Micro stories of 100 words

These micro stories were created for writing practice, and are inspired by the 100 Words for 100 Days exercise. Each story is exactly 100 words.

Day 1: First love

Jake slouched against the wall behind the canteen. Mel watched him, her short dark hair falling across her face. “Do you want to kiss me?” she asked, blowing slate grey smoke from the Marlboro Light.

Jake blushed. “Uh…” he stammered.

“It’s a one time offer.” she whispered. Her dark eyes glittered and she opened her lips a little. Jake leaned towards her and tasted smoke. He coughed and fumbled for his inhaler.

Mel pulled away, an ugly sneer etched across her pretty face. Jake cringed, waiting for an insult that would define him for the rest of his teens.

“Loser.”

Day 2: Well paid

Terry did not enjoy his work. But the pay was very good and the hours fantastic: so few were necessary to do a good job. He chuckled as he considered the effort he’d made to complete this one. A minute to respond to the text, five minutes to get ready and check the location, another twenty to drive there and just two minutes to do the work. Terry looked at the limp body on the kitchen floor, dark blood congealing starkly on the white lino. “Five grand for half an hour.” he thought as he turned to leave. “Easy money.”

Day 3: Stalked #1

Pale moonlight settled on smashed furniture. Dark shadows crept up the walls. A child’s doll looked up through the ruined roof, its crushed face frozen in fake horror: mute witness to the deadly attack years before.

Kal stirred on her makeshift bed. Instantly alert, she snatched up her rifle and listened. What was that? A cool night breeze made the only sound, peaceful and comforting. Seconds passed. Then, at the edge of her senses, she heard it again: the distant low wail of a Stalker. Kal grabbed her supplies and ran to the door, one thought on her mind: Run.

Day 4: Bumble bee drama

It’s too hot.
I’m exhausted; I can’t go on.
No-one should work in this heat without a break.
If I make it back, someone will pay for this.
I think I’ll just rest here for a while.

How long have I been asleep?
I feel so weak, I can’t move.
I think it’s the end.

But wait, what’s this?
A sweet water drop.
And something pushing me on.

I drink. I rest.

When I awake, I feel restored.
I was sure I was dead.
I beat my wings and take to the sky.
I’m going home!
To sting my boss.

Day 5: Community vandalism

“No more Happy Pig!” boomed Greg as he raised his glass. His son Andy agreed. “Yeah, that pub had to go.” Greg nodded and looked thoughtful. “Of course we’ll be fined. But that’s nowt compared to the profits we’ll make on the flats.”

A deep rumbling could be felt in the floor. Without warning the front of the kitchen collapsed, leaving Greg and Andy staring at a large mechanical digger. It was driven by Dave Jones, the landlord of The Happy Pig. He shouted with glee as he inched the digger into the kitchen. “See how you like it, wankers!”

Day 6: Fearless

I sit on the broken wall looking at the pebbled beach. Rough waves crash on the shore as black clouds dash across the horizon. Distant thunder grumbles a warning: Soon.

“Come on, jump!” calls John from the shoreline.

I’m scared. It’s a long way down I think. I could break my leg. Or my neck! Images of hospital swim in my head.

I inch out further on the wall. This stuff is easy for him. He must think I’m a big baby. I push the thoughts away.

I look for a landing spot. There, that mound of pebbles.

I jump.

Day 7: Very purple prose

Sunlight floats through the canopy, dappling on the lush green woodland floor. Myriad trees yearn for the sky, the wind in their leaves sounding like waves on the shore. Up above in the canopy that hides this world, birds fill the air with their song, the bright trill of a warbler the loudest of all.

The trees part to reveal a glade, an open secret in the heart of the wood. A sea of bluebells stretches beyond sight, a breathtaking show of lilac and blue. The delicate flowers nod gently, painting a path to the unknown edge of the world.

