Blog Archives

That Sinking Feeling, by Norman Marcotte

10/12/2018

Anna sank to the bottom. She held her breath as a survival reaction. Darkness surrounded the inside of the bag she was stuffed in. She pulled her hands with all her might in a vain attempt to free them. The rope was simply too tight.

When her husband’s fever had peaked, she had sent for help. The doctor never came. The herbal concoction she administered had little effect. Now her land would be passed on to her wicked cousin.

As consciousness left her, she thought, “Robert Friedman, I hope you burn in hell for accusing me of being a witch.”

Merriment, by Mark Reynolds

10/12/2018

I awaken, after sleeping very little, with an unavoidable sadness and dread. How can I meet their expecting eyes with mine, knowing their wishes are unfulfilled and it’s my fault; my own selfishness and immaturity costing me my job and the kids their Christmas.

I start down the stairs and suddenly hear shouts of joy and glee.

Confused, I step into a living room filled with presents. My wife looks to me in wonder. The kids are lost in merriment. With tears streaming down my face, I reach for a note which lies near the chimney.

“Merry Christmas from Santa.”

My Work is Done, by Richard Comerford

9/12/2018

My task to save the world is completed!
I time-skipped, hunted my quarry, stabbed him, faked his suicide.
I can return.
But should I check I have truly succeeded, make certain….?
I place-skip to the meeting-place. The revolutionaries are lounging on the grass, talking, drinking.
One sees me. “At last, there he is!” He peers into the dusk. “No!…..Who goes….?”
A tall man stands. “Peace, Peter. Judas could not keep his appointment tonight. This man is here in his place. Welcome, Brother.” He embraces me.
“Rabbi…..?”
He smiles. “Your work is done.”
From the gloom, the Temple guards close in.

The Snake, by Jeffrey Paolano

9/12/2018

Toddy puts his ball on the green in a regulation two strokes.
Brian follows.
Tom and Brad are on in three but close to the hole, well positioned.
Brian is away. He makes a good up, within two feet, a likely putt.
Toddy strikes next passing the cup by about three feet.
Tom drains his putt.
Brad puts his on the lip. It hangs so he taps.
Toddy carefully surveys his ball, the lay of the grass and the run.
He looks the putt over from side to side.
The longer he looks the worse the yips get.
He’s frizzled.

Two Words, by Henry Bladon

9/12/2018

Writers are odd.

The other side of the desk, Bill has a vacant look. His pen hovers in the air.
'You know Jack,' he says. 'I always considered myself a promiscuous writer.'

See what I mean?

'How so, Bill?' I say.
'Well, I'll write anything for any old publication. It never bothered me where as long as I had the work.'
'Well, it made you rich.'
'It did. Yet giving so much away by just inking two words is uncomfortable.'
'Even so, Bill, it's what you requested. And as your lawyer I have to witness you sign the divorce papers.'

Uncomfortable Color, by Robin LeeAnn

9/12/2018

When colorful lights shine on houses and trees fill up living rooms, a dark sadness takes over me. I can hide for hours, but hints of the holidays are everywhere. Extra wrapping paper is stuffed in trashcans. Money in pending from the bank and will be taken out soon after the turkey arrives. Cheerful music sings.

But the uncomfortable air shifts more and more. No one talks to me. Unfamiliar relatives ignore me. I wish for the wandering puppies to visit me. I count down the time. Five more hours until I leave.

Santa Bell Ringer, by Lisa Miller

9/12/2018

“Bless you and Merry Christmas, ho, ho, ho,” Santa says trying to sound jolly. Time to pack up and get the hell out of here, he thought.

Back home he undresses, climbing into bed after paying the night's hotel bill. Feeling guilty he vows he’ll pay it forward when he finds a real job. But his wife left last month - taking his kids.

Unable to sleep, he turns on the TV for noise. Then, grabs a beer. He laughs for thinking the Santa suit would give him the Spirit of Christmas. Instead, he decides to pray. Been, a while.

Points for Originality, by Richard Knight

8/12/2018

Ray turned in the mirror, admiring his ugly Christmas sweater.
It featured a drunk-looking Santa with one eye slightly lowered and an open mouth ready to burp. The color scheme was a hideous yellow and purple, and the best thing about it was the fact that he couldn’t lose this year’s “Ugly Christmas Sweater” competition at his job.
Nothing could be “uglier” than this!
Unfortunately, when he got to work, everybody had the same exact sweater.
Except for Gladys.
She ended up winning. Her sweater just said “Merry Fishmas!” with a picture of a bass on it.

Christmas Shopping, by Tikvah Feinstein

8/12/2018

The boy doesn’t notice the waif-like girl behind him. She is caught up in a moment of awe, a feeling she doesn’t understand, like the rapt attention she recalls at watching the naked baby birds in nests in trees, their gaping hungry beaks being fed.

