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Entries for the Micro Fiction Challenge 2022 and Drabble Activity 2024. |
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Short stories of 100 words exactly, written for the Micro Fiction Challenge, 2022, the Drabble Activity 2024, plus a few for my own benefit. |
| The Wisdom of the Owl Through chess, I once met a man whose hobby was falconry. Although he kept several birds of types you might expect, he also had a large and impressive owl that he did not use for falconry. I asked him why not. He replied that the bird was too stupid for that and I accepted this information without further thought. It was much later that I realised that this was nonsense. The bird was useless for falconry because it was nocturnal. It would have been like selecting your best skier to represent the country in the summer Olympics. Timing is everything. Word count: 100 For Microscopic Stories and The Bradbury. |
| Hamelin It’s true about the rats. And there’s a town in Germany called Hamelin. But the matter of the piper being dressed in a sort of two-tone outfit is a total fabrication. He did try to lead the children away as revenge for not being paid for his services. But the townsfolk rumbled him before he could get them hidden. Just in time, they headed him off at the pass. His punishment was much worse than being swindled out of his proper remuneration. I’ll not shock you with the details but would advise you never to sample Hamelin’s famous meat pies. Word count: 100 For Microscopic Stories and The Bradbury. |
| Thermopylae Again A boy was throwing stones at a tin can he’d set up in the empty lot. It was no more than a rusty and misshapen target balanced on the few bricks remaining of a wall that had long ago been demolished. Heat radiated from the stony ground as the sun beat unrelenting on the scene. The game was ended as the stone connected with the can, knocking it off its perch. It disappeared behind the wall. In exultation, the boy leapt to his feet, his arms raised in triumph. Behind him, hoplites in a Spartan phalanx joined in his celebration. Word count: 100 For Microscopic Stories and The Bradbury. |
| The Importance of Planning The tree gave very little protection against the rain. Standing right next to the trunk, I was less conspicuous but just as soaked as the small group of mourners by the grave. I watched as the coffin was lowered with handfuls of sodden earth to follow. There is something depressing about a funeral in the rain. It may be appropriate in that it sets the mood, but it still amounts to adding insult to injury. Is it not enough to lose a loved one? I promised myself that next time I would check the weather forecast before selecting a victim. Word count: 100 For Microscopic Stories and The Bradbury |
| Responsibility I told you that I can’t stand heights, that my will faints when on the edge, and my body longs to fling itself into the abyss. You never listen, do you, and you didn’t this time either. And still you push me right to the highest point, where the awareness of the void at my feet calls to me whether my eyes are open or not. “Don’t look down,” you say, as though that makes a difference. So it’s no wonder that I am seized by vertigo and, in clutching at your support, I sent you spinning to your death. Word count: 100 For The Bradbury 2026, Week 2 |
| Park Bench She was sitting on a park bench in the gathering twilight. Lost in thought, she gave no indication of leaving soon. I approached openly and gestured at the other end of the bench. She nodded in answer to my unspoken question. I sat down. I waited a while before opening the conversation. “It’s late to be in the park.” She looked at me. “Should I be worried?” “Perhaps,” I answered. “Bad things happen in the park at night.” “Are you one of them?” she asked. “No.” “But I might be.” She smiled and I saw the flash of her fangs. Word count: 100 For Intuey’s Newsfeed Challenge, September 2024 Prompt: Write a 100 word story. |
| Sniper Arnold could see the enemy, heavily camouflaged, creeping through the bushes towards his position. The nervous, surreptitious movement of foliage gave the guy away. Arnold barked out a challenge. “Halt! Who goes there?” The enemy froze into immediate immobility. Arnold aimed his rifle carefully at the silent shape. He squeezed the trigger. BANG! The head jerked but then continued to crawl forwards. “You’re dead,” shouted Arnold indignantly. “Missed,” came the answer. “Did not.” “It’s just a flesh wound.” Arnold sighed in frustration. “If you’re going to argue every time you get shot, I’ll find someone else to play with, Jimmy.” Word count: 100 For Drabble Activity 2024, Week 10 Prompt: Write a drabble that is a story (so it has a beginning, middle and end, and a conflict) and a work of fiction (so not a memoir or true tale). |
| Literary Frippery I remember H Rider Haggard, in the sixties thought a blackguard for writing books that were fun, as if that should never be done. I considered then the voice of that Irishman James Joyce, but most of Finnegan’s Wake was so dense it made my mind ache. I found refuge in Sir Conan Doyle, Sherlock Holmes and Doc Watson his foil ; George Orwell kept me from harm with his tale of the Animal Farm. But best of them all was Lewis. sharp, clear, never tortuous, and, though you will think me balmier, I am happy to be here in Narnia. Word count: 100 For Drabble Activity 2024, Week 9 Prompt: A rhyming poem of 100 words. |
| Every Breath You Take 1983. Jerry and his girlfriend, Stella, were talking music again. “I love that song by the Police, I’ll Be Watching You,” said Jerry. “You mean Every Breath You Take.” Stella paid attention to titles. “You sure? I thought it was I’ll Be Watching You.” “Evidently.” Stella was becoming used to these disagreements over titles. Jerry shrugged. “Okay, I know you’re always right. But the point is, do you like it? It’s so romantic.” “Yeah, pretty good. Not sure I’d want Sting to sing it to me though.” Jerry was quiet. He wasn’t sure he liked the idea of such competition. Word count: 100 First in a trio of related drabbles For Drabble Activity 2024, Week 8 Prompt: Write 3 drabbles related to one another, and yet each able to stand on their own. ––ooOoo—- I’ll Be Watching You 1993. Jerry and Stella, now married and relaxing in their apartment. The radio is playing softly in the background. Jerry reaches across and turns up the volume. “Hey listen, Stella. It’s that old song, I’ll Be Watching You.” Stella looks up from the book she’s reading. “It’s actually Every Breath You Take. But you’re right in a way - it should be called I’ll Be Watching You.” “Why?” “Well, it’s the words. They’re kinda creepy. It could be about stalking.” Jerry is quiet for a few moments, then, “Hmm, you might be right.” “You should know by now, I always am.” Word count: 100 Second in the trio For Drabble Activity 2024, Week 8 —-ooOoo—- Sting 2003 and Sting is being interviewed on the television. Both look to be in their fifties, although Sting is still tanned and fit. “So Sting, what about the controversial song?” “Which one is that?” Sting looks mildly interested. “Oh, you know, the one everyone thought was so romantic. And then somebody said it was creepy. Thought it was about a stalker.” “Ah, you mean Every Breath You Take.” Sting smiles wryly. “Yes, that’s it. So which is it, romantic or creepy?” “Think about it for a moment. The repeating words, ‘I’ll be watchin’ you.’ It was always about a stalker.” Word count: 100 Third in the trio For Drabble Activity, Week 8 —-ooOoo—- |
| Friendship Spurned Through my father, I came to love Staffordshire Bull Terriers. The only other breeds he ever owned were Bull Terriers and a lone Boxer. The Boxer, a female, was harmless and friendly. Her size made her appear as fierce as the tougher dogs my father preferred, however. This our local milkman found out one day. Our Boxer, in the mood for play, went lolloping after him and he went into full retreat, throwing milk bottles at her in terror as he ran. I was too young at the time to know that I should not find the sight immensely funny. Word count: 100 For Drabble Activity 2024, Week 7 Prompt: A non-fiction work. Essay, memoir, op-ed: creative nonfiction (not just a regurgitation of facts). |
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