100-Word Stories

NPN LIVE: Sleigh Rider Elect to Address Snow Globe, by Michael Talledes

5/12/2020

The North Pole reports 25 COVID-19 cases including the jolly man himself—SANTA CLAUS!

We now go live to The Candy Cane Office where the Sleigh Rider Elect is to address the snow globe.

“My fellow believers. Front-line elves are working around the clock to complete Christmas list wishes. Presents will face delays as Santa’s reindeers are subject to global travel bans. This Christmas is different.”

“Obby the Pine Cone Ornament” pauses, holding the hopes of viewers by his hook.

“As Sleigh Rider Elect, I concede… This year, YOU—the believers, will deliver peace and happiness to all. Merry Christmas!

1 Comment

Zoom With a View, by Sally Arkinstall

5/12/2020

3 Comments

Empty bottles and pizza boxes remind me that I haven’t been outside since I was made redundant.

I iron the front of my shirt; cut the back so the buttons meet.

I re-arrange the room, turn the computer towards the corner, squeeze myself onto the chair. I’m a picture of professionalism. Ordered, calm and prepared.

I look beyond the interviewer into my room; he smiles. I take a deep breath and begin to speak.

The screen reveals what I’ve overlooked. The mirror behind me, perfectly reflecting my ingenuity, and all I’ve worked to hide. I persevere, the job is mine.

3 Comments

The Generous Hand, by Anamika Dey

5/12/2020

4 Comments

"Help me fill the 'Santa's Bag'," somebody clipped a notice outside the bag.
"Bless you," a generous man replied and filled the bag without showing his face.
Men dressed in dark suits, women clad in beautiful dresses and children with colourful dresses were waiting at the entrance of the lane. Santa dropped the gifts. Earlier, he watched the generous man walked to the other side of the road. Santa followed him, walked in silence down a winding gravel path. Looking at the sky, his tears came out to see the glinted face of Jesus on a blue star!

4 Comments

Cleaning Out My Files – Forgotten Present, by F. Spencer Loomis

5/12/2020

0 Comments

My wife says those books I have from the 1960’s got to go. Most were history or topics that the young thought crucial then. In the pile is a Christmas book my parents gave me as a child. It was originally published in 1906. It’s outdated as it suggested rubbing snow on someone to keep them from freezing. I re-wrote it for my child to update it and I shared it with a friend 20 years ago. I’ll share it again this year with someone as most are staying at home due to Coronavirus with just those close to them.

0 Comments

A Very Covid Christmas, by Sandra James

5/12/2020

12 Comments

Rumours quickly spread. Santa and the elves were among the fatalities of Covid-19. Feasible, considering their age… they were in the high risk group.

Although saddened, parents secretly rejoiced. No need to max out credit cards to add even more ‘stuff’, likely to be only played with once or twice considering the volume their offspring had already accumulated.

Christmas commercialism ceased. Modest celebrations ensued. The world, the environment and humanity were better for it.

Ho, ho, ho… as if that would happen!

12 Comments

The Story of a Grief Odyssey, by Steven Bruce

5/12/2020

3 Comments

It was not the midnight rain rumbling through the dark house that kept him awake.

How could her best friend place artificial flowers on the casket?

He vacated her armchair and staggered to the old staircase. A handful of moonlight illuminated the landing. He swore his wife whispered come to bed, sweetheart.

Impossible, too much spiced rum.

Half-way up the stairs, an exposed tack pierced his foot, forcing him onto his knees.

After the unexpected jolt of agony, he picked himself up, and limped, onward, to the room where her floral perfume lingered like precious memories of a lost lover.

3 Comments

The Baptism, by Clarisse Gamblin

4/12/2020

4 Comments

Emily had waited a long time for this, when she would finally see jealousy wash over Holly’s face. The jealousy that she herself had experienced so often. But now the tables were turned; Emily had a better job, husband, and today a child, newly baptized.
“Congratulations,” Holly said with none of the enviousness that Emily had hoped for.
Emily’s stomach felt hollow, suddenly, but she smiled anyway. “Thanks.”
Maybe once the child was older, she thought as Holly walked away. Maybe once he was in school, winning awards, or once he had a job and house and a child…

4 Comments

Hook, Line and Sinker, by Kim Favors

4/12/2020

4 Comments

Yet another on-demand dinner.

“Bringing the boss. He’s a trophy fisherman. Find the freshest largemouth bass. Maybe a wine reduction sauce. Be creative — I want that promotion.”

Wifey rushes to prepare the feast.

The men arrive to Helen Reddy’s “I am Woman” sung by a wall-mounted Big Mouth Billy Bass. Accompanying is a huge cello, its male musician leering at wifey: Her thong reveals shapely buttocks atop red waders.

The wine reduction? A cheap red in split-apart plastic bobbers.

For the main course wifey dangles frozen divorce papers from a rod.

“Reel in this, you cold fish.”

