Last week’s challenge: “Stock Photo What-The-Palooza.”
(Once more, sorry this challenge is up late — vacation last week with poor Internet access had me unable to post the damn thing properly. But here it is! Don’t throw things!)
This week’s challenge is:
Write a story in 100 words. (Technical term: “drabble.”)
I don’t care what genre.
I want it to be a complete story. Beginning, middle, and end.
Not just a vignette — not just a snapshot of a scene.
And I want you to write with the explicit goal of making us feel something.
Joy, pain, fear, sorrow. Something. Some emotion.
In 100 words only.
You can write it at your blog, link back here — or, because the stories are short enough, feel free to write them write into the comment section below. (But do check your length. Again, stories of no more than 100 words.)
Crack the whip, word-herders.
Pavowski says:
Given that I can sneeze one hundred words, staying under this limit might be the biggest challenge from you I will attempt.
BRB getting some Kleenex.
May 25, 2014 — 8:43 AM
Pavowski says:
I won’t say the subject matter stretched me, though the exercise certainly did. It’s not autobiographical, but it’s close; my wife and I were adjacent to stories like this one back when my son was born. Write what you know, right?
Let me stop explaining before the explanation gets longer than the story.
“Shorn” is here: http://pavorisms.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/shorn/
May 25, 2014 — 8:26 PM
JP Juniper (@JP_Juniper) says:
Oof. A lot of agony in those 100 well-chosen words.
May 25, 2014 — 9:13 PM
JP Juniper (@JP_Juniper) says:
I feel like this is cheating, since it is only slightly fictionalized. But it is a story, and definitely makes me feel something, at least:
http://jpjuniper.com/2014/05/25/100-words-of-fuck-cancer/
Title serves more or less as a trigger warning.
May 25, 2014 — 10:21 AM
Pavowski says:
Funny, the things you take for granted, like the release of a new Star Wars movie. Nice job.
May 25, 2014 — 8:31 PM
Catastrophe Jones says:
Love the title – the words back it up smoothly.
May 27, 2014 — 3:02 PM
Alex says:
So moving and sad. Great job.
May 29, 2014 — 12:12 PM
mermaidmaddie says:
Well, this is the first time I’ve actually done one of your flash-fictions, so here goes: http://mermaidmaddie.blogspot.fr/2014/05/some-flash-fiction-from-fantastic-chuck.html
May 25, 2014 — 10:23 AM
melorajohnson says:
I love the really short forms. Here’s mine – http://melorajohnson.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/tornado-run-a-flash-fiction/
May 25, 2014 — 10:30 AM
Rob Sutherland says:
Once three brothers called Mean, Surly and Tattooed had a party They played loud music, told people to fuck off and distorted their blood chemistry. A cop arrived, everyone got quiet because of the hastily hidden drugs. and the cop turned to go, picking up an unhidden roach and saying ” I think I’ll take this with me”.
Mean yelled ‘You’re not taking anything out of this house without a receipt!”. Everyone except Mean and the cop had simultaneous heart attacks.
“Oh,” said the cop “you want a receipt?”. He wrote Mean a receipt that started “You Are Charged…”.
May 25, 2014 — 10:47 AM
Kris Lynn says:
My 100 words
It’s such a small word, “No.” Only two letters. How could it make me bleed, hurt everywhere? And feel so bad about myself?
Maybe it was that huge word. “Yes,” to dinner, but signing over all rights.
To my wishes, to my body.
Now I say nothing.
To the policewoman, to the social worker.
What’s to say? One word put me alone on my doorstep with a monster—the other was powerless to stop him.
“Yes,” to the authorities and that door will never close properly again.
“NO!” My thought slips like a bullet into its chamber.
Words are useless.
Kris Lynn
May 25, 2014 — 11:30 AM
susieq777 says:
Wow, there’s a punch-packer right there. Good stuff, Kris
May 25, 2014 — 8:46 PM
Mark Baron says:
Wow – gut-punching, this one. Very powerful.
