Friday Fiction: 100 Word Challenge

Friday Fiction: 100 Word Challenge

Friday Fiction: 100 Word Challenge

A quote: “I don’t know where I’m going from here, but I promise it won’t be boring.” ~~ David Bowie

I’ll start with a story …


Sunrise pinked the sky behind her, the ocean slate grey before her. She can taste salt air, happy to be alone.

So many years ago, in a faraway world that no longer exists, she stood on other sands with other people.

And him.

Burning blue sky reflected in the white gold bands they exchanged.

The years had been good. Mostly. Their fierce promises carried them over the rest. He had promised her the ocean that day, promised her each anniversary.

She stoops to cup the sand, mixing it with his ashes and letting the wind dance it away.

Promise kept.


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

Written by

  • Lewis says:

    I sit on the edge of the sandbox, hand trailing in the warm rough sand. I heard them again yesterday at dinner, trying to think of a way to handle poor old mom.

    I look out the street, there’s that old guy again. What the heck does he want? He holds up a basket and jangles a set of keys in his hand. He walks up to the fence, puts his hand on the gate latch, looks right into my tired eyes. “Escape is at hand, Little Bored One!”

    If and when they read my journals, they’ll finally know what they should have done!

  • Cameron says:

    It’s hard to explain to the kids that were born here how emotional we get. This is more than just a beach. This was the border of the land that saved us while the tyrants tried to keep us prisoner.

    Years ago, I knelt down on this very beach as soldiers surrounded me in a protective line. I ignored the bruises and scars from the lashings, scooped up some sand and cried tears of joy.

    The Old Americans learned the hard way to stay away from here. I hope our children realize how precious their freedoms are on this world.

  • Leigh Kimmel says:

    Grandma always said that our lives were like sands through the hourglass of our lives. As a child, I’d found the idea fascinating, and I was a little disappointed to discover later that it came from the opening credits of a soap opera she always watched.

    As I grow older, I can understand the urgency she was trying to impart in that concept. Looking back, I consider just how many minutes, hours and even whole days have slipped through my fingers, rather like the sand I used to play with as a child in Grandma’s backyard, back in the days when no one would’ve blinked twice at the thought of a granddaughter playing in the back yard after school while Grandma watched her soaps.

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