100 Word Story - The Music Collection (Repost from Facebook, 3 October 2009)

His Collection, though impressively sized, was effortlessly collected. Causing a plane crash in adverse weather brought his single-biggest haul. His next specimen was a case of patience over effort. The reckless gun-play could have figured more prominently, but waiting for fried banana sandwiches to do their damage took all the legwork out of it. He gathered most cases by simply waiting for those fatal partners “Depression” and “Drugs” or “Alcohol” to take their toll. He thought his latest specimen was going to be toughest of all. Alas, a lifetime of eccentricity and a skoche of greed played together nicely.

This was on the prompt of "A Full Set", from Weekly Challenge #175, for the week of 8/29/2009.

For any who aren't sure what I was going for, it is an abstract description of some other-worldly, superhuman being who "collects" famous, legendary musicians from Earth, who we just see as dying unexpectedly. The story climaxes at the end with a description of Michael Jackson joining his collection. It was my first attempt, and was probably overly heavy-handed and awkward.

100 Word Story - Peas in a Pod (Repost from Facebook, 3 October 2009)

Penelope and her sisters were roused from their sleep by the golden-green light filtering through their pod wall.
“M-morr-ning,” she yawned. She got the usual grumbles and murmurs in reply. The others didn’t like mornings as much as Penelope.
As the familiar sounds of machinery starting up for the day reached them, they heard the giants moving through the rows of pod plants around them, and shadows crisscrossed their view.
Something wasn’t right, though; suddenly, she remembered: “It’s Harvest Day!” she screamed. A hand’s shadow slid over the pod, blocking the light, and their pod was torn from its stem.

This was my second effort, written for Weekly Challenge #177 on the prompt of "Peas in a Pod", for the week of 9/12/2009. It was a pseudo-literal tale of anthropomorphic peas in their pods, about to be harvested by the farmers. I liked the way I was able to maintain some level of ambiguity and parallels with sci-fi/Matrix-style stories.

100 Word Story - A Magic Toaster...Relatively Speaking (Repost from Facebook, 3 October 2009)

“Whose turn is to load the toaster?”
“Mine,” chirped Emma.
Mom handed Emma the slices of bread, which she carefully loaded into the slots. “I hope it’s Eggs ‘Bunny-Duck’ today,” wished Emma, not quite wrapping her tongue around ‘Benedict’.
“No,” interjected Alex, “it’s gonna be chocolate cake!” He always hoped the toaster would return chocolate cake.
“We’ll see in 2 minutes,” Mom sang cheerfully.
The bell dinged, and the children squealed. Mom opened the toaster door, and pulled out … 4 slices of unevenly toasted bread.
“I think the toaster’s … like, magic, or something. It somehow cooked our bread.”

This was written on the twin prompts of "Who knows?" & "Magic Toaster", for Weekly Challenge #179, for the week of 9/26/2009.

100 Word Story - Worth the Price (Repost from Facebook) 3 October 2009)

The pain was indescribably excruciating. She passed out at least four times during the first seven-hour session, but lost count after that. By the end, she thought she was going to die, but she didn’t. This wasn’t Tabitha’s first tattoo by any stretch, but it was her first enchanted tattoo, and thus, her most complex, expensive and painful, one by far. After thirteen tortuous sessions, it was done. Full-sized angel wings sprawled across her back. And when the moonlight kissed the ink, all the pain was forgotten as she flexed her feathery new outgrowths and took flight.

This is my entry for this week (10/3/2009), Weekly Challenge #180, "Wings".

100 Word Story - Forty (Repost from Facebook, 9 October 2009)

“Today’s forecast calls for unseasonably wintry weather, with a chance of freezing rain before sunrise and after sunset, mostly cloudy all day, with a high of 40.”
“Thanks for the reminder.”
-
“Ma’am, Do you know how fast you were going?”
“No.”
“You were doing 40 in a 20. I can’t ignore that.”
“Yes, Officer…I’m sorry.”
“I’m still gonna write the ticket, ma’am.”
She sighed.
-
“That was some cut. How’d it happen?”
“I dropped a vase and missed; I cut my hand and foot on the glass.”
“Well, you’ll be fine, now. Forty stitches, though.”
“Thanks.”

Some birthday. Guess which one?


