Microcosms 100

WOW! Microcosms 100! I can hardly believe it. Who knew we could make it this long? We wouldn’t be here without you fine folks, and I want you to know how much we appreciate everyone’s continued support and participation. It really means a lot.

I’ve been giving this lots of thought over the last few weeks.

My first idea was to center the post around the number “100”. I thought of centuries, money, the metric system, but not enough to make a whole post out of it.

It also turns out lots of interesting things also happened on 1 December in recent history… Ford started the assembly line in 1913 (more than 100 years ago!), Rosa Parks was arrested in 1955, and Michael Jackson’s album Thriller was released in 1982.

But I really wanted to do a throwback to Microcosms 1, wherein we paid homage to some of the contests that had come before us, the loss of which some of us are still recovering from (for those new to the game: Flash Friday by Rebekah Postupak, Three Line Thursdays by Grace Black, and Micro Bookends by David Borrowdale); after all, we wouldn’t be here without them, and what better way to see how far we’ve come? Oh, my! The days when we only had six options to choose from, and you could only write 100-word stories. Do you miss those days?

In the end, I decided, well, that I just couldn’t decide – so I decided to do them all! I’ve also included an alien because… why not? With that in mind, we’ll have a mixed bag of sorts today, which I’m just fine with because I think variety is one of the things that we do best here. 🙂

***Special challenge*** Create a story using only 100 words – just like it was for the first Microcosms! I can’t promise this will help you in any way, as I’m not judging. But it’s definitely a challenge to write in 100 words, so I hope you’ll try!

I’ve also included the “Your Choice” option once again. If you do use/choose the “Your Choice” option, please specify what it is that you’ve chosen.



(If YOU have an idea for a future contest and would like to be guest host, please contact us.)


Our contest this week begins with THREE things: character, setting and genre.

We spun, and our three elements are – character: Person Named Rebekah, setting: Spaceship, and genre: Western. Hahahahahaha. Have fun!

Remember, if you do use/choose the “Your Choice” option, please specify what it is that you’ve chosen.

Write a story using those OR feel free to click on the “Spin!” button, and the slot machine will come up with a new set – character, setting and genre. You can keep clicking until you have a set of elements that inspires you.

*** HEY! Remember to include which THREE elements you’re using AND a title for your entry ***

  • Person Named David
  • Biologist
  • Person Named Rebekah
  • Dragon
  • Person Named Grace
  • Poet
  • Scientist
  • Banker
  • Civil Rights Leader
  • Factory Worker
  • Singer
  • Zombie
  • Werewolf
  • Alien
  • Your Choice!
  • Publishing House
  • Fishing Boat
  • Washington, DC
  • Cave
  • Rainy Day
  • Art Gallery
  • 2000s
  • 1900s
  • 1800s
  • 1700s
  • 1600s
  • 1500s
  • 1400s
  • Factory
  • Bus
  • Graveyard
  • Movie Theater
  • Spaceship
  • Your Choice!
  • Sci-Fi
  • Fantasy
  • Romance
  • Drama
  • Comedy
  • Poetry
  • Horror
  • Memoir
  • Crime
  • Steampunk
  • Western
  • Post-Apocalyptic
  • Historical
  • Alternate History
  • Fairy Tale
  • Choose Your Own Adventure
  • Your Choice!


Judging this week is MC 99 winner, Nancy Chenier.

All submissions should be a maximum of 300 words in length. You have until midnight, New York time (ET) to submit.

*** If you are new to Microcosms, remember to check out the full submission guidelines. ***

All being well, results will be posted on Monday.

Microcosms 101
Microcosms 99

149 thoughts on “Microcosms 100

    1. Looks like an option, Bill. You can accept the special challenge of 100 words or write a regular 300-word piece. If I’m wrong, someone will correct me!

      1. I believe that is what KM intended. However, 300 is the MAXIMUM word count. So whether you go for the 100 word challenge or write something longer, strictly speaking they both qualify as ‘regular 300 word pieces’. ( Jus’ sayin’… 😉 )

  1. More Beans?

    100 words
    Rebekah, Space Ship, Western

    The girl stared at the stack of plates, bean smears already hardening on the enamel.

    Across the plains, beyond the undulation of the hills, she could still see the herd’s dust cloud. Geoff had insisted she stay ranch-bound, help the cook, K.M. ‘Droving’s men’s work,’ he’d said.

    She sighed, went to pick the plates up when she sensed a stirring in the trees, felt as much as heard a hum of light. A craft hovered above, sleek and bullet-shaped, emitting a beam towards her.

