101 Word Short Stories
The stories below were written by authors taking the 101 Challenge.
By Patryk
Raindrops tap an irregular beat on my window, punctuating the rhythm of the wasp battering against the glass to escape. The fluttering of Lilliputian wings can’t break the barrier. She is crazy about freedom—a return to her world. She knows well that she can’t win with major force, but she can’t stop fighting. Life is…
By Kenzie Edgar
He glanced at the chair on the way from the prison canteen to his cell. He saw it three times a day but it still sent a shiver down his spine. The other inmates said it was possessed by the many souls it had taken. He didn’t believe in an afterlife. The idea of a…
By Kate Casper
Mara wanted to thank her mother. But the scarf would never look any good on her. Should she tell her? No. She didn’t want to appear ungrateful. Should she return it to her mother? No. A returned gift is painful. People think it’s a repudiation of their love. But she’d been taught not to lie.…
By Prospero Dae
“Not now, Pumpkin, I’m busy.” Bemused, the blue-eyed girl continues to play pretend with her dolls, holding up one in particular. “I’ll fix your doll later.” The whetstone slips from his hands. “Shocking how her head just came off like that.” She sighs. “Daddy will be back in a minute.” He leaves, she pouts. A few…
By Prospero Dae
They say this subway line has trains to the major galaxies. Here’s an express train now. The DeLorean-like hatch opens, and I take a few mincing steps forward. This train is going to Andromeda. All aboard! (There’s only me.) The ride is smooth, and after a time, I no longer feel like vomiting. The ringing…
By Perry McDaid
John hungered for friendship he could never quite nurture but envied. He would arrive in the bar, burst into company who didn’t appreciate the defamatory remarks he’d offer as humour, order a pint, and settle in like a long lost friend. They tried to ignore him at first, but he would become increasingly insulting. When…
By Prospero Dae
Buenos Aires, 1989. I stood on a platform in Retiro Station looking up at the vaulted ceiling, when a flock of mustard-breasted birds broke the chapel-like silence so fully enveloping me. But soon she would arrive as though stepping off a cloud—tall in a sleeveless dress as black as a bear’s nose, her fey hand…