4 Comments

Molly's First Christmas Alone, by Meryl Stacey Hulber

4/12/2020

3 Comments

Molly opened the narrow window and fed the Robin. Watched it fly away to distant lands. Just as she wished for. Closing the window she shut out the thoughts. Reading the Christmas card, she cried. It was a big world out there and the furthest she had ever got was Islington in London. Molly knew she would be here forever.
She had to be thankful though. Imagine if she lived in Texas, USA, just like her friend who’d sent the card. She’d have been given the death penalty too. Instead she had tinsel wrapped around the Holloway Prison window bars.

3 Comments

The Christmas Bugaboo, by Linda Hibbin

4/12/2020

3 Comments

Dead of night. I crept downstairs, inched open the living room door, unprepared for what I saw reflected in the mirror just inside. A towering, threatening bugaboo!
I fled upstairs heart in my mouth. I had broken mum’s cardinal rule, ‘Never be tempted to cheat.’ For the first time in my life I had felt compelled to peek.
Next morning, she gave me one of her ‘looks!’ Reading me like a book. Did she hear my intake of breath as she threw open the door and there, to my brother’s delight, stood a wigwam in the centre of the room!

3 Comments

Christmas Time Flies, by Bill Engleson

4/12/2020

1 Comment

“Tell me again,” she whispers. “Please.”
Her breath is hot. I glance at the alarm…2:00 am.
I’m definitely aroused.
“Not that. Later. You know…”
I do.
Crazy making, eh!
Maybe I was five. Christmas Eve. Parents in the kitchen. Drinking. Yukking up a storm. Swapping stories about their lives.
Dad’s on the prairies.
Mom’s in the mountains.
Hard lives.
I didn’t know it then.
They’re having a rare old time.
Holiday memories.
Snowed in.
Making music.
Singing.
The oddest thing.
I’m there with them.
Their memories are my Christmas memories.
From that year on, I am always there with them.

1 Comment

The Heartfelt Christmas Wish, by Peggy Gerber

4/12/2020

11 Comments

This was Danny’s second Christmas in foster care, and although the Greene family was wonderful, his one Christmas wish was to live with his mother.

At his weekly visitation, his mom said, “Danny, I have a special Christmas gift for you.”

Danny sighed, “Okay Mom,” expecting to be disappointed.

On Christmas afternoon the doorbell rang, and Danny was shocked to see his mother. She said, “The Greene’s invited me for dinner. Open your present.”

Tears spilled out of Danny’s eyes as he stared at the ninety day sober chip. His mom said, “ I’m finally getting help. We’ll be okay.”

11 Comments

On the Road in Tenby (Wales), by Doug Jacquier

4/12/2020

2 Comments

At the Buccaneer Pub, inside the walls of the old town, I’m drinking with ancients like myself, pretending to be interested in rugby, while they pretend to be interested in cricket, but neither of us fakes their distrust of Royals. Although it must be said that the man in the top hat and overalls, feeding his bar-stool-perched water spaniel some crisps and Guinness, is a little less harsh than his mates. He would allow them to take their own lives come the revolution. ‘Your round, convict lad,’ smiles Top Hat, ‘and mine next if the dog thinks you’re funny.”

2 Comments

The Long Commute Ahead, by Jim Bartlett

4/12/2020

19 Comments

With a last wink at his wife, Martha, Nick slips out the door, ready for his long commute to work. For whatever reason the winter seems colder this year, the snow a little deeper. Maybe it’s just his take, after all, it hasn’t been the best of years. He’s been lucky, though, his crew stayed safe and virus-free. Plus, they didn’t get caught up in the crazy politics. Either could have shut his shop down. Couldn’t have that, there’s too much at stake.

“How are we lookin’?” he asks his foreman, stepping off the porch.

“Sleigh’s loaded and ready, Santa.”

19 Comments

Mother of the Groom, by Coco Jane

4/12/2020

4 Comments

“Are you going to cry during the ceremony?” a guest asked Joann before her son’s wedding.

Joann smiled and nodded. “Well, I cried at Jenny’s, so I’ll probably cry at Eric’s too.” The guest smiled knowingly.

Her husband, Jerry, shook his head. He put his arm around Joann and said, “Aw, you’ll be fine. We’ll both be fine. Eric is a man. It’s different with men.” He nodded confidently.

The music was beautiful. The flowers were lovely. As Eric and Sarah recited their vows, Joann reached into her purse, took out a tissue, and handed it to Jerry.

4 Comments

The Home Stretch, by Russell Conover

4/12/2020

4 Comments

Jane shivered, clenching her arms, as she tried to avoid the brutal cold and wind of December. She was trying to maintain her daily walking habit, but this frigid air wasn't making things any easier.

She considered turning around and going home. However, she had to admit the crisp air was refreshing. The sun blanketing her felt soothing, too. Surely she could tough this out for the last part of her stroll.

She picked up her pace, anticipating the fire and hot chocolate awaiting her in her sanctuary. Comfort awaited. The prize at home would make this coldness worth it.

4 Comments

When December Comes, by Yola M. Caecenary

4/12/2020

8 Comments

I always have this inexplicable sad feeling whenever I enter December even though I don’t even know what to be sad about.

