Friday Fiction: 100 Word Challenge

Friday Fiction: 100 Word Challenge

Friday Fiction: 100 Word Challenge

A quote: “The guys who won World War II and that whole generation have disappeared, and now we have a bunch of teenage twits.” ~~ Clint Eastwood

I’ll start with a story …


They don’t use clipboards anymore. I’m old enough to remember the clipboards and now I loathe these tablet jockeys.

You know, the smiling faced, dead-eyed bureaucrat wannabes who show up to your door when you’ve refused to answer the phone or return their emails.

They carry tablets. Correction, they clutch those electronic nannies to their breasts and put on the faux concern – Oh, Mr. Smith, we’ve haven’t heard from you and we’re so worried.

Worried about me setting a bad example by not handing over my “too big” home and accepting their care. Law still on my side. For now.


Now, it’s your turn.
. featured image, cropped, Adobe Stock standard license.

Written by

  • Cameron says:

    The exterior of the house looked rough but that was all. The lawyer kindly walked me through and showed off all the improvements.

    “I don’t get it,” I said, finally giving voice to what I’d been thinking since the will reading. “Why me?”

    The man shrugged. “He decided you’d be the best to own-”

    “You don’t understand. My grandfather and I were not on good terms Ever. So why leave me this house unless it’s out of spite?”

    “Quite simple, really. You’re the only grandchild who didn’t kiss his ass while growing up, hoping that he’d leave a fortune behind.”

  • Dupin says:

    I always liked the house and that swing. Grandma sat on it a lot…Grandpa on the rocker. Bell called us to supper from wherever we roamed.

    I got booboos kissed there, got to third base there, come to think of it. Went to the woods for the rest…poison ivy rash everywhere, but it was worth it.

    Later, Mom would be sitting there whenever we arrived with the kids. Always a good time when we were there.

    I pulled the For Sale sign and a hammer out of the back of the car, and drove it into the ground. Times change.

  • Navig8r says:

    “Hi, George. Whatcha up to?”

    “Hello. Gathering wool. Did you know I proposed to Miriam on that swing? With her whole family peeking out around the curtains?”

    “You never let us forget that story.”

    “57 years and now she’s gone. I so miss her.”

    “I know.”

    “Glad you became a doctor. I’m feeling a little peeked. What do you think it is?”

    “Ectoplasmic deterioration is the best diagnosis I can manage.”

    “What on earth is that?”

    “She kept your memory alive as long as she lived, but you died fifteen years ago. It’s time for you to move on too.”

  • Leigh Kimmel says:

    Cather would always have fond memories of visits to Grandma and Grandpa Hargreaves. They were more frequent when he was little and still lived on the Mitten, so the trip to the UP was an afternoon’s drive, but the ones that really stuck with him were from after his dad took the job with North American Aviation and moved the family to Downey, California. After days cooped up in the car, or the hectic shuffle of airports and airplanes, it was always great to drive up to that big old farmhouse and run across the yard to the porch.

    Summer trips were especially fun because he could sit on the big porch swing and sip fresh lemonade while Grandpa told him stories. Grandpa had been in the War — not the Vietnam War which had ended just before Cather had been born, and not the Energy Wars which had loomed over Cather’s teens, but the big one, World War II. Grandpa had hit the beach on islands all over the Pacific, fought his way through jungles as thick as any in Nam, and finally spent six months with the occupation forces in a little town nobody but an otaku would know about.

  • Lewis says:

    It was child abuse, I learned all about it as I grew. Everyone in that family was in on it, every damn one of them. “Just sit on the porch swing, I’ll bring you some ice.”

    Auntie Rae came out the front door, “Whatcha doin’ with all them bags of ice?”

    “Today’s my birthday, Rae,18 years and on my own!”

    “With bags of ice?”

    “Yep, wadda ya-all think I been doing at the gym these last years? You’ll need to take turns on the porch swing, but there’ll be enough ice to go round! Don’t go away. Where’s Uncle Joe?”

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