Long before language, when moonlight kissed the earth each green and lushy night, there were no words per se or even the mouths to say them.
And then there was the time by Francine Witte
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Despite lick-smack-snap, despite sticky-tacky-sweet, despite red and white spirals on peppermint discs, despite green glinting gumdrops, despite chocolate-glazed fingers sucked just clean enough to grab one more sweet thing, she listened,
Despite by Tara Campbell
Full story at: 100wordstory.org
Be a celebrity, says the cookbook of my life.
How so? says my psyche.
Save for retirement, says one.
On the next page, there's a protest.
Whimsy by Kim Chinquee
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Have a story bubbling around your mind? We'd love to read it. Share your 100 Word Story today!
100wordstory.org/submit/
They sit quietly, their hands spread out flat. The mother faces them, pursing the lips someone said were just like Grace Kelly’s.
Nail Party by Laura Wettersten
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She can’t discern the deer from the woods, but she can feel branches scratch the way some people feel cold while watching snow scenes in movies.
Leave No Trace by Frances Badgett
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100 words for your story … no more or no less. Tell a story, pen a slice of your memoir, or try your hand at an essay.
Submissions are open July 1-10
Visit 100wordstory.org/submit/
to submit your stories.
Sometimes in the half-trance of Ambien and Kafka, I stumble into mirrors and remember you, the cognac of your voice, three green swallows on your arm. We were on a train.
Somnambulance by Ryan Griffith
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Our future is fossilized in my kitchen calendar. Your little sister’s wedding in May. Pub trivia at Donnellan’s next week. Anniversary in November. Like it could still happen
Go Swim by George Nevgodovskyy
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Submission Open May 1-8
Send us your 100 Word Story today!
For submissions, visit: 100wordstory.submittable.com/submit
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My mother cried so seldom, she had to buy artificial tears from the drugstore. A vial in her purse ready for her to dispense a drop or two in each arid eye...
Artificial Tears by Clara Silverstein
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The next day, to apologize, my dad took the children fishing at the pond. For bait, they dug up inchworms and one fat nightcrawler.
Little Bluegills by Luke Rolfes.
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#fiction
Last played the day she died, her flute collects dust in the attic—the whisper of her breath still trapped in the hollow of it.
Read the rest of this beautifully haunting story at 100wordstory.org
Tinnitus by Eileen Vorbach Collin
"Robert Shapard’s short fictions barrel down pot-holed roads straight into the unexpected. In his new collection, Bare Ana and Other Stories, the fish are unbuttoned, tattoos start in utero, and it turns out Dad is made out of a burlap bag"
For full review visit 100wordstory.org/book-review-...
What does this picture make you feel?
What memories come to mind?
Explore the recesses of your mind and creativity with this month's photo prompt.
Post your 100 word stories at: 100wordstory.org/photo-prompt/
Garden Snake
Love was a plump rustle in the underbrush. You swallowed the twisting creature whole.
How you long to be lithe again, and lusty, rattling the daylilies; not a half-drunk, bloated, groaning captive of your own metabolism.
For full story visit 100wordstory.org/category/sto...