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101 Word Short Stories
By David Berger
“I dunno, Pop,” Jesus said. “I’ve done my best, but they’re still sinning. What d’you think, Sis?” The Wholly Sprite looked up from writing a scroll. “I’ve said from the Creation: humans suck. The Noah Restart, the Moses Restart, the Buddha Restart, the Zoroaster, the Jerusalem. Now is just like all the other times. Recreate…
By Bob Schueler
Aliens land; strong, fast; kill by right hand chop to the neck. They show no emotion, but seem fascinated by ours. Most people die. They only spare singers, poets, comedians…like me. We become their pets; I share sitcoms and soaps with mine; it watches me laugh, touches my face, my tears. We go to improv;…
By Willow M.
Ping. My phone lights up on the counter. I ignore it. I can’t talk to Victoria again. I hear police sirens outside and know they’ve caught Victoria. I know I should call someone to bail her out, call in some favors to clean up this mess. But I’m suddenly just too tired. Victoria is guilty;…
“Ignorant girl,” they spat. That hurt worse than their slaps and pinches. So she snuck into their unused library and began devouring their books, tasting the sweetness of Shakespeare, the bitterness of Plath. Parts of the Bible were hard to digest, but she chewed every word save for the front matter, which she fed to…
By Kim Moes
Hiding from the hairy monster, little Lucy crouches behind the gazebo. Only twenty-two steps to the back door. Freedom! But the beast is fast. And hungry for the chase. Lucy scampers along the fence toward the house. This time, she makes it to the old oak. But the crackling leaves betray her, forcing Lucy back…
By Russ Lockwood
Wheelman Wally ran a finger over the front fender. “Nice car you got here.” “1928 Ford Model A Extra Special,” Bootlegger Bob replied. “Interested in driving? No questions asked?” “Yeah,” Wally said, calculating costs. “Pity if something happened to it.” “Whaddaya mean?” “Tires might get flat. Can’t move the moonshine,” Wally explained. “Brakes might fail.…
By Ian Willey
I was in the basement, gloves gripping the bar. Dad had just gone out. With no one spotting me, I knew this was stupid, but I could do it! ‘The Final Countdown’ was playing. I pushed up, exhaled, as two hundred pounds slammed down. One. Two. No three. I was spent. The bar pressed down…