#100WW - Nov 26, 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!
4 thoughts on “#100WW – Nov 26, 2025”
The Sisters
They’re were doing homework, when Julie remarked:
“On a day like this with those dark clouds hovering around, if you take this lamp out, you can capture a gennie…”
“Think I’m stupid?” Millie retorted.
“No, really. The lamp’s enough wire attached.”
“What if I get a shock or something?”
“You won’t. Silly. The clouds will turn into a genie and disappear into the lamp. To make it stay inside, I’ll on the lamp. Bargain with him to have your wishes fulfilled.”
Millie acted accordingly to set the genie free.
“Your wish, Missus?”
“Make Julie stay inside the lamp for good.”
The end
She was her own florist
The dawning came when she closed her eyes. ‘Slowly’, she reminded herself. She had all night to let budding vines sprawl across the open fields of her imagination. No need to rush; a bad habit elsewhere in her life: chewing ice whenever someone wanted to kiss her, filing purple painted fingernails so sharply that no one wanted to hold her hands. Even slip-sliding into marriage had been impulse-driven. Four times she said ‘I do’ without ever really once meaning it. But this, this wakening of blooms on the canvas of her mind, was all she ever really wanted or needed.
Waiting
She was rosy cheeks and sticky fingers, pigtails and gingham dress, metal braces and messy first kiss. She was high grades and cupcake baker, partygoer, and spreadsheet checker; earnest seeker of handholds and hugs; ruthless criminal lawyer.
She loved like lightning, cracked you open, lit you up inside. Now she wanted your flames to ignite a light in her, make her womb glow.
She was a calendar, a dedicated cycle recorder, a tea-total automaton. She loved like the moon, counted stars to pass the nights, while her heart rained. She was weather; a clenched knuckle waiting for a blue line.
@TeresaRenton
IN MOMENTS AND REVERIES
Thirteen-year-old Maddox Millway didn’t question why the lamp burned bright in the deserted fields just beyond his backyard.
He attributed the illumination that came from the object, a battered garage sale find from earlier this summer that had no connector, to be glowing from the magic of both the books and the voices of the long-passed authors he read in that quiet area— the place where crickets sang and toads croaked and he couldn’t hear his parents’ endless fighting, cursing, and carrying on.
As an adult, Maddox, now a writer himself, only found places like these in moments and reveries.
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