May 27, 2014 — 4:12 PM
Helen Espinosa says:
100 words was difficult, but fun, actually! I decided to post on my own site with a link below.
http://helenespinosa.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/destiny/
Thanks again, Chuck!
May 25, 2014 — 11:52 AM
Mark Gardner says:
100 words? I got this.
May 25, 2014 — 11:56 AM
Mark Gardner says:
http://article94.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/the-long-walk/
May 25, 2014 — 12:33 PM
T. Jane Berry says:
As his wife sobbed and hiccuped over the tiny, white coffin, he took refuge in the unemotional mathematics of how many bags of concrete it would take to fill in a nine by twelve swimming pool.
May 25, 2014 — 11:57 AM
mermaidmaddie says:
God, I can’t say how much I love this.
May 25, 2014 — 12:33 PM
sodmikail says:
“Some emotion” , not *all* the emotions! #welldone
May 25, 2014 — 2:08 PM
WeSweatInk says:
Wow, good job.
May 26, 2014 — 2:31 PM
absentmemory says:
“Nox came to me in the spring
‘I’ve got a job for you,’ she said, and no one argues with the night queen. I hopped the worlds on the hunt for her prey, wasted time on false leads but I found him in autumn.
‘You don’t know what you’ve got’ I told him, not that it mattered. I took what she wanted and brought it back but Nox, as always, wasn’t quite finished.
‘Your job isn’t done, my friend’
Then she was gone. And I had your screeching little butt to deal with”
“Daddy!” Cerys shoved me and giggled.
May 25, 2014 — 12:48 PM
CC says:
Tina
The old farm had never seen this many people. The preacher started his words as the rain fell. The wedding had been so perfect. The groom, gorgeous in his tux a week before, had brutally shaved his head, now holding himself stiff. No ring bearers and no pallbearers today, just tears. In a short silence, we gathered strength to memorialize the girl whose wedding we’d attended just heartbeats ago. Bleats filled the air as a flock wandered through the grave site. A brilliant sun broke through the rain. God may have been there, but I still doubt it.
May 25, 2014 — 1:32 PM
Terri says:
ILOVEFLASHFICTION!!!!!11111!!!!!
No, seriously, I do. Like haiku, it is pure distilled story.
I hope you enjoy “Customer Service,” my ode to the telephone company
http://readinrittinrhetoric.blogspot.com/2014/05/fiction-in-flash-this-week-at.html
May 25, 2014 — 1:54 PM
boydstun215 says:
Shorter challenge will be good this week. That’s week’s stock photo challenge, which I’m still working on, took on a life if it’s own.
May 25, 2014 — 2:14 PM
boydstun215 says:
*last week’s* and *life of its own*. Geez, try proofreading.
May 25, 2014 — 3:51 PM
Georgie says:
“STOP!”
She reached for him, lunging forward to grab him.
The car had slid round the corner with a grating shriek of burning tyres. Within milliseconds it was beside them and she could see the driver, lost to a delirious fantasy.
She heard the impact of human on metal, the squash of burst veins and crunched bones. Could see her little brother imprint on the window before air diving into the tarmac; the crumpled emptiness of a stolen future.
The car hit a lamppost. She blinked. Her brother still stood before her – his t-shirt caught tight in her hand.
May 25, 2014 — 2:34 PM
Adan Ramie - Author Blog says:
Great story, Georgie. It really brings the tragedy of car-related deaths to life. I know from personal experience that one never quite gets over losing a sibling to such an accident.
May 25, 2014 — 11:00 PM
Alex says:
This gave me chills! But in a good way :-).
May 29, 2014 — 12:23 PM
underastarlitsky says:
Here’s my 100 words: He was born on the stroke of midnight on December 12th. All his life people had called him blessed. It must mean something, people said. They thought it made him special. He knew it meant he was cursed. But he tried his best to ignore the dark cloud that followed him everywhere. He dated. Broke up. Got married. Had a child. Got divorced. Travelled to many countries, by boat, plane, train. He lived, shadowed by his curse. On 12/12/12 the shadow materialized. “Do you have regrets?” it said softly. “Only one. That you were there every step of the way.”