This was my entry for the 100 Word Story Podcast Weekly Challenge #181 - "Forty"

100 Word Story - Triple Crush (Repost from Facebook, 18 October 2009)

Bad just got worse. I was already working on a Friday night; then I had to serve my crush’s group date.
“Here’s your Pepsi, Sierra Mist and Crush. Your pizzas are almost done.” Gina was giggling with a friend; the jock, ‘Lance’ according to his letterman’s jacket, had his arm around her.
“Thanks… ’Spencer’,” he smirked, pointedly reading my name tag.
Gina caught my glance, and smiled. I blushed, started walking away, and tripped over Lance’s outstretched foot.
As I stood, their laughs and whoops stung my ears; I saw Gina, laughing as hard as anyone; my soul was crushed.

This was my entry for Weekly Challenge #182 - "Crush" (Week Ending 10/16/2009).

100 Word Story - An Uneasy Peace (Repost from Facebook, 22 October 2009)

The war began instantly. The fighting had been intense, the losses devastating. Across the battlefield, amongst the mangled weaponry and war machines, lay the bloody, dismembered corpses of the lucky, the maimed, moaning bodies of the unlucky, and the scattered pieces of the rest.
The aggressor was merciless. He ordered maneuvers without regard for his own casualties, only how much it would destroy his enemy. It was a carnal blood-lust.
Suddenly, the commander instantly ceased his rampage with as little warning as he had begun.
“Matthew, dinner!” the young warlord’s father called.
“Yes! Spaghetti!”
This peace would only be temporary.

This was my entry for the Weekly Challenge #183 - "Peace" (Week Ending 10/24/2009).

100 Word Stories - I Hate Halloween, Version 2* (Repost from Facebook, 30 October 2009)

Every high schooler has their after-school job to earn money. I’m a little different. Mine’s before school. I’m a paperboy. Every day, 365 days a year, I’m up at O-Dark-Thirty in the morning, treading the dark and lonely streets. I don’t mind the hours or the back-breaking weight of Sunday editions: I’m a Zombie. Things like that don’t bother loathsome undead like me. That’s right: I’m a Teenage Zombie Paperboy. Do you know what sucks most about being a Teenage Zombie Paperboy? Halloween. Do you know how often I’ve been stopped by police for Trick-or-Treating too late on November 1st?

This was written for Weekly Challenge #184 from the 100 Word Stories Podcast. I ended up having two similar, but slightly different stories come out, so I wrote and submitted both.

*Again, I actually love Halloween. This was just the title.

100 Word Stories - I Hate Halloween, Version 1* (Repost from Facebook, 30 October 2009)

It’s the same nonsense every year. And it goes for almost two weeks. It’s not the Trick-or-Treating or the costumes, or any of that. No - what I hate are the lame jokes. I hear the same ones every year. You see, I’m a Zombie. The townsfolk are well-past their pitchfork fetishes, and the rest of the year it’s fine. But every year, from about October 24th, until around November 7th, it’s “Aren’t you a little early?” “Weren’t you a Zombie last year?” “Trick-or-Treating’s over, son.” Next year, I’m going to eat anyone who asks me something stupid. There’s your “Trick-or-Treat.”

This was written for Weekly Challenge #184 from the 100 Word Stories Podcast. I ended up having two similar, but slightly different stories come out, so I wrote and submitted both.

*I actually love Halloween. This was just the title.

100 Word Stories - Family Legacy (Repost from Facebook, 6 November 2009)

You mightn’t not believe me now, but we once had the biggest pile o’ money you even done seen. We was the richest family fer six hollers. But now I’ve spent almost all of it tryin’ to figger out my Grand-Pappy’s secret. Y’see, Grand-Pappy brewed him up some special moonshine during the Dry Spell. Folks cottoned to it real powerful-like. Purty soon, he was sellin’ it as quick as he made it. Pa started helpin’ him after he got blinded off’n a bad batch from over the next county. Then he up n’ died without tellin’ us his mystery ingredient.

This was in response to the prompt of "Mystery Ingredient" from the 100 Word Podcast Weekly Challenge #185 (Week Ending 11/7/2009).

100 Word Stories - Oliver vs. The Interloper (Repost from Facebook, 14 November 2009)

Oliver tore into the interloper with abandon. “Rrrr … Unh …. Rrrrrr-rah! That’ll show you!” The interloper stopped resisting, and lay limp and lifeless under Oliver’s grip. Just then, the front door opened. Oliver froze as Trish and Jay walked in on an interesting scene: their Beagle sitting amongst a blizzard of cotton batting swirling around him, with Trish’s favorite Teddy Bear pinned under his paws, the stuffing knocked out of it.
“Oliver! No! Bad boy!”
Oliver slowly released the plush rag. He sat up, his tail curled around his butt and his head dipped submissively.
“I’m sorry,” he whimpered.


