Tag Archives: 100 words

Journey to the Core

Ajax Seven launched with a scream of drill bit tearing through surface crust. The Core was an estimated sixteen hours directly below, along the central axis of Ajax’s drill.

Seven hours into the trip the ship lurched violently and the drill shriek intensified by an order of magnitude.

“Stop it! Kill it, or the gears will grind themselves to dust without resistance,” Captain Gustafson ordered.

“Did we strike some sort of air pocket, sir? A steam vent?” asked Briggs.

Gustafson waited patiently for the fog around the forward cameras to clear.

“A worm. Coddling moth larvae are common in apples.”

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100 words. In response to this week’s Picture It & Write prompt:

Nirvana

I pull the car into your grandpa’s antique filling station, last bastion of civilization in the badlands of western Oklahoma. Horny-toad weather is begging me for some air conditioning.

After a fill-up, I hear the siren call of the Dr. Pepper machine. Just a quarter, prices from the last century, too. It dispenses twelve-ounce glass deposit bottles, something I had been sure was gone from the world forever.

Cold and wet explode against the back of my throat at the perfect temperature, and my knees buckle. That joyous hallelujah moment; my body has only rarely been so pleased with me.

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100 words. In response to this week’s Velvet Verbosity prompt: “Reverence.”

Pretty sharp

“Did you bring it?”

“Yes sir, exactly as you requested.

Cavendish placed the leather sheath on the table, drew the knife carefully, and placed it for inspection.

Metcalfe whistled. “I didn’t expect it to catch the light like that.”

“Yes sir. Dr. Koufax told me the light refraction is an implicit result of the crystal formation. The molecular lattice is unique, and not found in nature. It will hold a durable edge that’s one atom thick. It’s completely non-metallic, of course.”

Metcalfe nodded at the image of Our Great Leader climbing out of his private jet.

“No metal detectors, perfect.”

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100 words, inspired by this week’s Picture It & Write prompt:

No image attribution

 

Mirror world

“It doesn’t make any sense. They crossed through the gate in perfect health and comfort. Why would their bodies begin failing within hours?”

The Stereopticon displayed the result of Dr. Samuelson’s work on N-dimensional transformations—the press called it the “Mirror Universe.” The results of all robotic exploration, and every sort of preliminary testing that the team could think of demonstrated essentially what the theory had predicted: Another universe, identical to our own, but reflected.

Dr. Samovar showed Samuelson his own hand reflected in a pocket mirror.

“Chirality. Stereoisomers. Right- and left-handed molecules. You’ve got to bring them back, doctor!”

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Inspired by this week’s Picture It & Write prompt:

No image attribution.

The second civil war ended with a whimper

The high-tension power lines overhead charge the electrified barbed-wire barrier. From the fence hangs a very simple—and effective—warning for trespassers: “Warning! If you cross this fence, you will die!” It prominently features a “jolly roger” on a field of red.

The Thomkins Clan is deadly serious. In 2045, they successfully seceded from the United States, making it quite clear to the government that the Clan possessed the military firepower necessary to enforce their desire for independence.

Thanks to some mid-60s booster rocket plans and 3D printer technology—that is the Clan’s private ICBM silo, over in that cornfield.

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In response to this week’s Friday Fictioneers prompt:

PROMPT –© Marie Gail Stratford

I’m always chasing rainbows

“I don’t understand,” Doc said. “How could atmospheric conditions make you depressed?”

“There’s a rainbow over my house. It’s always there. The mountains block the air currents from the ocean. Tons of snow and mist, in the summer I have a rainbow.”

“Go on?”

“Happy little bluebirds fly over the rainbow, Doc. Dorothy wants to be somewhere over it. I had to live under it. There’s no way I can be happy here.”

“I still don’t see why?”

“It’s always overcast, every goddamned day. And Doc, don’t you remember your leprechaun stories? The pot of gold is at the end.”

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100 words. Inspired by this week’s Sunday Photo Fiction prompt:

No image attribution.

 

Pour some sugar on me

“Thank you for your patience, Mr. Morrison. You’ve been waiting quite a while, and I need to apologize. With so many to process, we’re a bit behind. I’m doing my best, but we’re understaffed right now, won’t you forgive me? Thank you.”

“Here comes the last bit, let me just hook up this hose. Turn this valve and voilà. Just what you needed sir, thick and syrupy, I’m sure you’ll be quite pleased. You’ll find it delightful, fruity, with just a hint of formaldehyde—our very finest vintage, sir, nothing but the best for you. Into your arteries, that’s right.”

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In response to this weed’s Friday Fictioneers prompt:

PHOTO PROMPT – © Madison Woods

Goddess of nature, God of frolic

Leafwhisper peered carefully around her shielding oak leaf, a watchful sentry against human children and other predators.

The journey across the vacant back yard was always a stressful one. Everything is, when you’re three inches tall.

Fart-Rocket, the Jones family terrier, yapped excitedly across the yard. He would be a formidable final obstacle. Leafwhisper waited patiently for her break.

A squirrel chittered—and Fart-Rocket streaked off like…yeah, that.

Leafwhisper took advantage of the distraction, and made a long, shallow dive for the bird feeder.

She cut the water of the faerie pool cleanly with an inaudible splash. Home at last!

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Inspired by this week’s Picture It & Write prompt:

Image found on Pinterest, linked to

 

 

Great time for Marguaritas

The colony ship dropped out of hyperspace and the ship’s artificial intelligence HARRY4000 released the crew from coldsleep as planned. Flight crew first, then the science specialist monkeys.

First on the agenda was analyzing the probe images from the terraforming robots. Several petabytes of accumulated readings awaited review, from the first robot landing right up to this moment.

Captain Johnson pulled up the first image.

“Looks like the robots did a good job setting up base camp. Snowdrifts, we’re going to need parkas.”

“No, Bill, see the temperature reading? Mean of 79°C, humidity zero—those drifts aren’t snow. That’s salt.”

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100 words. Inspired by this week’s Friday Fictioneers prompt:

PHOTO PROMPT – © Douglas M. MacIlroy

Bridging the past

This bridge is a balm for my soul. My quiet place, where I can come and watch the sunrise, where the spring breeze dances over the water and touches my hair and face with gentle fingertips just after dawn. This bridge is where I find sanctuary.

My morning jogs often bring me here—a tiny detour, just another five minutes of the day. The extra effort is worth it for the peace and solitude.

To the East is a different bridge, a darker shadow on the river. There’s evil lurking on that bridge which I avoid. My sister attempted flight.

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Inspired by this week’s Picture It & Write prompt:

by Gustav Johansson