tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18264926263446403812023-07-30T02:58:19.151-05:00One Hundred Words A DayEvery day I write a 100-word, story fragment or flash fiction. Got something you'd like me to write about? Leave it in the comments.
Follow me on twitter: <a href="http://www.twitter.com/darthkwandoh">@darthkwandoh</a> or on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/onehundredwordsaday/">Facebook</a>Chiphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18170221449069402391noreply@blogger.comBlogger1304125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1826492626344640381.post-80778024007264435382019-01-27T21:20:00.002-06:002019-01-27T21:20:21.968-06:00100 Words a Day 1276<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Caitir struggled to catch her breath behind the water
barrel. Whistles rang out in the darkness of the camp; the guards had realized
something was amiss. Torches started to light up the night. Once her heartbeat
had slowed, she turned her attention inwards and filled her mind with the image
of a bat. She exhaled and it flowed down her spine, run along her limbs, and
tingled the tips of her digits. She felt herself change. The night sounds of
the camp and the surrounding forest sharpened and diversified. There was a
soldier on the other side of the barrel.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />chiphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800274088629197509noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1826492626344640381.post-22889937602182680532019-01-24T21:17:00.002-06:002019-01-24T21:18:29.242-06:00100 Words a Day 1275<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
The few gods that were able manifested themselves for the
divine council. Of those that couldn’t, some sent a servitor. Others sent
nothing.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So few,” Phoebus lamented. His power waxed with the moon,
and it was only because it was bright in the sky that he had been able to
appear at all.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
“Were any more lost to the Unmaking?” Fire asked, blazing
with power. He had been hidden within in the subterranean realm of the dvergr
during the War of Making and Unmaking and had escaped largely unscathed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
They waited for news of any more of their number succumbing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />chiphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800274088629197509noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1826492626344640381.post-89935274305340623212019-01-23T21:19:00.002-06:002019-01-23T21:19:23.311-06:00100 Words a Day 1274<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
The ululations of the waste dwellers pierced the morning
silence with the same savagery that their crude knives pierced the villager’s
chests. Thanatos was standing in his small, rented room, bleary-eyed, when one
of the raiders burst through the door, covered in dirt, gore, and madness. The
man lunged at him. Thanatos thrust his arms out, catching the knife. But the
man was so covered with blood that his slick arm slipped free, leaving Thanatos
with a long gash on his forearm. The rough man seized Thanatos and stabbed him repeatedly.
He feel limply when the man finally released him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />chiphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800274088629197509noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1826492626344640381.post-25024278142943044212019-01-22T21:53:00.001-06:002019-01-22T21:53:26.984-06:00100 Words a Day 1273“That didn’t go as planned.”<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Alfie turned his head towards Garth, leaning forward as
though he was looking around a corner. “Ya think?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He turned back towards the burning car.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What the fuck are we going to do now?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Can’t we get a ride?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The two men ducked as the fuel tank exploded, showering the area with bits of
metal and plastic.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Who are we going to call to come and get us? Do you have a
phone? I don’t have a phone! Not anymore!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Garth checked his pockets. “Damn, my phone was in the car
too.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Alfie just sighed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />chiphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800274088629197509noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1826492626344640381.post-25742208640342008592019-01-19T08:10:00.002-06:002019-01-19T08:10:37.639-06:00100 Words a Day 1272<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
When Jeff came to, he was straddling an unfamiliar man. He
was almost familiar though, but Jeff couldn’t place him. He felt a sliding
sensation on his body somewhere, then heard a thunk. He looked towards the
noise, eventually managing to focus his eyes on a bloody knife. It was lying next
to the man, on the floor, just below Jeff’s own hand.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Where’d that come
from?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He realized he was panting. He tried to stand, but his limbs
were leaden. And he kept slipping in something. He settled for rolling off the still
man and struggling to his knees.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />chiphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800274088629197509noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1826492626344640381.post-77913562026457385562019-01-18T22:33:00.002-06:002019-01-18T22:33:27.975-06:00100 Words a Day 1271<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mattock probed the stones in front of him using a long pole with
a steel cap. He’d put it there after almost losing his leg to a trap triggered
by the metal he was carrying. Once his examination of the floor was complete,
he placed the pole on the ground behind him and adjusted his lantern. The next
set of tools clinked on their ring as he removed them from his backpack.