This was in response to the prompt of "Stuffing" for Weekly Challenge #186 (week ending 11/14/09) for the 100 Word Stories weekly podcast. It was the first of three I wrote on this topic. My mind had gone in several directions, and I knew that the possibilities were wide open. So, I asked Trish to give me a topic/genre/idea to go with, and she said "stuffed animals."

100 Word Stories - Bus Wash (Repost from Facebook, 14 November 2009)

While driving my bus through the scrubbers after my route, I kept seeing a fuzzy brown face press against the windows: brush – brush – brush – FACE. Another driver must have found a teddy bear fallen off a lorry’s grill, and tied him there. We see ‘em all the time. I was overcome by sentiment; to their amusement, I slogged through the brushes to free the little guy. I scrubbed him up and poked his stuffing back in. He watched us wash our busses. Then he watched me drive ‘til I retired. Now, Bus Wash sits and watches me watch telly.

This was in response to the prompt of "Stuffing" for Weekly Challenge #186 (week ending 11/14/2009) for the 100 Word Stories weekly podcast. This was the second story I wrote. It was based on and inspired by an e-mail received on a radio "programme" called "Geoff Lloyd's Hometime Show" on Absolute Radio out of London. They had asked for listeners' storied about irrational feelings toward inanimate objects. They had people saying they feel sorry for the last bean in a tin of baked beans or the last piece of bread, getting lonely and missing their friends, and so getting eaten so as not to feel left out. Another listener said that if she drops a single pea on the floor, she drops another one so the first won't get lonely. This story was based on an e-mail from a bus driver who rescued a bear from the bus wash and gave it to his sons. My version was a creative dramatization of the event, and then a fictional variation with the ending.

100 Word Stories - Coco Bunny (Repost from Facebook, 14 November 2009)

We received a mysterious invitation to the Magic Friend Factory. We entered, feeling not entirely unlike Charlie Bucket. We were led through corridors, confused, but curious. In the Friend Picker, our tears were sampled, and a few minutes later, a plush sock-body twin of our late Coco came down a chute. They put it in the Stuffer, and we watched the body fill. They stitched her closed and handed her to us. When we held her, she transformed: no longer a stuffed animal, but an immortal surrogate for our lost friend. There’s a lot of magic in a little stuffing.

This was written in response to the Weekly Challenge #186 - "Stuffing" (week ending 11/14/2009) for the 100 Word Stories weekly podcast. It was the third story I wrote for this prompt, but was the most personal. It was a Fairy Tale rendition of our journey to Build-a-Bear Workshop to make a stuffed animal in tribute to our pet bunny rabbit who died this past spring.

100 Word Stories - Hospitality (Repost from Facebook, 22 November 2009)

In some cultures, it is a terrible insult to your host if you eat all the food on your plate at dinner. It says, “You are a stingy and unwelcoming host.” In other cultures, it is great praise. It says, “You are a generous and gracious host.”
As the honored guest at a ceremony of the Korowai of Papua New Guinea, I do not know which custom they follow. Frankly, I could not care less how much of me they leave on their plates. It is hardly the debate to have with oneself in the broth, amongst the root vegetables.

This was my entry for the prompt of "Hospitality" from the 100 Word Stories Podcast, Weekly Challenge #187 (for Week of 11/29)

100 Word Stories - Free-Fall (Repost from Facebook, 29 November 2009)

Wind whips past his ears, thundering out everything but the snapping of his nylon suit. Pure exhilaration: that’s why he dives. Kyle never tires of the initial thrill of leaping into open air. But that thrill was immediately crushed by an icy horror tearing through him. He had pulled the ripcord, but nothing had happened.
The mental impact of his new reality would be nothing to the physical impact of the ground’s reality, now rushing unnecessary, unwanted detail at his eyes. He whispers a prayer, hoping his being closer to Heaven will help. He grips the emergency cord, and pulls.

This was in response to the prompt of "Impact" from the 100 Word Podcast Weekly Challenge #188 (Week Ending 11/28/2009).

