100 Word Story Challenge! - Page 2

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Thread: 100 Word Story Challenge!

  1. #11
    Member
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    He wanted to talk to her. To share with her all that was his- his love, his life, his hopes, and his fears. Everyday he saw her, sitting beside the lake and gazing. Sometime, she would wave her hand. He liked to think that she was also dreaming like him.

    But he could only dream. There was no way to cross those lines. He would have to overcome those barbed wires first, the Border. Always guarded, forbidden yet daring him. So he came everyday and waited for lines to disappear. He waited for his love to subdue those taunting wires.


    Next :- Tales

  2. #12
    Of all the stories ever told, there are none so poignant as the Tale of the Forgotten Machete. The underlying theme is one of great importance that we would all do well to learn from. It was told to me by my father, who heard it from his father. The lessons learned are just as relevant today as they were half a century ago. However, since we are limited to one hundred words, I will have to skip that tale and relate another story my father used to tell. It starts (and ends) like this: Hey son, pull my finger...


    Next: social media

  3. #13
    I thought it was supposed to be one word? Anyway, here is it:


    Social Media

    Ally was waiting for her video to finish uploading on YouTube. She placed the guitar that she used on her song under her bed. Nobody really knew that she loves to sing, to express through music. She was afraid of rejection—that people might not like how she sings.

    Ninety percent.

    “Dinner’s ready, Ally!” her mom cried out.

    After she ate her dinner, she rushed upstairs and checked her computer. The video already had a thousand hits. The comments were all postive—“You sound great!”

    Now, she isn’t afraid of performing. Because of the social media, she’s now a star.


    Next: Failure
    Last edited by MisterTribute; August 18th, 2012 at 02:15 PM.

  4. #14
    This town is a flat, stubbed thing, the inverse of a muddy footprint.

    The mother city gave it life, spat it out as by-product from violent crucible days, but it exists more for her than because of her. She feeds on it. She plucks its talent like selective gravity. The town's truncated topography is its servitude, its lack, manifest. It is topiarised by her.

    In wealthy circles rumours of limb- and organ-farms solidify: people born for harvest, purpose-built insurance progeny. The decadent and scared rich think this a new science, but they do not visit these failed surrogate vampired places.

    Next: Noir
    Breaking the duck with an expanded LM piece: Hidden Content

  5. #15

    Noir 101

    She teaches names of colors: blanc like unicorns, noir like a cat in a Toulouse-Lautrec poster, rouge like roses, bleu like the Mediterranean.

    Once she brought in Rimbaud's "Voyelles." A beginner’s mistake.


    C’est la synesthésie, she told them. C’est supercool, non?


    They didn’t believe her. Skinny nonchalant children with eyes drawn to electronic devices, they sat before her in rows and said: Vowels don’t have colors. All letters are noires to them, noires on pages blanches.

    She thought of Mallarmé, who sank into despair teaching English, and said nothing. Since then, she just brings blank sheets of colored paper.



    Next: Supercool (with or without French accent)
    Last edited by lasm; August 24th, 2012 at 06:34 PM.

  6. #16
    Mother always told me never to tell a lie, and I’ve always been a good boy. You see, my wife didn’t believe me.


    Stop it, stop it, stop it!


    She just wouldn’t shut up. I told her it had to be done. I shall tell no lie. It was all because of that promise I’d made.


    Till death do us part, they made me say. If I could go back and change it, I would.


    Mother would’ve frowned if I told her I didn’t want it anymore.


    Now they’s both smilin’ down on me. I shall tell no lie.



    Next: Candy

  7. #17
    "It's sweet," he said, and told me to stick out my tongue. I did and he put on small colored dot in the center. "Let it melt, you'll like it, I promise.
    I didn't taste anything sweet. "This isn't candy," I said.
    "Oh, just wait, it's candy of the gods, you'll see."
    The room started to whirl, or was it me. The walls were moving and there were gaudy rainbows and everyone had an dark aura. Dark smoke swirled and monsters reached out for me.
    "Candyman, " I cried. "Save me."
    He only laughed.



    Next: ELEMENTS

  8. #18
    WF Veteran FleshEater's Avatar
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    I wrote this free hand without spell check, please forgive any errors.

    Phillip was a doll maker. Although he didn't create just any "dolls", his seemed to come to life. He knew his art would be the most influential the world had ever seen. The grand master piece Phillip was constructing was nearly finished. A few important elements were still needed; he knew these would be rudimentary in the perfection of his grotesque craft. He had searched and searched until one day he discovered the missing piece. She was a beautiful, alluring blonde who had stolen his attention and rendered him speechless. It was her celestial face, beckoning, the final piece alas.

    Next: Caryatids

  9. #19
    She carried the weight of the world on her shoulders...or at least the weight of the second floor. The peculiar man had petitioned, "Please hold this up here like so, I'll be right back with something else to buttress it."

    She acquiesced, and after a couple of minutes awaiting his return, she discovered she could no longer move her arms and legs. She tried to call for help but could make no sound either.

    Now she knew the secret behind the amazing detail of the building's caryatids. Too late, she realized the peculiar man was no sculptor at all.


    Next: rodeo

  10. #20
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    Lincolnshire, UK
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    Drake certainly had his work cut out. A shimmering gold idol, the exact one he searched Greece years before, was within reach. It perched on a ledge supported by the most beautiful caryatid Drake had ever seen.


    As he moved closer, the floor began to shake. Twelve pillars knocked into each other one by one, eventually smashing into the caryatid beauty. As the stone figure smashed, the idol flew towards Drake. He held his hands open, outstretched his arms and awaited his prize.


    The floor around him gave way, sending Drake plummeting to the Earth's core. Life is a bleep!

    Next: Choices

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