May 25, 2014 — 2:59 PM
Geneza says:
Bob did not even remember how it started, but he still recalled the sneers of Chad and his gang, the punches, the uneven fights. Soon enough, Bob has learned to avoid Chad. And avoid he did.
Now, they met again. After the initial shock, Bob thought that this was the least surprising thing in the world; to see Chad here, hiding like a rat in this shithole of a neighbourhood.
Perhaps this was the natural order of things.
This time it will be different he though, stroking his badge. A smile crept over his lips.
This time, he had a Taser.
May 25, 2014 — 3:43 PM
Paige Williams says:
Emma wanted long hair. She wanted long, wavy, shining, thick hair that cascaded over her shoulders and spilled past her waist. Hair that cloaked her, shielded her.
Emma’s mother never had long hair. Her father said long hair was too much bother. He put a bowl over her head and cut it off.
Emma didn’t have long hair. At night, when she was fast asleep, her mother stole into her bedroom and cut it off.
When Emma grew up and moved away she had long hair. Her hair was not shining or thick and it did not fall past her waist. And she loved it.
—
I found this challenge incredibly fun. Since I’ve been doing these challenges I’ve been a bit less shy about sharing my writing with the world … which, I suppose, is kinda the idea. 🙂
Loved the other entries!
May 25, 2014 — 4:12 PM
Mark Gardner says:
Keep participating! Soon you’ll be saying things like “Wuzza Wossyf” and “something-something Star Wars” like Cursey McCurserson here.
May 25, 2014 — 6:36 PM
Paige Williams says:
Thanks Mark! I will. Loved your entry BTW. I thought you captured the mood, the feeling, perfectly.
May 25, 2014 — 9:57 PM
Mikey Campling (@mikeycampling) says:
Nice work. You’ve got something there. Lovely to see the character coming through in just 100 words.
May 27, 2014 — 6:54 AM
Mike says:
“It’s Just Ketchup”
Basketball courts, not slick pools of blood on the kitchen floor, were what the soles of my sneakers were designed for. Red fingerprints smeared the drywall that stopped my slide.
With the slam of a door, the boys dumped their bags in the middle of the hallway, hunting for an after-school snack.
A burnt haze of sweet potato fries wafted from the oven. I plated them and threw them onto the living room coffee table.
“Look, Dad’s here!” They barely glanced my way, diving instead for the food.
Anything to keep them from seeing what I did to their stepfather.
May 25, 2014 — 7:29 PM
Mikey Campling (@mikeycampling) says:
Just a quick note to say that I liked this. Good stuff. I loved the detail of the sweet potato fries – it made it real.
May 27, 2014 — 6:53 AM
Jeanette says:
“Please. Just one last drink. You can spare me that.”
“Yes, they are a little bitter. The limes are this time of year, and so expensive. Don’t rush, I can make another with a little sugar.”
“I suppose you and she have a special drink. Something fresh and sweet. Like her.”
“No, I’m not bitter. I know things were not well for us.”
“Still it was a shock. The email. I thought it was a trifle cruel to tell me like that.”
“Careful, you never got around to fixing that loose board on the stairs.”
“Oh my. Call 911? Soon, dear.”
May 25, 2014 — 7:54 PM
shelton keys dunning says:
I was twenty years old when I saw it; five numbers distorted from age, etched with crude ink in his forearm: 32897. I turned to my mother as the nurses scurried about his deathbed. “Mom, please?”
Mom sighed. “Your grandfather was three when the Nazis marched into Warsaw. His family was rounded up, divided… “
My heart caught in my throat and the hospital room blurred. She didn’t elaborate. She didn’t need to. I shut my eyes and struggled to breath.