100 Word Stories - Setting a Scene (Repost from Facebook, 6 December 2009)

With the sun’s rising, the chirps and calls of insects, frogs, and birds rise through the forest. Collectively, the dewdrops lend the grass a velvety glow, resolving into tiny diamonds close up. The sunlight mixes with smoke hanging across the meadow; they become solid liquid vapor, and give the shadows crisp 3-dimensional shapes. A doe and fawn wander out of the forest canopy’s cover into the meadow’s openness. The sharp crack of a breaking twig snaps the silence. The doe freezes, ears swiveling and nostrils flaring, alert for the source of the danger, and the fawn bolts instinctively for cover.

This was in response to the prompt of "Smoke" from the 100 Word Podcast Weekly Challenge #189 (Week Ending 12/5/2009).

100 Word Stories - Stream of Consciousness (Repost from Facebook, 16 December 2009)

Let’s see… What’s the Weekly Challenge this week…? Hmm… “Work”… Huh. One of those “broad-strokes” topics. I like those: they don’t shove you in a particular corner. There are so many directions I could go…
…“Hard work”…
…“Yard work”… 
…“Job I hated”…
…“Job I loved”…
…”Old job”…
…”New job”…
You know what? Just give me some direction!
…Wait a minute. This is an easy topic! I could write any story I can think of, and just work the topic in- wait: -“work”- the topic in. That gives me an idea: how many words am I up to? …98, 99, 100!


This was in response to the prompt of "Work" from the 100 Word Podcast Weekly Challenge #190 (Week Ending 12/12/2009). It was meant to reflect my torment of dealing with the topic, and the idea that was inspired by the epiphany illustrated in the story.
*******************
Another one that was mostly about getting through Writer's Block. Again, I think it qualifies as "anything".

100 Word Stories - "Hold Your Tongue" -or- "Overreact Much?" (*advisory* *implied violence and dark theme*) (Repost from Facebook, 21 December 2009)

I re-awoke at the shock, ice-cold water mixing with warm blood and sweat. The pain that knocked me out re-awoke as well. I winced. I fought to open my eyes against the swelling. It was pointless: the light was in my face; everything was shades of black.
“Put your hands through the armholes.”
“Why?”
“So the fire ants can bite you.” – “No? OK. ‘Or else’.” He back-handed me, then squeezed my cheeks, forcing my broken jaw open. I winced again.
“Whaih?”
“Ah – Because…” He slid a forceps between my toothless gums, grabbing my tongue and pulling. “You insulted my hat.”

This was in response to the prompt of "Hat" from the 100 Word Podcast Weekly Challenge #191 (Week Ending 12/19/2009). It's a bit more grim than most of my stories, but I actually found the "plot" of the story a little bit funny, so I couldn't resist. It started out as strictly 3rd person, but then I thought about making myself either the victim or the bad guy, and it just worked.

100 Word Stories - The Perils of a Paper Bag Awaiting Recycling in the Moonlight (Repost from Facebook, 28 December 2009)

Ow! Watch it, buddy! Oh, good gravy. It’s another dumpster diver. Scavenger! It must be a full moon. They like the natural light to rummage by. I wish he’d be more careful; we don’t enjoy the groping, shoving, tearing, and the stick with the nail in the end, you know. My purpose in this life was to help a wino hide his bottle from cops and have him slosh and slobber on me. Now, to have this guy toss me aside for a 2-cent piece of glass or metal is humiliating. I hope I come back as a notebook.

This was in response to the combo-prompt of "a story told from the perspective of an inanimate object/paper sack/full moon/new beginnings" from the 100 Word Podcast Weekly Challenge #192 (Week Ending 12/26/2009).

100 Word Stories - Where’s a Weak Spot When You Need One? (Repost from Facebook, 5 January 2010)

He was led, still shackled, from a bright anteroom into the darkened arena. The chanting of the crowd echoed off the walls; the combined din throbbed in Plaq’s ears. His eyes began adjusting to the dimness. His captors dimmed the lights for this death match for the benefit of his owl-eyed opponent. For sadistic aliens, these creeps were annoyingly even-handed about their ritual sacrifices. They had even given him gauntlets so he could grip his foe’s mucus-covered body. “OK,” Plaq thought, “so I can grab it; if I don’t find some kind of weak-spot soon, I’m toast no matter what.”

This was in response to the combo-prompt of "mucus" and "eyes like an owl" from the 100 Word Podcast Weekly Challenge #193 (Week of 1/3/2010).