June 12, 2024
photo prompt
100 word story
Inspired by the photo above, write something that will move us in exactly 100 words!
Also, if you have an X (Twitter) handle, include it below your submission. First-time comments will be held for moderation. Once approved, they will be posted automatically.
Rules Are Simple
- Exactly 100 words (title excluded)
- Give it a Title
- Submit in Comment Box
- One entry (per person) per week
when
A new prompt will 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
Fostering connections and healthy habits of creativity.
100 Word Wednesday
Write something that will move us! Tell an entire story with only 100 words. Share a story that begs to be read and reread!
#100WW Use the hashtags and share on social! #comelaydownink
We nominate for awards, including Best of The Net.
Alternatively, we also have a New Submission Form for 100-Word Stories. These submissions will all be considered for publication online and in our print mag.
You can submit only one story per month via the form. However, you can participate weekly here on our blog in addition to one monthly submission.
On the first Wednesday of each month, we will publish 2 selected 100 Word Stories (1 from submissions and 1 entry from the 100 Word Wednesday weekly prompt here on the blog.)
Read other entries and comment. This will be a positive forum for feedback.
9 thoughts on “100 Word Wednesday – June 12”
Should pensive cares be penciled prayers?
I sometimes use a stylus, but I speak them now, and AI casts the ASCIIs on a screen. My cares seen become recorded prayers.
A lesser thing, or more?
So many prayers—and cares—unwritten ones, are but a blurry image of a faith that sometimes has no edge.
And edges count,
I think,
in prayer.
Where are the edges of my faith?
AI throws up “and” for ” in” and misspells “there” for “their.”
My heart throws up my cares in err, uncertain of so many things.
Is even this blurred care, a prayer?
“Did you see the horses this morning?” she asked pointing to the yard. “So pretty. They aren’t there now, but I saw them.” she continued. I nod and smile back. I saw them earlier, three deer, a doe and two fawns.
Daddy walks in booming a cheery, “Hello, beautiful.” Mama frowns, holds a finger to her mouth, “Shhhh” she scolds,” the children are napping.” Daddy smiles sheepishly and takes her wrinkled, spotted hand. She smiles back, forgetting already her admonition.
And this is her fuzzy life. Living in the past. All her todays and tomorrows a blur of happy memories.
I love the sweetness of this; it’s a side you don’t always read about and an important one. Really Lovely!
Alone in this Strange Place
Rory was awakened by a familiar sound, opened his eyes to the murky lake swirling above him, and remembered he was alone in this strange place. Now fully awake, he placed his hands against the soft cool surface beneath him, sighed, and lifted himself up, stretching his arms toward the water above. Gently, he pushed his fingers through the rippling bottom of the lake, half wishing he could drown in its darkness. The silence was so heavy here, so pervasive. He missed Mabel. And then, he heard the sound again. The most beautiful sound in the world. Someone was singing.
@floweringink
Very imaginative. I didn’t see ytat coming just at first.
We Beetles
It’s always been a blur, this life we live in forest shadows mostly because we can’t find our way out of its dense underbrush; a ground mattress of branches and leaves we sleep upon come nightfall. When our vision becomes 20-20 and we can stand out into day’s warm sunlight, honey sweet before its rays get too hot. The heat, the heat, unbearable. We slink back into the shade, grateful for its many gifts: toadstool mushrooms we can sit upon while we listen to lichen stories about having once been wind-blown, lost. But, now, rooted here with us.
@folkheartpress
This is so Lovely, Karen!!!!
Ha, the life of a writer. Noticed a few typos. Sorry, folk!
Fairylike creatures. Lovely
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