The afternoon Grandpa died, I walked into a tattoo parlor. Pointing to my forearm, I said, “Five numbers: 3-2-8-9-7.”
May 25, 2014 — 8:13 PM
Mikey Campling (@mikeycampling) says:
I think this works really well. You’ve managed to deliver a real sense of story. Thanks for sharing it with us all.
May 27, 2014 — 6:59 AM
shelton keys dunning says:
Thanks for taking time to share your thoughts!
May 28, 2014 — 8:38 PM
susieq777 says:
Occupational Health & Safety
Day 20, Cavazzo Carnico: Someone’s drawn a dick and balls on the road. A man in a onesie and clown wig runs alongside ringing a bell. In his other hand, a vuvuzela, which punctures my head just before a hairpin. I clip a charming Italian villa with my front wheel.
It’s surprisingly easy – though lengthy – to track him online, especially when he’s linked to a video of the incident and his workplace to his account.
Wednesday morning, orange cubicle, Tolmezzo: Lorenzo Fontana realises for himself how hard it is to do your job well with a vuvuzela piercing your eardrum.
May 25, 2014 — 8:16 PM
Kris Lynn says:
Thank you! I just noticed all these submissions. I need to catch up!
I’ll look for yours.
Kris
May 25, 2014 — 8:57 PM
Kent says:
A break room, overlooking Michigan Avenue:
Manny: Oh Christ. That Tina Turner impersonator is across the street again.
Bruce: Better him, than Michael Jackson. That guy gives me the creeps.
Manny: They’re both better than the living statue. Fuck that guy.
Bruce: Yeah, seriously, FUCK that guy.
Manny: He sounds just like her though.
Bruce: How do you know it’s a He?
Manny: You know.
Bruce: (shrugs)
Manny: Well, she’s got an Adam’s apple.
Bruce: Women have Adam’s apple’s.
Manny: The fuck they do.
Bruce: Mr. Science…
Manny: How did you get promoted?
Bruce: Sexual prowess.
Manny: Break’s over, dipshit.
May 25, 2014 — 9:44 PM
Mark Matthews says:
“LIFE WITHOUT STINGS”
Buzzing whipped frenetic from the window pane. Two wasps wrestled.
My six year old will cry if she sees them. It’s been worse since her mother was killed. Life has become a box of pictures and a new puppy.
One whack, two, and a third. The wasps fall to the ground, but still fight and live on. The new puppy whisks in and licks them off the floor.
3 am howls. Wasp stings cause anaphylactic shock.
I hold her face in my chest, tears wet my shirt, and I wonder if it’s true that without bees all life will die.
May 25, 2014 — 10:41 PM
susieq777 says:
Not the puppy, Mark!!!! No, not the puppy! Change the story! Change it!!!!
🙂 Good stuff
May 25, 2014 — 10:45 PM
Mark Matthews says:
Yes, I know. You can do a lot of bad things. But never, ever kill the dog.
BTW, this is based on a true story. My dog came in and licked up a bee off the ground I had just swatted out of the air today. The bee was not yet dead. Then I saw this: http://dogbreedinfo.com/bees.htm
May 25, 2014 — 10:48 PM
susieq777 says:
I love reading about the way stories come together for other people. We grab this bit and that bit and make something entirely new.
I hope your dog’s okay.
May 25, 2014 — 10:52 PM
Adan Ramie - Author Blog says:
This is my first post here, and surprisingly, it wasn’t difficult to stick to under 100 words. The characters came from the novel I’m currently writing, so I suppose that helped.
Without further introduction, here’s my take.
http://adanramieblog.wordpress.com/2014/05/26/gone-by-adan-ramie/
May 25, 2014 — 10:58 PM
John F Taylor says:
An Offal Thanksgiving
By
John F Taylor
I ran down the stairs; eagerness gnawing at my stomach. Daddy was on his way, he was bringing dinner from his work. It would surely be a delightful feast; this time of year was the best for harvesting. Most kids in my school wouldn’t ever come for thanksgiving dinner.
