#100WW - Jan 8, 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!
6 thoughts on “#100WW – Jan 8, 2025”
Kissing at the Traffic Light
We spent most nights in the cab of a dirty old truck delivering newspapers. I didn’t have to go with him. I wasn’t getting paid and had to stay hidden. The food he brought me to eat upset my stomach. I had to pee in a bedpan or walk to a diner in Long Island City. I thought we were in love, so it was a small price to pay. Especially when he’d pull me closer at a stop light and kiss me till the light turned green; I thought it was romantic. I didn’t know he was using me.
Your ex sat in the corner of a café in York. The same café we’re sitting in now.
She’d perched on her chair, like one of those pink-iced petit fours on the edge of a tiered cake stand. Ice crackled in her fizzy water which she studied, looking for answers. She’d forgotten how to do answers. Like, why did she wear clothes she hated? Or answer to Rebecca when her name was Becca? She spotted him swagger towards her. A green light outside flashed ‘Go!’
You sipped champagne. Asked, ‘what could you have to think about?’
‘Traffic lights,’ I said
His speedometer was set to crash and die. After all the despair and gloom in his life, it was the last thrill he would allow himself.
Traffic was scant at that bewitching hour and he had floored the pedal until he reached the intersection where the lights were red, for him at least. He stopped but the screech of the wheels went unheard, like his pleadings and apologies. So, he stared at the lights, wishing them to change.
He smirked, then laughed, and then broke down seeing there were more reasons continue than to end it all.
18 to 11.
“Curmudgeon!” My wife proclaims the court of public opinion’s verdict.. “Realist” I reply in defense.
ust stop all this ritualistic sadness. Why so many feel obligated to come to funerals and stare at pine boxes. They had every chance to pay attention to the deceased when he was still with us. Now I prefer to try to remember him as he was in his life, not as his body awaits the grave. I’m with Willie Nelson: “I don’t go to funerals, I won’t be at mine”.
Just Let Go
The light turned green, but Mabel kept her foot on the brake, eyes focused on her fingers hovering above the wheel. Impatience swarmed around her in blaring horns and curses from angry drivers. She didn’t hear any of it. Her mind was swirling with thoughts of the lake, its dark mysteries, the music rising from the depths that only she could hear. She and Rory had been in the city for just three weeks, but she felt suffocated by the odour of violence in the air, the filth and the hopelessness. It would be so easy to just let go.
Stop – no go
The serene siren sits in her car at the lights, waiting her turn. The gloaming settling in, her friend saying hello. She is invisible in the world, a fading beauty keeping winter at bay. At least for now. The serene siren feels like the traffic lights, always stop – no go. Her issue is which way? Kindness drives her, though her song never seems to find the right one. Lost souls who need her light, so they don’t crash upon the shores that life has given them. Yet who calls for her? Stop – no go…no please stay, the serene siren sighs.