April 17, 2024
photo prompt
100 word story
Inspired by the photo above, write something that will move us in exactly 100 words!
Also, if you have an X (Twitter) handle, include it below your submission. First-time comments will be held for moderation. Once approved, they will be posted automatically.
Rules Are Simple
- Exactly 100 words (title excluded)
- Give it a Title
- Submit in Comment Box
- One entry (per person) per week
when
A new prompt will appear each Wednesday on the blog at 12 am EDT.
where
Post your entries in the comment box of the current week's prompt.
why
Fostering connections and healthy habits of creativity.
100 Word Wednesday
Write something that will move us! Tell an entire story with only 100 words. Share a story that begs to be read and reread!
#100WW Use the hashtags and share on social! #comelaydownink
We nominate for awards, including Best of The Net.
Alternatively, we also have a New Submission Form for 100-Word Stories. These submissions will all be considered for publication online and in our print mag.
You can submit only one story per month via the form. However, you can participate weekly here on our blog in addition to one monthly submission.
On the first Wednesday of each month, we will publish 2 selected 100 Word Stories (1 from submissions and 1 entry from the 100 Word Wednesday weekly prompt here on the blog.)
Read other entries and comment. This will be a positive forum for feedback.
3 thoughts on “100 Word Wednesday – April 17”
Only a shadow
I am you. You are me. Alone, sitting on a fence. Only a shadow to the world around us. It will carry on, as we watch, look, ponder and wonder on the world from our side of the glass. Someday someone will see us, bring us in from the shade, or we will come into the light – timid. Tired of the dark and of our forgotten tears. Echoed out into an unhearing world. Rain will fall; we will be here. I am you. You are me. Alone, sitting on a fence. Only a shadow to the world around us.
@emma_datson
Perched
This two-toned finch rests on fence tops at sunset and sings of sunrise and the making of nests. She believes in tomorrow. Always has.
It is there in the spread of her wings, the feathery faith she glides upon when larger birds of prey swoop down or boys, bb guns cocked, take aim.
Aware of the earth’s magnetic field, she remains in the shadows, holding on for life, dear life, until it’s time to distract predators. This is what she has to give the future that will emerge from eggs still safely tucked into pulled bits of her brown tuft.
@folkheartpress
Little Bird
Everyone in the town called Mabel by her nickname, “little bird”. She was a tiny thing, no more than 5 feet tall, delicate like a sparrow. A quiet girl, by nature, but oh my that girl could sing, and when she did, birds filled the branches of the trees, singing right along with her. She would wander down by the lake, singing her made up songs, as if she were calling to someone or something in the depths. When she disappeared, the birds stopped singing for three whole days. It was as if the sky itself was holding its breath.
@floweringink