Mattock assessed each in turn before selecting one and using it to examine the
tunnel wall. Once he’d finished with it, the final inspection was with his
fingers.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />chiphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800274088629197509noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1826492626344640381.post-6832649523529364332019-01-17T22:13:00.002-06:002019-01-17T22:13:24.799-06:00100 Words a Day 1270<div class="MsoNormal">
Unbeknownst to nearly the entire world, all the children of
that seaside town were born on the same night. This meant, on a particular
winter day, when the tides were high, all the children born ten years prior would
be of an appropriate age to wade into the chill waters of the Lavalcaster Bay when
the full moon lights up the water, and the waving arms of the sea people waiting
to take the children to lightless depths. There they would learn the history of
their people and add their voices to the chorus imploring their sleeping god to
awaken. <o:p></o:p></div>
chiphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800274088629197509noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1826492626344640381.post-27884072467814227632019-01-13T21:57:00.002-06:002019-01-13T21:57:33.817-06:00100 Words a Day 1269<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
The road wound through the mountain like a ribbon, following
the landscape’s natural curves and revealing massive, tranquil beauty around
every bend. Trees encroached on one side, making a fiery half-arch with their
fall colors. The cracked windows brought us those smells so unfamiliar to the
city: fresh air, trees, and the occasional whiff of horse. It was as though
other people were absent from the world.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
John Denver faded; I turned to my wife; she rolled her eyes.
The song was already playing again, and we launched into the eerie single-voice
harmony that only married couples seem to achieve.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />chiphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800274088629197509noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1826492626344640381.post-54162983223924853962019-01-11T22:01:00.001-06:002019-01-11T22:02:40.444-06:00100 Words a Day 1268<div class="MsoNormal">
The danger of the hibernal forest wasn’t a predator stalking
through the snow. Nor was it a fast-moving stream, or sudden forest fire. It
was stagnation. No great bear or silent pack of wolves would kill you. Your
inability to get food or escape would be sufficient. The people living at the
perimeter of the forest, because no one lived in it, claimed that there was a malevolent
intelligence to the place that did its best to first draw travelers onto the
winding paths between the soft pines and then lure the deeper into the forest
to freeze to death.<o:p></o:p></div>
chiphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800274088629197509noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1826492626344640381.post-73828544753130303822019-01-11T06:07:00.000-06:002019-01-11T06:07:16.610-06:00100 Words a Day 1267<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oh my god,” she groaned to herself. “Why won’t he just shut
up already?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There had been a tickle in the back of her mind when her
friend had suggested setting her up on a blind date, but she’d ignored it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Things had started off alright: some casual
getting-to-know-you discussion. But he’d slowly started to squeeze her out of
the conversation. His presence seemed to fill the table completely. At was
stifling even. It was as though he was some sort of talking python that crushed
his victims until they couldn’t speak and then forced them to listen to him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />chiphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800274088629197509noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1826492626344640381.post-27195566375218228572019-01-09T19:01:00.001-06:002019-01-09T19:01:21.502-06:00100 Words a Day 1266<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
His face was the color of dusty shadow, touched above each
eye with a slash of white. Scars crisscrossed his dark face and bald head. One
on his cheek pulled the edge of his lip into half an unsettling smile. He wore
an unremarkable traveler’s outfit that hung down in such a way as to hide the
man beneath. Wherever he walked, be it over gravel or up old stairs, his
footsteps never seemed to make a sound. He also had a reputation for
materializing out of shadows. His response to people mentioning this was a
laugh and a wave.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />chiphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800274088629197509noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1826492626344640381.post-14692697746782226232019-01-06T10:28:00.002-06:002019-01-06T10:28:28.411-06:00100 Words a Day 1265<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jal saw his back in his mother’s old mirror. He yanked his shirt
up over the splotch. It was growing. A chill tickled his mind, but wasn’t sure
if it was the curse or just his imagination. It didn’t itch or burn. It just
sat there, silently. He had always assumed it would do something. It turned out
it was waiting.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was waiting for him to go to sleep. And to dream. There
it did itch and burn. It whispered to him, all the horrible things it would do
once it had consumed his being and stolen his identity.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />chiphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800274088629197509noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1826492626344640381.post-62737367498564548792019-01-05T22:29:00.004-06:002019-01-05T22:31:13.650-06:00100 Words a Day 1264<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
They approached the old man struggling with an upturned cart
in the center of the road. He looked up, face red and sweaty. When he realized
who stood before him he threw himself to the ground.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“10,000 apologies young masters. I will have this offensive
cart uprighted and out of your way presently. I only await your permission to
continue.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The young woman lifted her hand and the old man stood by
putting one foot under him, then placing a hand on his knee, using that hand
