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101 Word Short Stories

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Sticks and Stones

March 1, 2025 6 Comments

By Michael Stone

Our mornings were always filled with tangled sheets, scattered toys, and tiny footsteps chasing clattering paws across hardwood floors—oh, the beautiful clamor. We didn’t mind waking early to a house full of life, did we, my love?

You mourn alone, our essence lingering. Echoes of gnashing metal at the forest’s edge on that fateful day still cut deeply. Now you cast sticks and stones into the empty rooms of our house until you have nothing left to throw. Your venomous words mask heartache, self-inflicted wounds slicing like a knife.

Patience, sweetheart. We’ll be waiting for you in the pines’ shadows.

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Reader Interactions

Comments

  1. Nan says

    March 1, 2025 at 2:06 pm

    So raw, but with a hopeful last line. Thought this was excellent.

    Reply
  2. Michael says

    March 2, 2025 at 7:43 pm

    Thank you!

    Reply
  3. Ed Kratz says

    March 5, 2025 at 7:51 am

    Moving. A good example of the way so much can be unsaid, beneath the surface in flash.

    Reply
  4. Toni Brayer says

    March 5, 2025 at 9:39 am

    “Echos of gnashing metal…”. Really wonderful. All of it.

    Reply
  5. Christie Walker says

    March 5, 2025 at 10:00 am

    Loved this. So sad but hopeful in the end. I like that the POV was that if the dead spouse. Excellent

    Reply
  6. Bud says

    March 6, 2025 at 7:00 pm

    Very poignant and moving.

    Reply

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