#100WW - Jan 15, 2025
photo prompt
100 word story
Write something that moves us in exactly 100 words, inspired by the photo above!
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Rules Are Simple
- Precisely 100 words (title excluded)
- Give it a Title
- Submit Story in Comment Box
- Include your X (Twitter) handle
- One entry (per person) per week
when
New prompts 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
Foster connections and healthy habits of creativity.
100 Word Wednesday
Write something that moves us, and tell an entire story with only 100 words. Most importantly, share a story that begs to be read and reread!
#100WW Use hashtags and share on social! #comelaydownink
We nominate for awards, including Best of The Net. All submissions are considered for publication online and in our print mag.
Alternatively, we also have a New Submission Form for 100 Word Stories. With this in mind, submit only one story per month via the form. However, we encourage you to participate weekly on our blog in addition to one monthly submission.
On the first Wednesday of each month, we publish 2 selected 100 Word Stories (1 from submissions and 1 entry from the 100 Word Wednesday weekly prompts on the blog.)
Read other entries and comment on others. Lastly, this is a positive forum for feedback!
5 thoughts on “#100WW – Jan 15, 2025”
I’m with you
Though your’e looking for someone ….I’m with you
Though your’e waiting for someone ….I’m with you
Though your’e crying for someone ….I’m with you
Though you need someone …I’m with you
Though your’e happy…. I’m with you
Though your’e Sad….I’m with you
Though your’e good…. I’m with you
Though your’e bad…. I’m with you
Though your’e with someone…. I’m with you
Though your’e lonely….I’m with you
All I need is ‘JUST BE WITH ME or ATLEAST GIVE A GLANCE TO ME’
because A glance of your’s will pay all my efforts to reach you at this time my dear Just look at me I’m with you.
Last Cigarette
She’ll have to suck on a mint, rub more sandalwood oil on her skin. She opens a window, but the smoke hovers, sinks into her dress.
The lace itches and she’s decided not to wear the veil. Enough with the coy, the chaste. Who does anyone think they’re kidding?
She said yes because everyone told her to say no. Obviously it won’t end well. But there’s a dance afterward and she loves to dance.
Outside, a pair of pigeons coo. Little messengers. She takes one last drag, hears a gentle knock at the door. Her lips paint the filter red.
@meeshmeyerwrites
Fragments of a 10-Year Old
I watched her kiss our waitress by the bins behind the Pancake House – they held each other like a secret, and that memory fell into this drop of ink along with flowers that eat meat and weeds that digest flies, and I remember that my father’s voice sounded like ancient earth, and that some words are deciduous because they fall on the ground without being noticed, and that cities, Dad said, litter the night by dumping light in the sky. But mostly I remember she kissed our waitress by the bins behind the Pancake House where the pigeons eat.
Brilliant!
Grey Ends
Grey path through the park, grey skies, and grey hair. The colour of my life, unchanged with each day of Covid, drove me out of our home in the afternoons for our permitted daily walk. I hoped the fresh air would soften my irritation at you; at your insistence that we walked separately.
‘It’s liberating to have rare time apart. Give us something to talk about’ you said.
I wondered when we last had what anyone would call a conversation.
Two pigeons nearby, eyed me with curiosity. Side by side, perched on a bicycle rack, they cooed in contented companionship.