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Thread: 100 Words!

  1. #11
    Join Date
    Sep 2014
    Phoenix, Arizona

    Lad wanted Ally to notice him. But he wasn't the quarterback. He wasn't the class president. He thought about writing her a poem and slipping it into her locker. He thought about giving her his heart. He thought about nothing else.

    He thought about it as he held the door so the girl in a wheelchair could roll into second hour chemistry.

    Surrounded by athletes and student council members, Ally came down the hall, and looked in.

    Later, Lad found a neatly folded note in his locker. On it was written, "Thank you for being sweet to my cousin. Ally."

  2. #12
    Member hvysmker's Avatar
    Join Date
    Sep 2014
    Fremont, Ohio USA
    Blog Entries
    "Wake up." The voice jolts, coming from nowhere. "Wake up. You're having another nightmare."

    The dream fades. That horrible dream about Dallas. Of a man as seen through a gun-sight. This time, it doesn't get to the part where the sight jumps, giving a last view of a curly head jerking, disintegrating in a spray of red.

    Not this time, my eyes opening before that part. Who was it? I don't remember.

    I shake my head at a man dressed in an orange jump-suit looking down at my bunk, wondering, "Am I John?"

    "Hell, no. He's the man you shot."

  3. #13
    Member dither's Avatar
    Join Date
    Jan 2014
    on the fence
    Blog Entries
    100 words

    Ghosts, life after death,and where do i stand on the subject? Good question.
    For some time now i have been unable to find a book to read.
    In the back of my mind i am haunted by a visitation that i think occurred one night as i lie in my bed was i dreaming ? Good question.
    Beth, a fellow worker from my past, i was told some time later that she died of cancer.
    Our dog was put to sleep last week, and today i borrowed a library-book entitled "Ghosts among us", shall i dream tonight?
    Good question.

    Last edited by dither; October 6th, 2014 at 12:22 PM.
    If i post a comment on a "WIP", LOOK! I'm a reader that's all, and i can only tell how i feel, as a READER, giving/offering feedback. Hoping to learn and grow here. So please, tell me where i'm going wrong.

    Me? I'm just a fly on the wall.

    Look! I'm trying, okay?

    One can but dream, if only i had dared.

    "The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is an attribute of the strong" Mahatma Gandhi.
    Alas, i am weak.

    I must find a way to Eastbourne and i so wish that i could dance.

  4. #14
    Manu tipped his face toward the stars, drained the goblet. Red liquid spilled; thick rivulets ran down his chin and onto his chest.

    Fernando stood silent, red-faced. Frustrated. Impotent.

    “It’s time,” said the woman. “Let’s get you a dose too, love.” The back of his hand made a sickening, flat sound as he slapped Manu almost instinctively. A welt raised upon his cheek, but he didn’t seem to feel the pain. He smiled. The woman handed Manu a sliver of salty fish, then began mixing Fernando’s goblet of elixir.

    Once they’d all ingested the materials, dancing could begin at last.
    It all starts with a name and flows from there. A ridiculous moniker springs to mind and it launches like a multi-lubed slippery-sloop down chutes made of buttery-floops. Down, down, down. We watch, spellbound. Rapturous. Glockenspiel. We do our due diligence with penitence and penicillin. Do what’s due, then dew drops on your moon-pops.

  5. #15
    The cat was staring at the wall again. Every night he would stare at that spot for hours, never moving a paw. What was he staring at? Did he have a purpose? Or was he completely bonkers?

    Bonkers, I had decided. I had tempted him away from his vigil with a treat when I caught a flash of movement at the edge of my vision. Some - thing - had slithered out from the wall. The cat froze.

    A toothy grin spread on the creature’s face. “About time that cat take a break. Now we can have some real fun.”

  6. #16
    I absolutely despise dirty clothes, which is why strongly hate the constant coffee stains on my shirt. Yet every time I drink coffee, I seem to spill some of it onto my shirt. Because of this, I have been working extremely hard at three jobs everyday and have finally acquired sufficient money to hire a good housekeeper. The housekeeper has been staying and working here for two days now. She is an avid tea-drinker, but every time she drinks tea, she seems to spill some of it onto her blouse.

    I hate the constant tea stains on my housekeeper's blouse.

  7. #17
    Title: Fiddle down to the wire.

    Lights checked, sound check and the program is in order. The crowed filters in the auditorium and whispers become more of a distraction than an adrenalin rush. Alright for the final tuning, damn a little flat from the standard four forty not a problem there is still time just a little more on the high E. Almost there, just a little more and “PING” damn it, its broke. Roadie string case I need another high E and make it fast. He tosses it across stage as I grab, I’ve never been so quick, slide twist,twist ah four forty. We’re on!
    Last edited by Awanita; November 25th, 2014 at 08:51 PM.

  8. #18
    “Stanch the flow after you’ve filled six decanters.” Blankenship spun the ship around and headed for Newcomb.

    Malshiva drained the body’s moisture, stopping after the sixth vessel. She wrapped it with pungent strips of vinegar-soaked linen, taking care to overlap.

    Upon one wall of the cabin, rows of the vessels indicated their crew’s dwindling population. As the men had fallen over dead, or near dead as Malshiva deemed appropriate, she’d drained them. Always Blankenship observed, no matter his occupation. It was down to the two of them now, and the last six empty decanters clinked together as the ship rocked.
    It all starts with a name and flows from there. A ridiculous moniker springs to mind and it launches like a multi-lubed slippery-sloop down chutes made of buttery-floops. Down, down, down. We watch, spellbound. Rapturous. Glockenspiel. We do our due diligence with penitence and penicillin. Do what’s due, then dew drops on your moon-pops.

  9. #19
    Kane had enough time to also wonder, before he pulled the trigger...is there a precise term for having so many events run through your mind as time seems to come to a stop?

    Beginning with the invasion, proceeding to the vicious treatment of the enemy, to the discovery of the Central Core which animated all of them, to his chance discovery of the Core this afternoon.

    He also had time to wonder what would happen if he were successful in hitting the Core Stem, even considering his own fate, which might be death.

    He pulled the trigger.

  10. #20
    She was a hero, they cheered.

    She had done the unthinkable; killed the invincible demon man, the fighter with the strange red eyes who the townspeople suspected of a multitude of crimes.

    A small smile was left on his face as life drained from the crimson eyes staring up at her.

    He had been her mentor. She had committed the crimes, not him. And he had found out.

    This was his punishment for finding out her secret. And the guilt, the pain, was the punishment she had to bear in exchange.

    He hadn't even been fighting with his dominant arm.

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