Sarah Potter Writes

Pursued by the Muses of prose, poetry, and music.

Archive for the tag “100 word stories”

Friday Fictioneers — Unholy Epitaph

Genre: Dark humor
Word Count: 100

~~UNHOLY EPITAPH~~

hic iacet sepultus

DOMINIC SEAMUS HEGGARTY
a gardener who loved Nature minus Man.

Born in Islington, June 13th 1836
Died December 27th 1891

Bastard son of Michael de Humpe, VIIIth Earl of Stitchbury
 who cavorted with Molly Frimble, an unfortunate, and contracted the French disease and died most horribly of raging insanity,
thereby bestowing upon his beloved illegitimate son nothing of note other than an unconsecrated burial plot at the far end of his Estate,
for when his own time of passing came, alongside Molly,
dispatched to the afterlife by Lady Stitchbury in a fit of apoplexy.

requiescant in pace

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Friday Fictioneers: 100 word stories
Photo Prompt: copyright © Liz Young

 

Friday Fictioneers — Him with the Dog collar

Genre: Humour
Word count: 100

~~HIM WITH THE DOG COLLAR~~

Susanna thought her husband, the Reverend, the worst public speaker in the universe. Whenever he climbed into the pulpit, he underwent a personality change: those unfunny anecdotes, the sepulchral voice, and the platitudes.

To cure her boredom, Susanna thought not of God but of shoes. Even vicars’ wives like to dream about shoes, especially in Lent when temptation expands in proportion to self-denial. Sometimes her frustration spilled over into an angry confession, and the Reverend told her, “It’s the Devil who distracts you with shoes, my dear.”

True, she couldn’t wear her sandals anymore due to her feet turning cloven.

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Friday Fictioneers: 100 word stories
Photo Prompt: copyright © Magaly Guerrero

Friday Fictioneers — Threat or Intention?

Genre: Realistic Fiction
Word count: 100

~~THREAT OR INTENTION?~~

Dear B,

This time, you’ve cheesed me off to the point of no return. You’ve stolen a chunk of my life, then upped sticks and left me to clear up the mess.

Well, here’s my plan. I’m going to flatten you, squeeze that last drop of life-blood from your veins, like tomato paste from a tube. For years you’ve treated me as a piece of furniture, an unpaid servant and plaything of no consequence. You promised me the world, but deprived me of the yeast to expand my horizons.

See this marble rolling pin.  

You’re dead.

Amen to that,

M

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Friday Fictioneers: 100 word stories
Photo Prompt: copyright © Dale Rogerson

Friday Fictioneers — A Rare Specimen

For this week’s Friday Fictioneers (photo prompt copyright © Jellico’s Stationhouse) I couldn’t resist adapting another excerpt from my latest, as-yet unpublished novel Counting Magpies.

Those of you who read my earlier excerpt “Snow Baby” will already have met Morag. In today’s piece, she arrives in the unfamiliar city of York in the middle of the night after a journey of 300 kilometers on an antiquated bicycle that decides to self-destruct on a cobbled street outside the home of the centenarian cleric and one-time Dean of York Minster.

Genre: Dystopian speculative fiction
Word Count: 100

A RARE SPECIMEN

I sit there stunned with the bicycle lying beside me.

A man thrusts open a window above me and cries out. “Hell fire! What’s the good Lord delivered to my doorstep? Some up-skelled and paggered lass, by the looks of it.”

I haul myself to my feet and stand there, with my hands on my hips, forgetting about the size of my belly. “Up-skelled and paggered? Are you insulting me?”

“No, I’m observing that you’ve fallen off your bicycle and look all done-in. …Oh, I see it now. It’s so many years since I’ve encountered anyone in the family way.”

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To read other Friday Fictioneers’ stories for this week, or to add a 100-word story of your own, please click on the blue frog below.

Friday Fictioneers — Adrift Alone

Genre: Haibun (Japanese-style poetic prose)
Word count: 100

~~ADRIFT ALONE~~

She sits at the end of the jetty penning a tanka poem to her lost love. Earlier attempts bob about on the seawater inside screwed up balls of paper; they slowly unravel into sodden single sheets with the words sucked out of them.

He sails away,
the figurehead of his boat,
captain of nothing.
In deeps, beyond redemption,
sink the wrecks of human dreams.

He floats becalmed in a rubber dinghy amidst flotsam. The sun beats down on him and cooks his brain, as he composes his epitaph.

Here lies a shark that ate a fool who died alone.

