101 Words

We Stand in Solidarity With the Black Community

June 3, 2020 10 Comments

We have never been a political magazine.

In fact, our mission has always been to remove ourselves from the nightmare that is the 24 hours news cycle and focus on publishing storiess 365 days a year.

We do this because art is necessary.

Art moves people.

Art changes people.

Art gives people a reason to live.

But what we are seeing this week in the news is more than just “news,” it’s a wake up call.

We have decided to not publish any stories for the rest of the week.

I encourage everyone to pause, listen, and hear black voices. And if you can afford it, consider donating to a charity that helps fight racism. There are many charities to choose from. Here are a few suggestions:

—Shannon and the entire 101 Words team.

First Class Curse

June 2, 2020 5 Comments

The queue crawled. The Southwitch sighed, annoyed.

“Where goeth your parcels?” the gentleman behind her asked, smiling.

“Nowhere,” she snapped, clutching the envelopes. Her sister, the Northwitch, had convinced her to administer Spring Curses by post. Unprecedented, but her sister had been very convincing.

When the Southwitch agreed, she hadn’t accounted for Vernal Equinox, the Kingdom’s biggest holiday. Creatures sending packages everywhere.

The gentleman chuckled. “Post office, amirite?”

But the Southwitch frowned. Soon, the curses would degrade, seeping through the envelopes, damning them all. She could almost hear her sister’s cackle.

The queue halted.

Up front, a sign: CLOSED FOR LUNCH.

— Shelby Van Pelt

A Simple Hike

June 1, 2020 9 Comments

“Holy crap.” I stood frozen, facing that beast with needle-pointed horns. Steam poured from his nostrils. He lowered his head to charge. I yanked my backpack from my shoulders, laying it on the narrow mountain path. I needed my gun.

The pack slipped in loose rocks, tumbled toward a gorge below.

“Un-friggin-believable,” watching it fall. Hope to God that mountain goat doesn’t charge. Perhaps I can retreat in the powdery dirt on the trail. It’d be slippery if this stuff were wet.

Then I saw lightning flash in dark clouds above, and thunder bellowed.

I only thought it couldn’t get worse.

— M D Smith IV

Spring

May 31, 2020 2 Comments

The grass glows in a luscious green. When she closes her eyes, Aylin can almost smell it, can feel a soft breeze brushing against her skin.

She watches children playing in the garden. Imagines the sound of their laughter, their shrieks of excitement.

On a bench, a couple is absorbed in conversation, tenderly stroking each other’s arms as they talk.

Aylin presses her face against the cold wall of glass. It has been such a long time since she felt a warmer touch. “Tomorrow we will run another test,” the doctor has assured her. Please, let it be negative this time.

— B.E.Seidl

Best Laid Plans

May 30, 2020 6 Comments

“Hope nobody packed white!” the owner of the cabin says, his shirt darkening by degrees in the rain. He doesn’t mean to make Mara cry—we didn’t tell him; he might’ve charged extra. In our truck, a greedy bouquet gorges itself beneath the cracked window. The beach, submerged. The dock, too waterlogged to hold weight.

Mara’s mascara is waterproof as she marches inside. We wait for the owner to leave, then we work. A doorway altar. An aisle of couch cushions. Making real what we played as children.

In sickness and health. Sunshine and rain.

We tell the story for years.

— Erin Arata

One Thing Right

May 29, 2020 6 Comments

Ms. Ludding announced the spelling contest rules: “No groaning if your teammate misspells; no cheering an opponent’s misspelling.”

Oh no. I’m THE worst speller EVER. Why can’t this be an elimination contest? Then I could fail once and disappear. Ms. Ludding, don’t you see my teammates grimacing? They hate me already.

Whenever my turn came, the other teams grinned and mine eye-rolled. Loser—I can’t get one thing right. More hate.

Here we go again.

“Capable.”

I guessed: “(kay?) C, a, (puh?) p, a, (bul?) b, l, e? Capable?”

“Correct!” Ms. Ludding beamed.

The whole darn class applauded.

Best. Day. Ever.

— Coco Jane