Friday Fiction: 100 Word Challenge

Friday Fiction: 100 Word Challenge

Friday Fiction: 100 Word Challenge

Using this image as your inspiration, can you write a story using only 100 words? Post your story in the comments.

Our story:

My hair is soaked with sweat, I can feel it roll down my back and between my breasts. I’m nearly naked but, hell, I lost all sense of modesty months ago. I hit The Wall about 30 minutes ago, my lungs heave, my thighs quiver with exhaustion and my focus has become so narrow …

The finish is closer, I know it …

Did I scream? I think I screamed.

“Honey! You did it!”

I look up at my husband’s smiling face, tears streaming down his cheeks. Then I look down at my tiny new daughter resting on my chest.

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7 Comments
  • Andrew says:

    There’s no place for pride when you’re Speed Walking at the National level. That’s what I told the boyfriend. No matter how much definition, tights reduce wind resistance, ditto the sports bra, even sweat on the bare midriff. I would have won, except for the hair—the crazy spiderweb hair. He said he could never date a bald woman.

    Next year I’m going to win. He would never have married me anyway.

  • Steve Fletcher says:

    She runs toward her dreams as she makes her way home,
    Counting the steps from out of her roam.
    She’s rounding the corner, she’s setting her way,
    She’s counting the steps toward the end of her day

    He waits by the fireside – feet propped on a stool,
    sips down the cider as he waits in the cool,
    of a day almost over and work almost done,
    watching and waiting for her to come home.

    For their separate, and lonely ,and lost on their own
    Pieces and pebbles and parts all alone.
    He sees her shadow on the shade as she comes,
    And cocks his sideways for the end of her run.

    • Steve Fletcher says:

      Sorry, no edit function, so I’ll just post it again. Too many mistakes to ignore.

      She runs toward her dreams as she makes her way home,
      Counting the steps from out of her roam,
      She’s rounding the corner, she’s setting her way,
      She’s counting the steps toward the end of her day.

      He waits by the fireside – feet propped on a stool,
      sips down the cider as he waits in the cool
      of a day almost over and work almost done,
      watching and waiting for her to come home.

      For they’re separate, and lonely, and lost on their own,
      Pieces and pebbles and parts all alone.
      He sees her shadow on the shade as she comes,
      And cocks his head sideways for the end of her run.

  • Skillyboo says:

    Her goal, to refocus her priorities and dreams and this was one. All her energy and effort had been put into this and nothing was going to stop her from finishing. The sports bra had, she felt, been unnecessary because she wanted to show her scars, but modesty wouldn’t allow it. She felt the rub of it against her sweaty chest that no longer bounced with every step as she started to struggle to finish and then she heard him cheering. Her rock. Everything she went through he was there and she couldn’t let him down, no, let us down.

  • GWB says:

    Every day I see her. Every day I manage to get out here, anyway.
    I’ve finally managed to time my run – ok, let’s be honest, my torture – so that I can be behind her.
    I know this park is only part of her route, but I’m going to stay behind her the whole way if it kills me.
    So long as I can view that. That is my inspiration.
    I might only make the 5 minutes she’s moving through the park. Hell, I might not survive.
    But, as long as I go with that in my vision….

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