    ‘Want a lift?’ a voice murmured.

    Rebekah nodded and stepped into the light.

      1. Cheers, John. I’m sure Microcosms will keep on going as long as you (and the other flashionistas) keep on submitting marvellous, evocative pieces like this.
        [ I’m not sure that anyone named Geoff would be guilty of such a blatant sexist remark though. 😉 ]

    1. Great story! Loved how you built up a scene of domestic ennui at the start. The dishes never really had a chance.

  2. Rebekah; Spaceship; Western
    Word Count: 100 words

    The Intelligent Life-form

    The alien leaned against his spaceship as he watched her hack away at the giant plant for which he had come to collect.
    When Rebekah leaned back to catch her breath, hatchet in hand, the horrid creature raised his pistol.
    “No breaks. Or you die.”
    She hacked again at the towering, prickly giant. But this time she had an idea. The oozing wound deepened with each swing, and after each she moved slightly to the right. The angle had to be exact.
    And with the one-hundredth swing, she brought it down.
    The alien stood little chance against the two-ton saguaro.

    Note: The saguaro is a species of cactus that can grow to be over 40 feet tall and can weigh over two tons. It is native to the Sonoran Desert in Arizona.

    1. Intelligent life-form indeed…and I guess the alien was smart, too. Really should have been smarter, though. Loved the story, thank you.

  3. character: Person Named Rebekah, setting: Spaceship, and genre: Western
    100 words

    That Morning, May 16, 1886

    Sundays, for most of her forty-three years, Rebekah would walk the two miles along the river’s edge to the spring at the base of Dunstan’s Mountain.

    In the deep pool, she would bathe.

    That Sunday, the sky exploded with light, a golden vessel shot down from the sun, and landed in the meadow adjoining the pool.

    “Well, bless me,“ Rebekah exclaimed. “In all my years…”

    He appeared suddenly. A man…yet not.

    “Do not fear me, Rebekah.”

    And she did not.

    “Earth is out of balance with the universe. Women must be equal.”

    “What can I do?”

    “You must lead, Rebekah.”

    1. Excellent story. Loved it. I like that idea of rebalance of the earth through a woman leading. Not just because I’m female, but because I think the only balance we get is when we value each other and work together.

  4. Alva Holland
    100 words
    David/Publishing House/Drama

    Pulp Fiction

    David missed the days when his wastepaper basket overflowed with discarded brainwaves, first drafts and pitches.

    Whole manuscripts, opening chapters, synopses, with author insecurities oozing from every bled word, reduced to scrunched-up future-pulp lives.

    For posterity, he kept one of the obsolete baskets in the office utility cupboard. In a moment of melancholy, he clicked Print on the latest disaster to hit his screen, watched the reams exit the printer, pulled the basket from the cupboard, balled up the sheets, tossing them one by one into the woven container.

    Inexplicably, David began to cry, his tears pulping the discarded paper.

    1. Stunning descriptive writing. The first two lines are perfect, and I have to say capture the scene excrutiatingly well. Beautiful story.

  5. Sian Brighal
    100 words
    A Person Named Grace/Art Gallery/Your Choice (memoir)

    Artists Live Forever Only in Name

    The floor is scuffed beneath the frame upon the wall, and the cushion on the pew before it has settled into a shape to fit weary watchers. The floor had been pristine when the picture was first hung, and now admirers stay long enough to warrant stuffed cotton comfort. How beloved the painting is. A simple painting of a young woman holding a beautiful pose, staring back with eyes like depthless seas into which many said they’d willingly drown. The artist had called it ‘Perfecting Grace’. She called it for love, and her old ocean eyes broke upon wrinkled cheeks.

    1. Gorgeous! Sian. A perfect flow of words. ‘…now admirers stay long enough to warrant stuffed cotton comfort.’
      Basically, you rock flash!

    2. I passed by a particular bench in a park several times when I was living in Germany. It was always occupied by one or sometimes several people. I sat down there one day and discovered why. I miss that bench.

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      1. Lots of benches round here, all carefully placed and beautifully dedicated. One nearby : Es ist später als du denkst. I’m not sure if it means move on, you got no time, or rest…you’ve done enough. But, I do think I know what you mean.

      2. Yes, sorry, I can read it…I’m just not sure if it’s meant as a caution or a reason to rest.

      3. Appreciate what you have while you have it. It’s later than you think. Kind of reminds me to tell those close to me that I love them even on normal days.