and the one hand on the ground to push himself to his feet.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />chiphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800274088629197509noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1826492626344640381.post-59145772133561867002019-01-04T21:30:00.002-06:002019-01-04T21:30:31.620-06:00100 Words a Day 1263<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was a dark and misty morning, the kind that’d be called
warm in the winter and cool in the summer. All the cars on the street were
covered in dew, and inside they were just warm enough to be comfortable. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was as if the world was still in bed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The stillness was broken by a car door opening. It was a compact, sensible car, only a few years old. The man who opened the door was
unremarkable for the neighborhood; he lived alone; he had a college degree; he
owned a car that he primarily used for commuting.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />chiphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800274088629197509noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1826492626344640381.post-24784388519814756152019-01-03T20:32:00.002-06:002019-01-03T20:32:06.463-06:00100 Words a Day 1262<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
“They kill for pleasure. And the glory of their faceless
good.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What kind of god doesn’t have a face? What kind of god
wants this?” I demanded, gesturing towards the carnage that was all around us.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“They call him Doom. He is death by chance. Death by no
fault of your own. It’s just an excuse for slaughter.” He spit on the corpse of
a raider. One of many scattered among the bodies of the townspeople that
cluttered the smoldering town.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A distant sound made both men turn.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We need to leave,” the old man said. “The crows are coming.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />chiphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800274088629197509noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1826492626344640381.post-43735298866607329002018-12-13T21:55:00.001-06:002018-12-13T21:55:40.767-06:00100 Words a Day 1261<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Anything’s possible on the moor.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’d thought that the old man was repeating a bit of folk
musing, or else trying to scare me, when he’d said those words in his hoarse
voice. But as I wandered, utterly lost, having long ago given up on walking
towards what I had assumed were the lights of some house, I came to understand what
he’d meant. Weird noises issued from the darkness and strange shapes stalked
the edge of my vision. When the thick clouds parted, the moon was always in a
different spot, and I never recognized any of the constellations.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />chiphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800274088629197509noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1826492626344640381.post-14046241094550587332018-12-08T21:52:00.000-06:002018-12-08T21:52:42.469-06:00100 Words a Day 1260<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Alex shifted in his chair as the sound of the voices neared.
He glanced over his shoulder. There were two men coming down the row of cubicles,
one walking slightly in front of the other. Alex was sure they were coming for
him. He thought he could hear the heels of each mans’ feet striking the ground
as they came closer. He caught the lead man’s eye and snapped back around. He stared
down hard at his desk, heart racing. He forced himself to look at his computer
screen and struggled to act normal. Maybe they weren’t coming for him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />chiphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800274088629197509noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1826492626344640381.post-15470725348107051902018-12-07T23:26:00.001-06:002018-12-07T23:26:14.506-06:00100 Words a Day 1259<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
The warriors of Ish Tamir attributed the prowess of their
armies to their great devotion to the sun god Altarir, and they claimed, in
public at least, that they would never lose so long as they fought under their
god’s watchful eye. During times of war, fighting men were exempt from the rigorous
devotions their sun god demanded. They joked, always out of earshot of Altarir’s
priests, that they were so successful because they got to sleep in the day of
the battle. Hosts normally assembled just after dawn, when the Ish Tamir would
normally already be deep in prayer.</div>
chiphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800274088629197509noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1826492626344640381.post-11095284824149885562018-12-06T21:58:00.000-06:002018-12-06T21:58:59.858-06:00100 Words a Day 1258<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Spring had arrived. And that meant a renewing of the
campaign against The Bastard King. He had holed up in a fortress build on the
side of one of the floating continents, which made it notoriously difficult to
assault. It was situated such that any invaders would constantly struggle
against the gravity shifts. The Red Bull had a plan however. He’d made a pact
with a strange elf, one who could change his shape. He promised that he and his
troupe would sneak into the castle and open the gates. When the Bull had asked
how, the elf simply smiled.</div>
chiphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800274088629197509noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1826492626344640381.post-30976542688490008862018-12-05T21:55:00.001-06:002018-12-05T21:55:41.199-06:00100 Words a Day 1257<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Once I was criminal, but now I’m a cultist.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Usually it goes the other way, doesn’t it?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yeah,” Emilio leaned back in his chair. “Yeah, usually it
does go the other way. But,” he shrugged. “That’s how it goes sometimes.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You seem pretty okay with the transition.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Emilio shrugged again. “Yeah, being in a cult isn’t as bad
as you’d expect. Always plenty to eat.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“But, aren’t their weird rules and stuff?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yeah… there’s a few of those, but they don’t bother me.
