Friday Fiction: 100 Word Challenge

Friday Fiction: 100 Word Challenge

Friday Fiction: 100 Word Challenge

Here’s an image to give wing to flights of fiction.

Come and write a story, 100 words, no more, no less, and post in the comments.

I’ll start with a story

Tasting the reed, he adjusted his embouchure and started with a few plaintive notes.

She appeared, quiet as a dissolving dandelion, her costume in stark contrast to the surroundings.

“What are you thinking?” He played.

“I need reactions. Blending in is not going to get results.”

“And artificially producing them will result in valid data?”

She moved her adopted body to his music.

“Everything is valid with these beings. They act surprised with the incongruent, but they also expect it. Stop acting like a First Year.”

He sighed “This body may have wrinkles, but that is exactly what I am.”


Now, your turn.

Written by

  • FRE says:

    Mary walked briskly to her second job of the day. A suddenly chill wind pushed against her lest she forget her difficult life. She increased her effort for she dares not be late. Tardiness could cost her a meal token and she was already starving.
    Mary’s mind in self defense slipped back to a happier time. She remembered her grandfather talking about a time of plenty. A time when families ate together. A time when people could be what they wanted and almost unbelievably, people could sing and dance and play music. All things now forbidden by the communist state.

  • jkumpire says:

    Eees and his seniors considered the data. Time was short, the mission hard. The curious humans made hiding difficult.

    “Timegone. We destroy?” Eees asked.

    “Yes” responded See-Ees, “Vicious, angry. Almost no freedom. Blight on space.”

    “Yes” Tre-Ees added, “follow failures of being organization repeatedly. Unbelieving fools.”

    Qui-Ees rolled her head around. “NO! They live, is hope” posting the image she made on her final trip. “You led to hole by false ‘wise ones’ and ‘leaders’. False, this is them, at Godhome.”

    Eees, ordered ‘play’, the video filling the room.

    When it ended Eees rolled his head. “Hope here. No end.”

  • Andrew says:

    My arrogant roommate used to quote Oscar Wilde: “We all live in the gutter,” he’d say, “but some of us are looking at the stars.” He went to grad school, actually became an astronomer.

    The first pregnancy was hard: extreme nausea, extreme vomiting, hospital visits for dehydration, pain. The little guy was born and someone put him on my wife’s belly. He opened his eyes to look at us. He closed his eyes. He opened his eyes. He closed his eyes. “So you’re the guy who was causing all that trouble,” I told him.

    I saw my astronomer friend weeks later. “What’s so great about the stars,” I said.

  • DC says:


    She appeared out of nowhere. Maybe he just wasn’t paying attention. “Nah, girl. Coltrane.” He began again, the notes moving around, but never locking into the expected melody.

    “I like it. I’m early. Mind if I wait with you?”

    He nodded, without stopping. She started to sit, but decided to stretch instead. After a bit, she got up and left wordlessly.

    The man watched her walk away towards a small studio. Right before she opened the door, he played the opening from Rite of Spring. She looked over her shoulder, smiled, and went in, closing the door behind her.

  • GWB says:

    I love that all of these are full of hope.

  • Frank says:

    America’s pavements, pedestrians, and the stationary, the very young to the very old, the occasional rain, snow, sleet, and perhaps, facial stories of the determined, the indifferent and those in between, are truly a pleasure mixed with bewilderment at times, to observe in any of our cities, large or small. Humanity sometimes presents an infrequent glimpse of a shared moment, to remind us of the artist beauty inherent in all of us, that so few of us feel we can adequately express and our hearts are briefly lifted to lofty heights and most thankful for the gift of life itself.

  • Dave says:

    “Extemporaneous jazz meets ad-libbed ballet.” That’s what her mother named the picture. The picture her husband took.

    It was her mother’s favorite, and hers, too. It made her smile whenever she looked at it, and she looked at it every day.

    As a child she would always dance while her father practiced. Little did she know she was practicing for her very own future.

    That day, her father was “playing for community,” as he called it. That day, she wanted to dance to her father’s music. That day, a stranger happened by and took a picture.

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