March 20, 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.

10 thoughts on “100 Word Wednesday – March 20”

  1. Merril D Smith

    “The Room”

    In mid-June, the rising sun sends light through the curtains. They look like party streamers in swirls of pink. The angle is just right at 5:30 to turn the foot of the bed into a glowing ball of color. I remember the first time I saw it that way. I hadn’t heard the usual blast of music, the sound of drawers and doors opening and closing. Shan had swim practice. She should be getting ready. But she wasn’t. She didn’t make it to swim practice that day.

    Ten years, I’ve kept the room as it was. She might still return.

    Twitter: @merril_mds

    0
  2. David Baldwin

    “Mother”

    Sunlight dances around Her. Motes of dust seem to freeze inches from Her skin. Gentle, loving warmth emanates from Her bed. The very air in this room waits in silence.

    She’s so peaceful, so serene. The one who brought us all together. Our Mother God.

    When I feel Her cold wrist, I swear there’s still a pulse.

    We hold our vigil for Her, wondering what to do next.

    Someone pounds on the door.

    “Open up, this is the police!”

    I run to Her side. They can’t have Her, they can’t!

    My breath catches in my throat.

    Her eyes are open.

    X: @RavensGazedwb
    IG: @words.by.davey
    Bluesky: @wordsbydavey.bsky.social

    3
  3. Karen Pierce Gonzalez

    Sheer Window Coverings

    On this day they are thin. Perhaps too thin for the darkness I still crave. I desire a ruddy black to keep me longer in the silk cocoon I have woven around myself. I am not ready to burst into bright sunlight that could singe the tips of my soon-to-be-unfolding wings.

    Then I will need instantly to migrate towards whatever direction my instincts tell me will keep me alive. And will follow that compass for a season before I flutter through another thin veil, unable to look back at what I might have been had I never learned to weave.

    @folkheartpress

    5
  4. Chris Whitney

    When I Awake

    I woke to shafted sunlight
    streaking my legs, my shoulders. The particles of light reflected on the glass of my photograph, centered on the bedroom wall—light stroked the mountain for a second time. I rested in that moment, the particles of light a measure of my being, a soft exclamation point that needed no interpretation.
    Tomorrow, I’ll wake ten minutes early to face the window in anticipation of a friend arriving promptly at 650 AM. When the light constricts my pupils just enough to see the day a little sharper, I’ll sit there in stillness for another ten minutes.

    5
  5. Susan Richardson

    Blanket

    The morning of Rory’s funeral we found Mabel where she had been for days, on her bed, weeping, curled up in Rory’s old green blanket. She wouldn’t let us wash it, said it smelled like a sun just rising, like him. They were twins, so we knew it was extra hard on her, but she did eventually give up the blanket, said he would need it wherever he ended up, to keep him warm, to help him remember. It would have been an empty casket otherwise, given the fact that those search and rescue teams never did find his body.

    6

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