Friday Fiction: 100 Word Challenge

Friday Fiction: 100 Word Challenge

Friday Fiction: 100 Word Challenge

A quote: “At what point then is the approach of danger to be expected? I answer, if it ever reach us, it must spring up amongst us. It cannot come from abroad. If destruction be our lot, we must ourselves be its author and finisher. As a nation of freemen, we must live through all time, or die by suicide.” ~~ Abraham Lincoln

I’ll start with a story …


Making breakfast: 20K likes. Commute to work: 8K likes. Tagging an abandoned, outlawed church with her crew: 5.5 million likes.

Nell lived the net, her crew was family.

She touched the band on her forehead to signal a private chat to her crew.

“What’s next, Nell?” Jason’s image floated in her vision. The others appeared, offering suggestions.

A ping from Steven requesting a PM channel. She opened it.

“Nell, let’s do something really different. You, me, no bands.”

“What?! No net?”

“Just for a while, just to see how …” She closed the channel and purged him from the crew.


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

Written by

  • Steffen Crist says:

    Marcus turned the broken icon over with the toe of his boot …….
    “…. just plaster. No gold leaf … or anything of real value.”
    “It’s the idea of what they represent – that’s their value,” I replied.
    Marcus, looking insightful, “They were shouting ‘Where is your god now!'”
    “Yes, Marcus. I heard.”
    “If they come back, shouldn’t we have a patron saint or angel or something”?
    “Sure ….. pick one, Marcus.”
    After a few moments “… I can’t think of one – you pick one!”
    “OK, Marcus, how about Azrael? He wears a hoodie, you’d like him.”
    “OMG! They’re back!”
    “Easy, watch your field of fire……..”

  • Cameron says:

    The men and women stood around the hole where the shattered icons lay. I could see the confusion on their faces; they knew this was a graduation ceremony but they were told nothing. I stepped up.

    “This was the first church bombing,” I said. “Two hundred and three people whose names are on that wall. Don’t delude yourself into thinking we’ve won the war. The enemy is only hunkered down and waiting to strike. We are dedicated to digging them out and killing them in the open. Swear it now: This never happens again.”

    “This never happens again,” they echoed.

  • Navig8r says:

    A quote:

    “Then said he unto them, But now, he that hath a purse, let him take it, and likewise his scrip: and he that hath no sword, let him sell his garment, and buy one.” Luke 22:36 (KJV)

    Grandma and Grandpa lived quiet religious lives in their small cottage. They used to tell me stories of the horrors of the brown shirts, life under Mussolini, and later under the German occupation. Grandma stayed on after Grandpa passed. A visit from the current generation of political thugs put her in the hospital in critical condition and trashed the place with special attention to the statues of the saints she cherished. Cleaning up, I checked under the floorboards in the closet where Grandpa told me. Liberated from a German soldier who no longer needed it, the Schmeisser was still there.

  • Dupin says:

    “The Santos! I must save the Santos!”

    The musket volleys lessened, but the sounds of battle grew fiercer. The cursed heathens were winning. Father Luis gathered the Holy statues and fled out of the mission door where the sounds of fighting seemed the least. He turned to brave the mesquite and cacti when his legs failed and he fell, the precious Santos shattering on the flagstones in front of him. A shadow loomed, his head pulled up, pain as his scalp ripped away.

    The Comanche brave stared at the broken statues a moment before turning. Those gods didn’t save him.

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