Beats worrying about someone trying to kill me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Uh huh…” Gasper nodded slowly, confused by the man.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />chiphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800274088629197509noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1826492626344640381.post-52556253649935541382018-12-04T22:03:00.001-06:002018-12-04T22:03:22.666-06:00100 Words a Day 1256<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dave was so exhausted by the stop-and-go traffic that he
oozed out of his car more than he stepped out of it. He staggered down the
street and huffed up his front stairs. The fuzziness in his brain made it hard
to get the key in the lock. When he finally did manage to unlock the door, he
sagged against it until it opened.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He pushed the door shut and stumbled towards his room,
shedding his backpack and then his clothes as he went. Down to his underwear
when he finally reached his bed, he collapsed onto it and slept.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />chiphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800274088629197509noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1826492626344640381.post-41414303980037298672018-12-02T21:56:00.002-06:002018-12-02T21:56:42.375-06:00100 Words a Day 1255<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
The door creaked open revealing an old spiral staircase. The
steps were covered with thinning carpet, worn by the tread of many feet. The
bare brick walls that surrounded the staircase were cracked and crumbling. The handrail
squeaked when I put my weight on it. I sighed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’d always been rundown, but it was never this bad. It was
like when I went home and saw my mom limping for the first time. It wasn’t much
of a limp, but it shattered the illusion that the things I’d taken for granted in
my life were as perpetual as they seemed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />chiphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800274088629197509noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1826492626344640381.post-66742128628968185912018-11-29T21:18:00.002-06:002018-11-29T21:18:52.975-06:00100 Words a Day 1254<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
The late night and early morning drivers had kept the roads
free of snow, but the lawns and trees wore their winter best. The sidewalks,
not so much. The tramp of commuter-boots had turned the snow to ice trails or
grey, slushy bumps. The lawns and carefully manicured trees were hidden beneath
a layer of snow that was hard to look at, not because it was sparkling in the
sun, but because the cloudy sky made it so uniform in color. The flags and
tabletop umbrellas hung limp, the only movement was the occasional commuter, either
driving or on foot.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />chiphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800274088629197509noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1826492626344640381.post-23057507164805367302018-11-28T18:32:00.002-06:002018-11-28T18:32:19.230-06:00100 Words a Day 1253<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No, no, no,” I whispered as my car used up the last of its
gas.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I coasted onto the shoulder as the last of my car’s momentum
dissipated. The landscape was silent except for my breathing. I got out of the
car and looked down the road in one direction and then the other.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nothing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was miles to a gas station. But I was broke anyways. I
got back in my car. My head hit the steering wheel. A cold, uncomfortable
tingling pressed down on my chest before spreading to my fingers and toes. I
started shaking and sobbing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />chiphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800274088629197509noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1826492626344640381.post-56037051937258092132018-11-26T20:19:00.001-06:002018-11-26T20:19:18.699-06:00100 Words a Day 1252<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
The train galloped along. I’d long ago lost count of the
number of times the train chugged, but the scenery was unchanged. It had been
nothing but moors for hours. The other passengers towered over me, men with
long, waxed moustaches and stiff suits. After briefly acknowledging one
another, and ignoring me, they’d shaken open large newspapers and I hadn’t seen
any of their faces since. The lunch cart came and went, ignored by the men, and
I ate the sandwich my mother had prepared for me. Not sure what else to do, I
leaned against the window and sighed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />chiphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10800274088629197509noreply@blogger.com0