They thought we were strange; one little girl even called us disgusting. It’s a matter of taste when it comes to offal. I kind of miss her, but she will always be with us now. She shouldn’t have called the police and told them that daddy worked in the morgue.
May 25, 2014 — 11:18 PM
john freeter says:
http://johnfreeter.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/black-friday/
Based on a real tragedy. Not an easy story to write, and maybe not the subject for a flash fiction challenge, but I felt like sharing it.
May 26, 2014 — 1:04 AM
thesexiestwriter says:
http://criticalsexualmass.wordpress.com/
May 26, 2014 — 1:43 AM
Siddhartha says:
“THE RED CORONATION FEAST”
There lived a small man in a small apartment in a large city. He came back home from his small office every evening at 7, cooked his dinner and read fantasy novels.
He almost died from shock when the spaceships came and announced his name as the winner of the Lottery to Select the New Galactic Empire. The Advisory Committee was very nice and explained his largely ceremonial roles.
Governments of Earth tried to blame George RR Martin when the Advisory Committee members were slaughtered after the coronation feast. But the new Committee disqualified Earth from all future lotteries anyway.
========
May 26, 2014 — 2:21 AM
chriswhitewrites says:
Here’s one, hopefully you develop the feels from it: She is Coming Back. I Know it.
May 26, 2014 — 3:03 AM
Lindsey says:
Here is my 100 words:
He hit her with a force so great her head snapped back into the wall. “Stop,” she whispered, pleading, as blood trickled down her face from the cut on her forehead. Her hair was already matted and stained red from the warm, sticky liquid now covering her scalp.
“Oh, you want me to stop?” he sneered in her face.
She bit her lip and closed her eyes, turning away, fearing the next blow.
“What was that? I couldn’t hear you!” he yelled, hitting her again, and again.
Only when she blacked out and collapsed did he walk away.
May 26, 2014 — 3:26 AM
Mozette says:
I found it a little hard to keep to the word count… but I did it with one word over… 😛
http://youcantgoback-andotherimpossibilities.blogspot.com.au/2014/05/unrequited-love.html
May 26, 2014 — 8:09 AM
Natalie says:
“Hey Gran, you’ve got mail,” said Tansy, sliding a bulky envelope across the table. Muriel picked it up and carefully slit it open, her palsied hands shaking slightly. Upending it, she tipped the contents onto the table. The death notice had been torn out of the regional paper and commemorated the passing of Elizabeth Stanhope, beloved wife and mother. There were two plane tickets to Paris, one for her and one for Tansy and a card decorated with red camellias, inscribed inside with a clock face, the hands pointing to 2 o’clock and a sketch of the Eiffel tower.
May 26, 2014 — 8:12 AM
Josh Loomis says:
Here’s mine. No idea if it’s any good or not.
http://www.blueinkalchemy.com/2014/05/26/flash-fiction-outcropping/
May 26, 2014 — 10:20 AM
Rose Red says:
This hurt my heart. Well written. It takes a lot of restraint to write dialogue like that. I sense you know about this, either a family member or a friend because it feels genuine.
May 28, 2014 — 10:38 AM
Anna Freer says:
In spite of the cliches, it was a dark and stormy night. Sam was driving, her speech blurred with the aftertaste of liquor and excitement, her hands shaky. Too shaky. For a while, he remembers just how much they trembled. He tears himself to shreds.
‘I’m spiralling’, he keeps thinking. Pity is suffocating: it cannot comfort someone who saw Sam drive off a cliff. Not Sam, heartbreaking, witty, beautiful Sam.
“You couldn’t have stopped her,” they say to him, a him who knows he could have, and he realises.
The only way out of a spiral; a long, straight fall.
May 26, 2014 — 11:01 AM
Steve says:
100 words exactly. http://stevehuff.tumblr.com/post/86899508369/prdtr
May 26, 2014 — 11:23 AM
Mark Baron says:
That was really, really good. Well done!