That shared holy moment of giving and taking.

She is caught up in the miracle of what happens between people and birds, that life affirming connection between beings. She doesn’t even know the boy who elicits that response newly in her adolescent body.

Emma follows him into the warmth of the building.

Annual Trip to Wild Rose Choose and Cut, by Cheryl Dahlstrand

8/12/2018

The wreaths were displayed in a long u-shaped tent presided over by the wreath seller. I asked if I had picked a good one, as they all looked quite uniform. "Just a minute" he replied and walked over to select another wreath. "This one's better," he observed, handing me both. "Just heft them.” The wreath he had chosen was heavier. He smiled and nodded knowingly. "One of the girls made it," he explained. "They like to make wreaths so they spend more time puttin' them together. The guys don't like to. All they want to do is cut down trees."

Unredeemed, by Ian Fletcher

8/12/2018

Christmas Eve seemed a good time to return.

He passed ancient empty churches. A chapel had been converted into a bar and revelers poured in and out.

Pubs were packed and beer seemed to flow everywhere.

The streets were full of people visiting emporiums fronted by coloured lights and gaudy artificial trees. They exchanged money for things.

He noticed doorways where beggars sat ignored by passers-by. No one gave them the things they’d bought.

Occasionally someone dropped them a coin, but to Him they appeared to need more than money.

“This place cannot be redeemed,” He thought and vanished forever.

Who Wants a Christmas Kitten? by Fliss Zakaszewska

7/12/2018

The kitten shivered, bedraggled and forlorn on the bank, sleet feathering around him. His mother’d gone… he raised his little head, unfocussed eyes moving, nose sniffing to catch her scent. She’d been there one minute, licking him then he’d been thrown into a dark sack with his brothers and sisters.

Bumpety-bump, their mewling went unheard until light shone, and they were dropped into water. Scrambling out, the sack floated away carrying his siblings with it. Ice crept into his bones as he waited to die.

“Ho-ho-ho.” A white-gloved hand picked him up. “You survived? Come, little Santa-Claws. You’re safe now.”

Happy Factory! by John Cooper

7/12/2018

Just like last year, everything ran late.

The designs had taken an age to finalise, the mock ups had failed to perform anything like adequately and to cap it all, just as production was due to go into full swing; a flu outbreak had left the main production line idle for weeks.

It really was touch and go right to the end.

But as ever, when the big day came, everything ran like clockwork. The deliveries all got away on time and the senior elves gave a collective sigh of relief and swore it would definitely be better next year.

Here They Come A-Caroling, by Nicky Johnson

7/12/2018

The holiday season always was the highlight of Jenny’s year. Of the many merrymakings, she looked forward to the carolers the most.
The troop was rumored to be around town again. Last year’s performance was flawless; each member’s part was executed in pristine fashion.
Jenny opened the front door, beaming. “I was hoping you would return this year.” She offered a thermos of eggnog with paper cups. The carolers obliged.
Suitably, they opened with, Silent Night, for the tranquilizers would soon take effect. The caroling crooks truly were magnificent singers, but Jenny wasn’t having a repeat performance.

The Forgotten War, by J.J. Landry

7/12/2018

The snow fell heavily around me as I crawled between dead bodies, those killed and frozen to death. I’d been there for several months, fighting a ruthless enemy I’d never forget.

I was only nineteen, but remember it well. This damn sure wasn’t my older brother’s Marine Corps. His war was hot and tropical. Mine was a frozen hell.

I took a deep breath of cold mountain air, held it, and then exhaled. I aimed my M-1, squeezed the trigger. A young North Korean soldier in the distance collapsed into the red snow.

How could anyone have forgotten this war?

Green-Stuff Stuffing, by Lisa Miller

7/12/2018

My second Christmas-Eve dinner, cooking for the in-laws with all the trimmings. But it must be flawless this time. Last year the cat was nipped and knocked over the Christmas tree making a big mess. And I burned the flank steaks.

This year, my Mother-in-law insisted I use her oyster and spinach stuffing recipe for filling the turkey. And it was perfect. Saying grace, thankful, we finished our feast. Afterward, I stood up to make a toast when my glass slipped, spilling champagne. I further continued to spoil my image, talking with spinach — that dreaded green stuff in your teeth.

She’s Done Crying, by NT Franklin

7/12/2018

She wasn’t crying today. First day in years. All dolled up with makeup and wearing her fanciest dress, she was going somewhere. And she looked good, so good, that even her children smiled a little. Friends had been expecting this, and some stopped to see her. Daniel wasn’t there. He never was. His love for her was long gone. After being gone for fifteen years, even the kids didn’t care about him anymore.

