attention after those first six months of constant monitoring?


She had begun the relationship with so much enthusiasm, eagerly meeting his every need as soon as she awakened each day. How quickly things soured, like stagnant water full of dangerous bacteria eating away at her new love.


"Fin rot? " Her husband said.


"Yep, fin rot, " she replied as she flushed the goldfish down the toilet.


-- Jennifer Waters





& amp; & amp;





Untitled


"Now what did you have to go and do that for? "


I turned my head slightly toward the kitchen, where my mother's voice could clearly be heard shouting to my older brother. He was always getting into some kind of trouble. Judging by the sound of it, he had finally managed to get his mattress up on the roof. I don't think he would be getting to sleep up there anytime soon, though. I sighed a little and turned back to the TV screen. I swear, at this rate he'll never live to see his thirteenth birthday.


-- Julia Dixon





& amp; & amp;





Untitled


The boy skated the perimeter of the pond one more time. Then he lay down on the ice with his arms and legs sprawled out. He looked up at the untouchable half-full moon. Hurried by the wind, the clouds moving in front of the moon passed on to the other side of the sky and on to the other side of the world.


-- Becky Carlson





& amp; & amp;





Untitled


A...F...I... This is where my windpipe shrinks. I'm a ventriloquist dummy up here; eyes rolling, mouth empty and dry. Desperation sets in as I realize I'm stuck. I think diversion but that Indian kid before me already faked a


faint . That heartless Hindu, his word was Cothurnus for crying out loud. Flop sweating, I notice that time seems to be moving on without me. No child left behind, my ass. Maybe if I pissed my pants this spell would be broken. Nope. My kidneys are dry as my throat. There is a suggestion that I finish. A..F..F..


-- Kory Rountree





& amp; & amp;





Untitled


Behre knew well the herbalist's art. In short order his tincture took its effect on Tesa and the pain did recede. A great cloudiness entered her mind. It became as though she watched the proceedings from beyond the cabin window, sight and sound obscured by falling snow. In what to Tesa could have been hours or minutes, Behre lifted the infant, declaring, "It's a girl! " Malana received the helpless child and turned for the other room meaning only to dry her. But Tesa, in her delirium, misread the gesture. She saw only that her baby was being taken away.


-- L. Anne Paul





& amp; & amp;





Untitled


He grabbed my shoulder, asked if he could come in and walked into the living room before I said anything. Warren silently stood up from his chair. The world seemed to be moving in a slow, strangely rhythmical motion that swallowed the air. I sat down. The curtains in the living room were open wide enough for me to see my reflection in the window. It was too dark to see through it. The cop sat down without being asked, breathed deep and looked at Warren instead of me. There was never any question about what was wrong.


-- Jeremy Cushman





& amp; & amp;





Untitled


I have always worked in rewind. I was the kid who read the Choose Your Own Adventure Series backwards. I would turn to a page where the character died and flip back to one of the fateful pages. I would want to find out how they met their death. What choices did they make? Would I have chosen differently? Was it possible to foresee the end? Despite all of this, I ended up studying biology and nearly flunked history. Go figure.


-- Dylan Higgins





& amp; & amp;





Untitled


"Two words, " she said, flame-red hair up in twin firecracker pigtails exploding from her head. "First word--peaceful. " He smiled, confused but happy.


They'd met two days before, splashing, midday hot, behind the carousel: his wooly blond mop, river-dunked, draining slowly; her dainty kerchief dabs . . . their eyes, meeting, unable to look away. So a date--or maybe a dare: midnight, belly of the Big Red Wagon. They talked until sun-up, beneath warm stars. No touching. Yet.


Now, skipping downhill, she led him by the hand to a blanket hidden riverside, in trees: wine, a candle, two soft pillows. "Valley. "


--Dennis Held





& amp; & amp;





Drowning


The cold salty ocean surrounded me as far as the eye could see. I was so tired. There was so much water, so much water. I slipped beneath the water, too tired to swim any longer. My lungs ached as I sank deeper and deeper


Honey," my wife said, walking into our small kitchen where I sat with a pile of bills laid out in front of me. "The bank just called. They've agreed to refinance our mortgage."


The waters vanished like the morning mist and I found myself on dry ground once again.


-- Aaron Thykeson





& amp; & amp;





Rain


The rain pounded down on my upturned face. It was a cold rain, cold and penetrating, but it could not penetrate the fog encompassing me. My clothes were long since soaked through.


"Are you all right?"


I turned and saw a beautiful angel standing beneath a bright red umbrella. Her smile was the sun and it burned away the fog of my depression in an instant. Yes," I said. "I am now."


"Then come inside honey, your dinner.s getting cold," my wife said gently, holding out the umbrella to cover us both.


-- Aaron Thykeson





& amp; & amp;





Fire


I felt the heat of the flames on my face. The stench of roasting flesh filled my nostrils. Thick acrid black smoke billowed around me, making it difficult to breath. I started to cough, my eyes watered.


Was this the end? I thought desperately to myself. What had I done wrong that it had come to this?


"Honey, turn down the grill. You're burning the steak," my wife shrieked from inside the house where a group of our friends were gossiping around a platter of freshly killed vegetables.


"Yes dear," I said reaching for the knob.


-- Aaron Thykeson








& amp; & amp;





Gladiator


Sweat trickled down my face as I surveyed my surroundings. I stood at the center of a vast arena. Thousands of spectators cheered or booed as their fancies took them. There was no escape, only the brief thrill of the fight.


The man-thing jabbed at me with a metal fork, a hooked net held ready in his other hand.


