#100WW - Sept 25, 2024
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!
2 thoughts on “#100WW – Sept 25”
Hiding to Be Found
She sat with her bare, alabaster legs clasped to her chest. A shiver ran through her as she traced the edges of a broken floorboard with her index finger.
He will find me, she thought. He always finds me.
But as the sky darkened and the shadows on the floor blended into night, she panicked.
The smell of dirt flooded her nose and choked her. The sound of her heart’s beating drowned out all other sounds.
She stared into the darkness and whispered his name.
A cold breath grazed her cheek as the beam of a flashlight illuminated the walls.
@sarahrosemcnamara
Once
Here is where we slept. Cold, but you held me tightly in your arms. I didn’t mind the gouged hardwood beneath us. Dips and pits are long familiar to me. You … you wanted something more than that for our one night even though we both knew nothing could ever make those hours enough.
So, instead of splintered floor boards, I ask you to remember the moonlight, a gauze curtain of light between us and the outside world. Forget the harsh rising of the sun that woke us — clinging to one another — too soon from our sweet, dreamy slumber.
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