Day 8: Alpha male

Phil lay there in agony. The shock of the pain shot through his body and he wailed like a lost child. His toes curled and his breath came in short bursts. His muscles spasmed and his arms lashed out. His balls shrank in protest and all but disappeared inside. “Holy fuck!” he screamed, writhing against the pain in his back which seemed to be on fire. His skin felt like it had been ripped away in great chunks.

“You big baby!” exclaimed the beautician. She rolled her eyes and prepared the next sticky strip. “Your hairy back won’t wax itself.”

Day 9: Only fools

All credit to Alex Hardy for the idea and speculated trademarks. Apologies for the bad pun.

“We’ve gotta break into digital, Rodders. The money’s there.” said Del.

“Digital? I’ve only got a CSE in Maths!” replied Rodney.

“Doesn’t matter. We just need a good idea!”

Rodney pondered the issue. Then his face lit up. “What about… Twitter, but for gerbils?”

“Gerbils? Don’t be a dipstick Rodney.”

“Nah, not actual gerbils. People would write for them.” said Rodney with a lopsided grin.

“Actually not a bad idea. People love pets. We’d call it… Twerbl. No, wait.” Del paused as he thought of another name. “Gerblr!”

“Yeah!” said Rodney with excitement. “This time next year we’ll be gerbillionaires!”

Day 10: Surely lost

Milo ran excitedly around the huddle of chairs. He held his toy plane as high as he could, swooping it up and down as he screamed engine noises. An old lady smiled at him.

“He’s a jolly lad!” she said to Milo’s mother sitting opposite.

Elaine smiled. “It’s his first time on a plane. He’s been excited for weeks.” She laughed at Milo playing pilot as an announcement sounded on the public address.

“Passengers for Oceanic Flight Eight-One-Five, please go to gate twelve.”

Elaine stood and smiled at the lady. “That’s us. Milo, come on. We’re going on a plane!”

Day 11: Stalked #2

Kal peered into the darkness. The ruined hut was situated at the edge of the wood, set back slightly from the mud track that wound its way into the trees. Moonlight played on the ground revealing puddles in old wheel ruts.

Kal strained her hearing to pinpoint the Stalker: nothing. Uncertain of where to run, she waited briefly, scratching her arms where the gel had started to peel. Shit! she thought. If that stuff comes off, it doesn’t matter where I run. That thing will smell me for miles. She looked around once more, sighed, and ran into the wood.

Day 12: Cowboy builder

The builder stood there laughing, gargantuan stomach falling over his too-tight shorts.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

“You’re hilarious.” He wiped his filthy hand on his shirt. “You want a flat patio.” He still seemed incredulous at my request.

I tried to suppress my annoyance. “That’s right. The main purpose of a patio is to be flat. Are you saying you can’t make a patio do what it’s supposed to?”

His stomach wobbled as he laughed again. “Not possible.”

I’d had enough. Every day had brought with it a new excuse. “OK,” I said. “You’re fired.”

He stopped laughing then.

Day 13: Helmet hedonist

I will always remember the first time I tried it. A neighbour had got me into it. He’d seen that I wasn’t very happy and wanted to help. Even today, thirty-odd years later, I remember the amazing feeling of euphoria. Getting to the top was one thing, but the drop over the other side was incredible: that feeling of complete freedom, of falling away and letting yourself go, uninhibited and at one with the world—it was a feeling I wanted again and again and I sought it out whenever I could.

That’s how I became addicted to mountain-biking.

Day 14: Choose life

“You can choose how you feel about this.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s not by choice that I feel this terrible.”

“Actually, it is. Why not choose not to feel terrible?”

“Don’t be silly. I can’t choose to feel better about it. My feelings aren’t choices. They just happen.”

“No, they don’t. Remember when you were young and cried for dropping an ice-cream? Mum made you feel better about it by making you think of something else. You chose to be distracted by what she said. It’s the same thing now.”

“Dropping some ice-cream isn’t the same as killing my husband.”