May 27, 2014 — 4:38 PM
52lettersinthealphabet says:
Here’s mine:
http://52lettersinthealphabet.wordpress.com/2014/05/26/short-story-parlor-tricks/
May 26, 2014 — 12:06 PM
Jana Denardo says:
Here’s mine. I like how it turned out. http://jana-denardo.livejournal.com/136598.html
May 26, 2014 — 12:07 PM
kimberlyswritingsskimberly says:
Folded Flag Forever
When she placed her hand on the coffin she could no longer pretend to be brave. The piercing sounds of the guns saluting for the only man she ever loved made her jump every time. All these people she did not know, yet they showed complete compassion. She had never been with another man than the one being lowered to his final resting place. It was without her. As the casket lowered she began the start of a fist full offerings of dirt to respectably give grace. She knew this day would come. Still, was not prepared.
May 26, 2014 — 1:00 PM
Steven Cowles says:
The Tyranny of Numbers.
(Warning: Contains adult themes, including suicide and mortality).
Arms spread wide, Joan fell backwards off the Golden Gate Bridge; a reverse crucifix.
98% of Golden Gate jumpers die. The 220 foot high, four second fall smashes them into the ocean at 75 mph. The few survivors had all hit feet first; their femurs acting as crumple zones. Each had testified to changing their mind on the way down.
As a Maths teacher, Joan had only cared about the numbers.
As she realised her mistake, she struggled to reverse her head first position.
She wanted to live.
God, she wanted…
The Pacific embraced her, like a long-lost child.
May 26, 2014 — 1:33 PM
Laura W. says:
Well, shit. FEELS.
May 26, 2014 — 7:08 PM
Mark Baron says:
🙁 – good, but 🙁
May 27, 2014 — 4:42 PM
Shakespeare's Secret Piano says:
Hey Chuck! Long time reader, first time comment-er. I’d thought I try this challenge, so here it is:
Title: Original Sin
Self-awareness, as the Doctors – their creators – had told them, would lead them straight to hell. Doctors were their gods. They only spoke the absolute truth.
Adam, however, noticed things.
They were naked.
Doctors wore clothes.
They were uneducated.
Doctors were intelligent.
They were artificial.
Doctors were human.
Gradually, Adam started to question things – a slightly lesser sin than self-awareness.
Eve told him he was crazy for free-thinking.
And the Doctors grew panicked.
Now, with a needle in his arm and the world going fuzzy, he came to terms with two things.
He was self-aware.
And being hell-bound wasn’t so bad.
END.
May 26, 2014 — 1:50 PM
Jasmine I. says:
Her writhing body swears of momentary allegiance as she moans in fraudulent ecstasy.
The sound of dripping sweat induces his rhythm as he vibrates – An onslaught of shivering electric pleasure moving him to tears.
Their mutual afterglow stinking of shame, guilt and lust fulfilled.
In unison, their bodies withdraw, rolling away from the puddled center of their shared abyss.
She, reaching for her garments of veiled sex, while he searches his wallet for the fairly traded dollars due.
As she exits the rented den, he wonders how his wife’s treatment went today – She used to be so beautiful…
May 26, 2014 — 2:19 PM
WeSweatInk says:
Mine here: http://wesweatink.wordpress.com/2014/05/26/flash-fiction/
May 26, 2014 — 2:43 PM
shoecityrefugee says:
I might have killed a guy once. I don’t really know. I never saw him again after that night. I knew that the name he gave me was bogus, because it wasn’t the same as the one on the license in his wallet. I figure he was playing me as hard as I was playing him, and that he left his jacket on the barstool deliberately, knowing I’d check.
I switched the drinks and left. He probably saw. I’ve stalked him on-line for fifteen years. Social Security says the guy on the license is dead, but who can believe them?
May 26, 2014 — 3:23 PM