    3. Hooked me at the title. Lovely story and descriptions. Beautiful ending – The artist had called it ‘Perfecting Grace’. She called it for love, and her old ocean eyes broke upon wrinkled cheeks.

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  6. Arthur Unk
    Word Count 100
    Title: Wanted Dead or Alive

    Rebekah’s mind was swimming. Why was a gun pointed at her?

    A flash of orange-blue light from the stellar cruiser window signaled that the rift would soon close. If Tex Mahoney had dragged her a thousand light-years across the universe to die, she would kill him.

    “Give it up Grimm,” Tex’s gruff voice filled the space between them. “You got no place to go, and the way out is closing fast.”

    The tension finally broke as shaky fingers made irreversible decisions. Deadly beams were absorbed into the bulk-head above and the in the chest of the outlaw Evander Grimm.

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    1. An amazingly intense scene. I love the descriptions and the short, pertinent monologue, so reasonable and yet ignored. It’s lovely and complete, but I want to know more.

      1. Flash fiction is a pleasure for me because I have adult ADD and I often have trouble finishing things. One day I’ll finish a complete story 🙂

  7. Dragon/1400s/Alternate History
    Words: 295

    Europe, 1465 X
    The Dawn of Dragons X

    The Girl Who Told Lies

    As I was skulking around the back of a hen house to spy on a vegetable patch I felt, rather than saw someone, in the way of a knock on the head. I turned around to see a rather scowly-faced girl with two plaits in her hair wielding a small shovel. “Your face will stay that way if the wind changes,” I said. Her eyes widened in horror. “Ma!” she yelled. “There’s a man going to magick me!” and off she ran. Her mother appeared and looked frightened. It took me a while to assure her I didn’t mean any harm and I was not going to perform magic on her unruly little one. She looked almost disappointed. I explained to her that I needed a place for my potato plant to grow. She looked at me confused. “What’s a potato?” She asked. “You know, they grow in the ground. You eat them.” “Never heard ‘o that,” she said, but she graciously showed me her garden. There were vegetables of all kinds, but no potatoes. It would seem I had come to a time in history, when potatoes had not been discovered yet. I thanked her kindly and then I left.

    You know that this was the era that dragons became a popular notion, right? I can sort of explain that. The soldier bots arrived shortly after my departure with fire power blasting trees and what not, and happened to run into that same little brat I did. They asked for Dargon (Which is my name, by the way, pleased to meet you.) She heard Dragon and went off yelling that she had seen Dragons. The more she spoke about them the more she embroidered on the story, hence the dragon myth. Apologies for that.

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  8. Singer/Cave/ Historical
    Word count: 100

    Tribal Psalms

    The rhythmic stamping of feet rises to a crescendo and only the earth beneath his feet hears. He sings when he is joyful. He sings when he mourns. Music cries a rain of his tears into the earth. He sings the stories of his people. He is the tribe’s Imbongi, the composer who sings to the chief in his cave. David used to sing to Saul. Music speaks. It is alive. It lifts his spirit and wraps him in love. His hips begin to sway and his arms extend outwards, inviting the world in. Bringing life in. Always, he sings.

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    1. A beautiful story. I especially love the last sequence from ‘Music speaks.’ It feels like it’s stirring, gaining momentum, taking over.

  9. @PunyFingers
    Factory Worker/1900s/Comedy
    100 words
    Title: End of first shift

    The security guard, John, scours diligently the pockets, lunch boxes and bags of the workers at the end of the first shift at the shampoo factory.

    “What’s up, my boy?” He raises an eyebrow and extracts a tiny box tied with a satin ribbon from young Steve’s sling bag.

    “I’m going straight to her to propose.” Steve says, red suffusing his close-shaven face.

    “Lucky dog. You don’t need these now.” John winks, pulls out a pack of condoms and pockets it.

    He smooths his salt-and-pepper mustache and motions Steve to move forward.

    Steve gives a thumbs up and scurries along.

  10. Prompts: Person Named Rebekah, Spaceship, Romance
    Words: 100
    Twitter: @lizzynim


    She knew not how long she had been drifting, her craft lifeless, her engines dead. The air was getting colder, the food supplies were running low. Her emergency beacon had stopped transmitting days ago, its battery finally dying. Rebekah stared out the frosted window and saw only a void, with scattered points of light that watched her, unblinking and impassive.

    Then one star flared, momentarily blinding her. There was a clang, and her airlock door was thrown open. A man flew in and took her in his arms.

    “How did you find me?” she whispered.

