#100WW - Oct 1, 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!
3 thoughts on “#100WW – Oct 1, 2025”
The Tormentoring Tablelamp
Everything’s the same – the bed; the book-shelf; even the lamp!
I hear Krish, my nephew, chuckling that night while reading out a love-letter from an admirer.
“I’m this lamp spreading The Light of Love all around…..”
He shredded the letter under the nightlamp later!
Krish died young.
***
Having stepped into his dark, dingy room after ages, I can still hear his laughter; find the lamp on the table.
I saunter across to bring the lamp back to life.
The anguish in my heart is unbearable.
“What’s the point? He won’t be back.” I tell myself before pressing the switch off.
The end
The Truth
‘Does the light bothers you?’ He asks after I turned away. I can’t I tell him I’m better at fumbling in the dark than I will ever be with exposing my desires to the light.
It’s a sin, isn’t it, this heating of my body when I lay next to him? A guilt I can never atone for if seen.
All that reaching and touching … Oh, to be able to show myself in this way; to give and receive is more than I can bare even though it is exactly what I want.
So I lied, ‘Yes, it does.’
SUSPICION
The desk lamp Darren’s parents flashed in their child’s face reminded the anxious eleven-year-old of the black and white noir films he would stay up watching with his grandparents before they passed away.
Wide-eyed, staring at the light source, the kid thought he heard his parents’ voices from the lamp.
“We know what you did last night! Confess,” the voices from the beacon uttered.
As visions of various cop shows flashed in the kid’s mind, he saw that the beam looked like a body, neck twisted, staring accusatorily at the boy.
Then, he realized nobody had said a word.
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