Day 15: No Man’s Sky

Geran’s planet-drop had not stopped the viper from following him. As he skimmed low over the surface, the enemy ship screamed into view. Geran cursed and adjusted his ship’s controls. The rain was falling hard now: he must rely on his instruments to plot an evasive move.

The viper looped around for a rear attack. If he let it get behind him, it was over. He’d die on this planet he’d discovered and his foe would claim universal salvage of the whole world. Not gonna happen he thought. Adjusting his course as fast as he could, he prepared to fight.

Day 16: New Horizons

Inspired by the flyby of Pluto by the New Horizons probe, July 2015.

In the vast cold darkness of space, a tiny probe speeds to its destination. Moving at thirty thousand miles per hour, the little messenger from Earth travels faster than any machine built before.

The probe readies itself for its first goal. Cameras train their mechanical eyes at Pluto, just eight thousand miles away. Pictures of the dwarf planet are recorded, stored and sent back home at the speed of light.

Task complete, the silver soul from a curious world has more to do. It flies beyond Pluto, racing silently through the void, seeking the unknown beauty hidden in perpetual night.

Day 17: Hideaway

“I can’t believe how tricky it is to get into this loft.”

Ten minutes into owning our new house and I was finding fault already.

“Look at this: The hatch doesn’t open properly, the ladder’s impossible to hook down, and once it is down, it’s too close to the sink. I have to climb over the loo. How do we get our boxes up there?” I sighed and looked up as Kay entered the bathroom.

“And to think, the husband played train sets up there.” Kay replied, raising an eyebrow.

I grinned then.

“He must have really hated his wife.”

Day 18: Bad tattoo

Shank swigged his beer. “You gotta see my awesome new tat, bro.” he drawled.

“Cool man, what did you get?” replied Cam. He lay on his back in the dusty grass, staring at his fingers.

Shank put down his beer. “It’s like this cool sun beaming out cosmic love rays, bro.”

“Cool, let’s see it then.”

“It’s on me back.” Shank grabbed his t-shirt and pulled it over his head. His pale white shoulders flashed in the sun. He turned his back to Cam. “Look man, that’s awesome right?”

“Dude, that’s the RSS symbol.” laughed Cam.

Shank’s face fell.

“Crap.”

Day 19: Legacy

Archivist Six-Seventy exhaled, the only sound within the white recovery chamber. She sent a neural message to the Archive. Digital archive for dead planet eight-four-nine-two now processed. One message recovered.

Voices of the Archive entered her head. She focused on Primary: One message from an entire planet? Are you sure?

Yes, she replied. Group-casting now.

Six-Seventy sent the message to the collective mind of the Archive. Three small words floated across their consciousness.

“I LOVE YOU.”

The Archive asked: Meaning?

Six-Seventy responded: Unknown. Analysis yields no meaning or value.

Primary replied: Acknowledged. Purge all data and process the next planet.

Day 20: Cheat

Tom swiped through the dating app. Not a single pretty face caught his eye.

“Whatcha doing?” said a voice next to him.

Oh my God, thought Tom as he saw her. Louise. Funny, smart, gorgeous; untouchable. Tom’s breath quickened and his stomach performed back-flips. He spotted her wedding ring. Louise sat down next to him, very close.

“Er, I’m looking for a date.” Tom’s face flushed as he caught her piercing gaze. So gorgeous, he thought.

Louise touched Tom’s arm gently. Her touch was electric and he flinched. Louise smiled and held his gaze.

“I’ll be your date.” she whispered.

Day 21: Stalked #3

The wood was sparse and Kal was cautious. She ran between scrawny trees, keeping the road to her right as a guide. She entered a small clearing where moonlight revealed scattered logs and stumps; loggers had worked here long ago.

Kal stopped as she heard something ahead, a strange mechanical yelp. From the shadows stepped the Stalker, impossible joints bending in awkward directions. Its vast dark eye spotted Kal and considered her. Peripheral eyes blinked and its deformed jaw clattered obscenely. It paused then rocked back on one leg and wailed.

Kal recognised the sound. It was calling for help.