Perhaps because there's no other month comes after December for the on-going year; that December will wrap everything up; the joy, the sorrow, the finding, the losing, the ups, the downs, and they will become memories soon. Gone like a watercourse, flowing; like a wind, blowing; never coming back.

Saying goodbye is not my strength. With tears or without, no one can’t tell the difference. I just carry this unidentified feeling through the December, echoed in the heart.

8 Comments

The Snowy Day by Pamela Kennedy

4/12/2020

15 Comments

She was fascinated watching the snow fall cloaking the cabin with a fluffy blanket. The proud buck stood perfectly still. Crystals shimmered upon the evergreens as flurries fell upon the field. First a snow bank here, then there. Over and over again the scene changed, yet it remained the same. The repetition wasn't boring, in fact, it was mesmerizing.

Clotilde loved seeing the sparkle in her daughter's eyes and enjoyed the sounds of her gleeful giggles.

"Anya, please put the snow globe down. Let's get ready to go outside and play in the real snow."

15 Comments

Rising, by Angela Carlton

4/12/2020

9 Comments

Mother was quiet when she was released from the hospital again, till she sat at her piano. As I inched toward her, I studied her fingers sliding over the cool keys, the way she tilted her head, swayed. I studied her, finding courage to hum along. I didn’t think of her as lost, hollow-eyed, with that, please-find-me look. I didn't think of how she’d prayed-prayed to a God that failed her. I didn’t think of anything, but one woman’s voice, and a girl’s rising up. We were reaching for something higher, my mother and me. And we were in tune.

9 Comments

The Last Christmas, by Mary Wallace

4/12/2020

17 Comments

Kneeling in church, Peter paid homage to the first Christmas. Such a gentle beginning. A star, a stable, a baby.

He glanced around at the empty pews; at the fear on the faces of those few parishioners, who had braved streets filled with corpses under blackened skies, to offer up one last prayer.

But it was too late for prayer. It was too late for heaven to intervene in a man made hell.

It was too late for masks and vaccines or for diplomacy and weapon disarmament.

Too late for peace talks and world cooperation.

It was all too late.

17 Comments

The Farthing Tree, by Sue Clayton

4/12/2020

18 Comments

“Over ‘ere ladies and gents,” the vendor spruiks, bowing and scraping before well-heeled gentry enticing them to purchase lush Christmas trees.

A street urchin, pinched cheeks chapped by the bitter cold, gazes wistfully at the snow-covered trees.

“Please, sir, ‘ow much is that one?” She points to a woeful spindly specimen.

“Ow much ‘ave you got?”

“Nobbut a farthing, sir,” the urchin offers her brown coin.

“That’ll not fill my pouch,” the vendor growls, but takes her proffered coin.

“God bless you, sir.” She cradles her Christmas gift.

Snowflakes drip from the farthing tree’s branches…or are they tears of joy.

18 Comments

A Piece of Vengeance, by Ed N. White

4/12/2020

11 Comments

He was a frustrated man. Soured by his job, his love life, his receding hairline. His dog refused to learn any tricks. He was mad at the world, and he would show them—damn skippy he would show them.

Not merely a piecemeal revenge, this would be the big bang. If he did it right, frustration would grip the community.

The afternoon crowd had thinned. He slipped into the library lobby, past the desk, and headed to the corner room in the back.

Inside the jigsaw puzzle room, he removed one piece from each of more than two hundred boxes.

11 Comments

Christmas Mirror, by Guy Fletcher

4/12/2020

4 Comments

Sylvia stared out of her lounge window as the Christmas Eve sky darkened. She was remembering Christmases from the past in the same house, joyful occasions but today just memories.
She slowly climbed the stairs and peered into the bedroom mirror from the soft tomb of her bed. Suddenly Arthur appeared in the mirror massaging her world-weary shoulders.
"You won't be alone this Christmas, my love," he seemed to say softly.
Her husband vanished. Was it really him? For Sylvia it was...which is all that really mattered.

4 Comments

Every Second Thursday, by Barbara Gliddon

4/12/2020

2 Comments

I always looked forward to it.
My mother, the pragmatist, advised “well’ done you, remember don’t use it all up put some aside.”
“It’s useful.”
“It is that.”
A concession from my mother, who rarely admitted to such feelings.
“It’s my upbringing” she said.
Once.
My mother’s gone now. She declined treatment politely.
“No need for rudeness”
A pragmatist always.
She left me a legacy, the one about the dignity that comes with independence.
And every fortnight I am reminded of her and her and her modest ways and the way she didn’t stop me looking forward to payday.

2 Comments

Pocket-sized Sunshine, by Bill Diamond

4/12/2020

6 Comments

It was unseasonably late for the dreary, Spring snowstorm.

People trudging into the diner were sodden and depressed. They huddled within themselves with little conversation and no smiles.

A young mother entered and released her son onto the floor, “Careful, Jack.” The toddler was anything but careful. He sped about testing his newfound and wobbly mobility. Jack’s eyes shone and he squealed with delight at all the wonders. He bounced off the large chairs and laughed at eye contact. Then, raced back for a morsel from his mother.

The mood lifted notwithstanding the blizzard.

Jack frolicked undeterred by his tumor.

6 Comments

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