    “I will always find you.”

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    1. Brilliant story. Love how you decribed the scene, outlining her growing despair and hopelessness. The ending was lovely.

  11. The Zombie on the Bus
    No one wants to sit beside her. Understandable. Undead, one of her ears hanging off, a flap of shoulder skin sagging to reveal meat and bone below. Someone gets up to open a window. She must stink of death. Folk work hard not to catch her eye. Shame. She could do with a mind-numbing conversation about weather or shopping or stuff on the news. She’s on her way to see Nan – who’d surely been the one to do the spell – to say ‘thanks, but no thanks’. Eternal sleep will be better than being the zombie on the bus.

    100 words
    Zombie – Bus – (I don’t get genres when I spin but … is it comedy?)

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    1. As Nick Knowles might say on ‘Who Dares Wins’: “Comedy… IS on the list!”
      Are zombies frequently found on the buses in Morecambe, Sal? No wonder you bought a bike…
      [ Shouldn’t that be #FleshDug? 😉 ]

    2. Hello again, Sal! I think it was you who tipped me off about Microcosms Fiction last year. I’m on around 45 entries or so now. Look what you started. When I visit Morecambe please don’t take me on a zombie bus trip. Great detail here. Trying to unsee!

    3. Excellent story! Loved it…great descriptions for a brilliant scene. I hope Nan is in a good mood and lets her sleep.

  12. Fuelling Banjos
    A.J. Walker

    Rebekah let out one long fart, she breathed it in always amazed that it smelled like roses. Still, she pushed the metal bowl away. Perhaps she’d had enough beans for the day.

    The fire flared and Drogon, her grand white horse, wafted her tail wildly and tried to edge upwind of the makeshift camp, finding it difficult with a tangled tether. It was the same every evening. Drogon was sure her diet was more varied than Rebekah’s – and she only ate grasses!

    As Drogon relaxed she farted good and hard and the happy two laughed or brayed to each other. The best team in the Sierra and they were running on gas.

    Dinner over it was time for some banjo tunes and Rebekah pulled out the battered instrument from a side saddle. A few scales, a couple of songs, a bottle of beer then bed. She loved these days away from the ranch.

    Her fingers were on fire as she rattled through the scales and she was looking forward to playing a couple of her most fun tracks like, ‘Shelly loves it in the hayrick’ and ‘Bean Bottom Blues’. Drogon felt it was going to be another long night.

    She was just about to launch into her normal warm up tune (‘A Moo Cow Does What A Moo Cow Wants To (Until the Barbecue)’) when out of the starry sky a spaceship came down and hovered above them.

    Drogon farted again and realised how bloated she’d been, whilst Rebekah just screamed: ‘Noooo! Not again.’

    Sure enough it was George who popped out of the door.

    ‘I’ve told you one hundred times, Rebekah. You’re not to inflict your banjo on the world.’

    The alien snatched the instrument then threw it onto the fire.

    ‘Ah heck, Georgie! You’re no fun at all.’

    WC: 300
    Rebekah/ Spaceship/ Western
    Didn’t Spin!

    1. I can honestly say this is the first ‘farting’ story I’ve ever read, AJ. And on a spaceship, in the Wild West. (The story, not me.) Oh yes!

    2. Intriguing story. Love the flashes of humour, and the pure enjoyment of the moment. Shame it had to end. I read Georgie and George Formby popped into my head…if anyone were to be an alien, then…..

  13. Prompts – Grace/ Cave/ Historical

    Title – The Cave of Doom and the Three Wise Men

    Word count – 100

    Spelunking through caves shouldn’t take too long Grace thought, this is my tenth time. A few turns in and she was lost. Her busy mind and multitasking always got her in trouble.

    Her ex-husband always told her if she only put that phone down, turn the tv off, or sat at the dinner table things may have worked.

    She remembered times with her father half hearing stories because she was too busy to listen.

    The third memory was with her grandpa ten stitches and a told you so later after taking a spill on the cement.

    Why didn’t I listen?

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    1. Nice one, JK! Again, I’m hoping that lots of these 100-word stories will be expanded. So much scope here.

      1. Thank you, Alva! I agree! So many great ones like to see more to them or longer or versions.

  14. Plot deviation

    Elements: werewolf, publishing house, fairy tale

    Word count: 100 (challenge)


    Unread proofs lurked on old oak desks awaiting the fresh eyes of morning. The moon’s soft beam picked out the one remaining worker. Her golden curls tumbled across the pages as she devoured the story within but it left her hungry. The tale was too short. She picked up another. This was too hard, too improbable, too many long words like lupophobia and lycanthrope. Reject, she scribbled across it. Another book. This was just right, but she never got to the end. The moon rose higher and a howl shattered the silence of the building. Goldilocks padded to the door.