Day 22: Stalked #4

No you don’t, thought Kal as she levelled her rifle and fired.

The bullet struck the Stalker but missed its target, the single large eye. Kal had hit what might be described as a shoulder, it was hard to tell. Instantly, the Stalker’s natural wooden armour shattered and re-grew, deforming its inexplicable appearance even more. It grunted with the shock of the impact and its too-many limbs flailed as it prepared to attack.

Kal fired another shot before the Stalker had time to react. This time she found her mark. The bullet pierced the creature’s vast dark eye and disappeared.

Day 23: Donation

The man on the doorstep was drenched. The unexpected summer rain had soaked through his clothes but he managed a broad smile as Tina opened the door.

“Hello,” he said brightly, “We’re collecting for the old-people’s home. Can you spare anything?”

“I’ve just the thing!” Tina replied, smiling. “Wait here, I’ll be back in a moment.”

Tina closed the front door and returned to the lounge. Her grand-father was sitting in his favourite chair, dropping his lunch all over the floor and swearing coarsely at the TV. “Hey Grandad,” Tina called. “Get your coat on. You’re going on a trip!”

Day 24: Cop-out

I sit at the desk looking out at the unfinished garden. Clouds fill the sky and cast a grey shroud over the town. Monday morning in the middle of a British summer rarely encourages a smile.

The computer is on, a blank page waits for my words. The cursor blinks, a thin grey line marking the start of a new idea, a new scene of just one hundred words. What was I thinking when I started this? One hundred scenes! I’m not even a quarter of the way there and already I struggle.

I breathe deeply and start to write.

Day 25: Mighty

Sam peered through the window of the tree-house. He could see Susie below, pacing about and shouting up at him.

“I wan’t to come up there and play!”

Sam stuck his tongue out at her.

“Can she come up?” said Mike, looking up from his video-game.

“No way man.” exclaimed Sam, “This tree-house isn’t for smelly girls.”

Sam looked out again but Susie had vanished. “Ha!” he squeaked, “She’s gone.”

Just then a loud sound could be heard and the tree shook. Mike leapt from his seat, shouting. “What’s that noise?”

Sam’s eyes were wide with disbelief.

“It’s a chainsaw.”

Day 26: Let it go

Ted peered into the gloom at the piles of boxes, untouched since moving to the house ten years ago. He read the carefully written label on each box: BOOKS, DVDs, VIDEO-GAMES.

Kay’s voice drifted up from below. “So, what can we sell?”

Ted looked at the boxes again, suddenly overwhelmed by a tumbling slideshow of memories. Slight tears pricked his eyes and he covered his face with his hands.

“Ted?” said Kay, “Did you hear me? What can we sell?”

Ted sighed and looked down at Kay.

“All of it,” he said after a pause. “All of it can go.”

Day 27: Killer punchline

“This doesn’t feel right.” said Terry, “He seemed so nice.”

Terry looked at the inert body of the old man who was now crumpled over the spotless kitchen table.

“We don’t ask questions, remember?” replied Barry as he flicked through the mail on the table. “Anyway, we need those documents.” As he sorted the letters, his expression changed. “Hang on. What’s the address for this hit?”

Terry looked at his phone. “Twelve, Lorna Road.” he stated. “Why?”

“This post,” said Barry gesturing at the mail, “It’s addressed to Twelve, Lorna Avenue.”

The hitmen stared at each other.

“Shit.” said Terry.

Day 28: Defining moments

“Matthew,” said the headmaster solemnly, “Your mother’s not very well and has been taken to hospital.”

I didn’t hear him. I felt sick and began to sob. Mr. Wright stopped talking and held my hand awkwardly.

“She’ll be OK,” he said, unconvinced.

I looked at him through sticky tears. “Is she going to die?”

“No Matthew, she’s not going to die. She’s just had… a bit of a funny turn.” he replied.

What’s a funny turn? I’d never heard the phrase before. But it wouldn’t be the last time I’d hear it. And it would always be said about mum.