I knocked the fork aside and pounced. Claws ripped through leather and flesh, finding the vital organs beneath. I threw back my head and howled in triumph.


"And the lion gets another one," the announcer shouted and the crowd went wild.


-- Aaron Thykeson





& amp; & amp;





Untitled


"I am not entirely certain of your motives, madam, " and Allister meant it, "yet I am strangely drawn to your poorly drawn persona."


When Allister awoke, he was rolled neatly into a Persian rug, albeit an obvously expensive one. He hadn't seen very much American television, but what he had gave him little hope of the situation turning out to his benefit. So Allister Withnail did what all good Englishmen do when faced with an impossibe situation, he fainted.


-- Kory Rountree





& amp; & amp;





Entropy


She sat on the edge of the couch. She sat on the edge of the couch most of the day and into the night. She sat on the edge of the couch most of the day and into the night and...She sat on the edge of the couch most of the day and into the night surrounded by magazines and junk mail growing as friendly as a forest of pine and birch. Across the street they played baseball in the fog. She sat on the edge of the couch and...She sat on the edge of the couch. She sat.


-- Anne Selcoe





& amp; & amp;





Untitled


Madeline Parker was a little girl who liked eating juicy, deep-purple plums straight from the tree; playing baseball; and taking long walks with her tiny brown and white dog, Henry. She also enjoyed spending time at Leaf-Mouse Cottage.


Written directions to this cottage were lost long ago. Yet, for those who remembered, the pathway was found to be long and meandering, composed of filtered light and lingering darkness, not allowing the traveler to see too far ahead at any particular moment.


Madeline remembered.


-- Susan Edwards





& amp; & amp;





A Swift Kick In The Throat


As I sit begrudgingly on the coach taking in sips of air, I ponder the events that have brought me to such a harrowing state. Minutes ago I turned down an offer to engage in alcoholic delusion and merriment, only to have the esteem honor of holding court on my dated and shedding couch. Do I dare go in the back and disturb the sleeping nymph who dominates my life? She does have my nose, my face, and some how pulls at the strings of my heart, once a dry tune. For my transgressions, let me do this one thing right.


-- Devon Traylor





& amp; & amp;





Untitled


There is something about the morning sun that makes you feel special when it touches you. Its warmth and glow slicing through the crisp air of early dawn gives you the feeling that anything is possible. A freshness, born anew each day, filled with enough energy to fight a thousand dragons. Unfortunately, I'm a night person. And right now the sun was strategically fixating it's rays on my leg cast, making it feel more like a firing kiln and I was the greenware.


-- Marina





& amp; & amp;





Neapolitan Ice Cream


Weesie, 94, hadn't been out of bed much lately. Still appreciative, she preferred her reveries to conversation or Lawrence Welk.


"Bring her to my office," the doctor said.


"She's leaving us," the visiting nurse said.


"No Hospice. Bring her to my office," the doctor said.


"Neapolitan ice cream," she said. Her choice for dinner.


"Alright. Three morphine patches," the doctor said.


"Mama - Shall we go to the hospital?" (Please! Not in a spasm of agony, I prayed.)


"No," she said.


She died peacefully, looking into my eyes. The cat slept on her bed.


On her death certificate, the doctor wrote, "Alzheimer's."


-- Bea Lackaff





& amp; & amp;





The Bitter Reign of The Younger, King of Sweet Crude


The Younger's mother's hair color matched the pearls she always wore around her neck. His father, The Elder, was king for four years. The Younger popped out in a gusher of placenta mixed with sweet crude oil. He hated books and intellectuals and things foreign. One day, The Younger declared himself king; for protection, he formed the Order of Shrubites and the Knights Who Say "Nee-O-Kon." He warred against trees, undomesticated animals, air, water, and imaginary enemies baking bombs of yellowcake. He taxed peasants while enriching loyal commercemongers. God worked through him, The Younger said. Many believed who should have grieved.


-- Jim Cranford





& amp; & amp;





Holarchy


Marisa loved history and her question was clear. Relaxing, she descended to crystal level, her question becoming a bubble rising. At insight it burst, revealing a West Point lecture in 2056.


"Yes, privacy is still an issue for a few, but when it became obvious that technology would eliminate privacy, rational people abandoned the notion of the hidden self. The suicides of the 30's eliminated most of the remaining irrationals. Society's forsaking of privacy was the trigger for the telepathic phenomena of our time--and many now speculate that eventually simply asking a question will be tantamount to knowing its answer."


-- Jeremy Street

  • Pin It

Latest in News

  • A Forever Home
  • A Forever Home

    On National Adoption Day, families become whole
    • Nov 25, 2014
  • It's Exploding
  • It's Exploding

    Why lawmakers and cops are worried about people blowing themselves up
    • Nov 25, 2014
  • GU Shake-Up
  • GU Shake-Up

    The woman overseeing reports of sexual assault at Gonzaga resigns; plus, a new study on Lakeland Village
    • Nov 25, 2014
  • More »

Comments

Subscribe to this thread:

Add a comment

Today | Thu | Fri | Sat | Sun | Mon | Tue
Holiday Light Show Lighting Ceremony

Holiday Light Show Lighting Ceremony @ The Coeur d'Alene Resort

Fri., Nov. 28, 5-7 p.m.

All of today's events | Staff Picks

Most Commented On

  • The Lives on the Bus

    Can the STA redesign the Plaza in a way that makes everyone happy?
    • Nov 12, 2014
  • Prisoners of War

    The war on drugs isn't over. Still in the feds' crosshairs: medical marijuana growers across eastern Washington
    • Oct 29, 2014
  • More »

© 2014 Inlander
Website powered by Foundation