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Photo Prompt: copyright © Fatima Fakier Deria
Friday Fictioneers: 100 word stories

Friday Fictioneers — Measuring Up

Genre: Saucy fiction
Word count: 100

~~MEASURING UP~~

“Gosh, you’re tall!” people keep saying to me. How the hell would they like it, if I came up to them and said, “You’re short”?

At my first school, I was the shortest in the class. Then I swear that Mum put a cake in my lunchbox with similar magical ingredients to the one Alice ate in Wonderland, but without the shrinking antidote.

There’s this cute fellow at university, who calls me “his Amazonian beauty”. His mates tease him about conversing with my breasts.

Oh, they of limited imagination. He’s a mathematician and knows all about how to handle figures.

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Photo Prompt: Jennifer Pendergast
Friday Fictioneers: 100 word stories

  

Friday Fictioneers — A Matter Of Perspective

Genre: General Fiction
Word count: 100

~~A MATTER OF PERSPECTIVE~~

Whenever Seamus espied his ex-wife with that swanky billionaire, his legs gave out at the knees and he suffered an attack of vertigo.

In another life Seamus had been a violinist who played a Stradivarius, but now he dwelt under a railway arch, his home a cardboard box. Daily, he busked on a distressed fiddle. A few people tossed coins in his cap, but most passed him by, treating him as less than a bug.

Today, it dawned on him that bugs had been around a lot longer than humans had, and would probably outlive them all, including his ex-wife.

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Photo Prompt: copyright © Shaktiki Sharma
Friday Fictioneers: 100 word stories

Friday Fictioneers — Ascended

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Genre: Metaphysical Fiction
Word count: 100

ASCENDED

Up above those clouds, way beyond the sun, live a choir of angels. That’s what my brother says anyway.

“Sis, can you hear that heavenly music?” he asks, whenever we’re outdoors, away from unbelievers.

I’ll close my eyes and strain my ears but hear nothing other than cars, planes, and people (plus birds, if I’m lucky).

He’ll say, “Don’t try to shut out the sound. Concentrate on it. Let it wash over you. Then you will hear the angels in the silence beyond the noise.”

I’m so jealous of my brother’s ability. If only I could hear Mum singing, too.

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Photo Prompt: copyright © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Friday Fictioneers: 100 word stories

Friday Fictioneers — Snow Baby

This week I’m going to post my 100-word story for Friday Fictioneers on a Wednesday, which is what many of the other participants do anyway! Many thanks to our wonderful hostess, Rochelle, for using my snow picture as the photo prompt.

My story is an excerpt from my unpublished fifth novel, Counting Magpies, which is presently in the hands of my beta-reader-in-chief. There’s quite a bit of snow in this novel, but I selected this short passage, which works as a standalone, too … I hope.

PHOTO PROMPT © Sarah Potter

Genre: Dystopian speculative fiction

Word count: 100

SNOW BABY

I’m her scapegoat for all that has gone wrong in our world.

When she bled a fortnight ago, after three months of believing herself with child, her wailing and lamenting crushed me. I don’t understand her desperation to make a baby. Until yesterday, I didn’t even know what babies looked like.

She drew a picture of one in the snow and told me that’s how we both started out, with tiny round faces and miniature toes and fingers. “I can’t remember being a baby,” I’d said, to which she’d replied, “Neither can I, but I crave motherhood more than anything.”

Friday Fictioneers — An Assault on Vanity

PHOTO PROMPT © Liz Young

When I saw the photo prompt © Liz Young for this week on Friday Fictioneers, it immediately brought to mind the story that was my first blog post back in December 2011.  The original story was 150 words in length but I’ve pruned it down to 100 words without difficulty and with added punch.

As a footnote to original, I wrote the following…

Author’s note: In my experience the more fantastic the claims for a beauty product, the more expensive and full of dangerous chemicals it is. I believe in organic beauty products, used from head to foot, and a balanced diet of freshly prepared meals.  Combine this with a positive attitude, creativity, and trying to see the funny side of things whenever possible.  Who cares about a few laughter lines and characterful wrinkles?  I don’t fancy looking like a faceless mannequin doll. Do you?

Genre: Science fiction horror

ASSAULT ON VANITY

Cries of terror rocked the city and catapulted Tania into wakefulness.  She fought to focus on her clock, but to no avail. The digits blurred grey and her eyes had the deep ache of a hangover, but she’d not touched a drop of alcohol for days.

In the bathroom, she splashed water at her face but couldn’t feel it contact her skin. Then she looked in the mirror. Apart from her eyes and the skin covering their sockets, her face had metamorphosed into a featureless blank; the work of Dr Hamid’s new wonder cream that claimed to banish wrinkles overnight.

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