It was time. A loud thump signaled the end. The latches sealed and locked the casket closed. The finality of it was unmistakable. She was done crying.

The Night Before Christmas, by Charles Boorman

7/12/2018

The outside temperature displayed on the digital weather station dropped another half degree, but the sounds from upstairs signalled rising tension: the high-pitched whine of a hairdryer, the staccato of frantic footsteps.

Shaved, showered and already wearing his boots, anorak, hat and gloves, he stood in the hallway and awaited his womenfolk. The bonhomie fuelled by two large medium sherry seeped from his pores with the sweat.

Rod the dog yawned and sighed in resignation as the minute-hand flicked relentlessly past the top of the hour. It was the night before Christmas and as usual they were late for dinner.

Making Christmas Great Again, by Gordon Lawrie

7/12/2018

The main thing about the new Santa Claus was that he was likely to deliver on his promises. None of this child-centred soppy romanticism. Out went the unaffordable train sets and overpriced high-heeled boots. From now on it would be Adults First: kids' presents could wait.

Rednecks loved him. This Santa fired all the reindeer, employed truckers instead, and built a wall between the USA and Lapland which the reindeer paid for. And kissing under the mistletoe? Hey, this guy didn't mess, he knew what to do!

Why did nobody think of using The Apprentice as a selection tool before?

Theme Park Nightmare, by David Erdey

6/12/2018

When Ronald asked what her happy place was he never expected this. The theme park poked at his psyche, extra frail this time of year. Chinese lanterns hanging down from the dark, tauntingly reminding him of the family Wongs that christmas so long ago. Further down the path was Santa’s hut. Outside sat a grinning elf. The second Ronald saw the dwarf, he wanted to kick him in the head. He reminded himself he was not responsible for the present nor the past. Ronald swallowed every bad memory, smiling, remembering: This was her happy place.

Dear Mr Claus, by Marjan Sierhuis

6/12/2018

Dear Mr. Claus

Regarding the full-time position of elf on Santa’s got news.ca, please find attached a copy of my resume for your consideration.

One of the first graduates of an accredited toy making college, I have l5 years of experience working in the toy shop of one of your large competitors, a certificate in team leading, one in time management and an elf of the year plaque.

I have been described as highly motivated and a team player.

If you would like to get in touch to discuss my application form and resume, you may contact me at:

[email protected]

Snow Day, by Lisa Miller

6/12/2018

5 a.m. Anna watches the snowflakes swirl around hitting the rooftops and blanketing the ground. Promising, a snow day.

Outside, she looks up at the gray clouds with wide eyes and snowy lashes, flurries of newly fallen snow bringing out her inner-child. Owning the day and nowhere to go! She falls back on the snow moving her arms up and down, legs side to side. Angel poses. Next, a snow fort when she sees little faces inside grinning ear-to-ear.

Frozen with a runny nose, she salts the porch. Then, shovels the powdery sidewalk into a snowman before starting her day.

Dutch, by Pamela Kennedy

6/12/2018

I read his thoughts, "How dare that bitch get a cookie bone and I get none!".

Ladybug was extremely happy, but Dutch's large brown eyes turned into cauldrons of indignation. His cheerful waging tail became a highly metered thumping drumstick.

Joy returned to his face with the sound of the refrigerator door opening. "That meatball is mine," he thought. As that little treat meant to be shared between him and me slipped from my fingers onto the floor, it was gobbled up by Dutch before I could even swear.

There were now two bitches in the house!

Leaves, by Pamela Kennedy

6/12/2018

It was the chitter chattering of crispy leaves sauntering along the sidewalk that made us more determined to move on. They unto themselves offered a bouquet of brilliant colors, appreciated by some, unnoticed by others.

Aren't we like those leaves, once budding then turning into a magnificent display of fruits and foliage. Still we refuse to be swept away. Instead we show the world we continue to have a worthy act to put on. But curtain calls come and though this performance is almost over, our voices can still be heard before we turn into dust.

A Christmas Miracle, by Guy Fletcher

6/12/2018

A menacing rain whipped into Jack, huddled into a damp sleeping bag, scant protection against the elements. The he heard the sweet sound of "Oh, Holy Night" emanating from the church opposite he used to regularly attend. Now all he wanted was money for another "fix". He drifted asleep.

"There are more important things than money," said a beautiful voice. "Follow me!"

He awoke and felt compelled to enter the church.

"Jack, you're coming home with us."

It was a couple he had once known well, a wonderful thing called hope re-entered his soul.

<<Previous

Forward>>

"Classic"100-WordStories﻿

Archives

"Classic"
100-Word
Stories