    1. Needless to say there were a couple of words I had to look up the meaning of as I read this. Love this intricate tale in 100 words, Steph. Goldilocks rocks!

    2. Love the twist on what Goldilocks was fussing over and the moon rising…and Goldilocks is padding. Excellent story.

  15. Biologist/Cave/Horror

    Sarracenia’s Revenge

    The putrid stench ripped through the air. Josie sat smiling, joyous with her find. A flower which bloomed once a year for 20 minutes. The stench leeched through the air replacing the oxygen. Josie breathed deeply. Her lungs started closing. The enlarged flower began to feast on her. I arrived in the early evening. A faint death scent lingered in the air. I saw a note. “Don’t stay too long and run when you smell….” The scrawl had stopped. What happened? The flower grimaced at me with crimson lips. I didn’t have to wonder any more. I inched away slowly.

  16. @stellakateT
    Rebekah / spaceship / western
    100 words

    All That Glitters Isn’t Gold

    Rebekah sashayed into the saloon, the sound of spurs jingling like an orchestra of testosterone. Looking down at her ample bosom, she had chosen her outfit well. Shape shifting suited her.

    She scanned their brains in the blink of an eye. The old guy at the end of the bar had gold. He had visualised it as she’d walked in. She needed gold to recharge her spaceship; she’d shifted its shape into a horse. It was tethered outside trying to neigh convincingly. Once she’d got the gold she’d probably nuke this place. It stunk of beer, sweat and dead men.

    1. So all this time away from Microcosms you’ve been on a punctuation course, eh, Stella? Spoiled my fun… 🙁
      But some great lines in this to make up for that. Bravissima!

      1. Geoff, its this PC of mine! it keeps putting semi colons in and saying ‘Do you really want to write that?” 🙂 don’t worry I’m sure i’ll be back to normal soon!

    2. So many great lines in so few lines, Stella! Excellent.
      ‘… an orchestra of testosterone.’
      ‘shape-shifting suited her.’
      Great job.

  17. Hi! I’m new here, though some of the regulars know me…

    Rebekah / Spaceship / Western
    100 words


    The weird track had led Rebekah to a creek she hadn’t visited since she was a little girl and her father accompanied her.

    The old Navajo warrior had always been different. He taught his mixed-race daughter everything he knew. Rebekah had finally understood he missed her mother, and he had no other child: she was his legacy.

    He had taught her to be ready for anything, yet this track simply disappeared into thin air!

    Then Rebekah banged her head against something metallic. She stretched her arm and touched an invisible wall.

    “Worry not,” a voice said. “We come in peace.”

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    1. Yay! Great to see you here, Vicente. Hope you’ll become a regular. I love these 100-word snippets of tales that have so much more to give. Well done.

    2. Hello Vicente 🙂 . Nice to see you. Lovely story…a reunion and a legacy coming into their own. A hopeful beginning.

  18. Person named Rebekah | Spaceship | Western
    Nicolette Stephens
    97 Words

    Showdown at High Noon

    It was Rebekah who first realised that the crippled ships could be more useful than rusting ornaments among the tumbleweed.

    One by one, we turned the craft into way-stations for our migrating herds. In the desert heat, the alien craft provided shelter and sustenance for hoof-weary beasts.

    We never considered there would be more out there, or that they’d come looking for them.

    The battle might have ended differently, but for their love of glorified history, cowboys and re-enactment.

    They challenged us to a duel at high noon.
    They never figured that we’d have the faster draw.

    1. Excellent story. I love how much information you implied, helping to build up the scene and mood. The ending is super.

  19. Banker; Bus; Poetry
    289 words because I was in a poetic mood: Go Figure

    Troy Tipple-The Banker on Wheels

    Troy Tipple was a Banker,
    He loved the feel of gold
    And on his fleshy fingers,
    A notch for every mortgage sold.
    He was also a bit of a wanker,
    Or so I have been told,
    And that assessment lingers
    As we approach the final road.

    And as we sometimes do, I hanker
    To be slightly poetically bold,
    And offer up a stinger,
    A rebuke of sorts to hold.

    Troy Tipple was a loner,
    An entrepreneurial guy
    With a taste for travel
    Somewhat on the sly.
    “What the country needs,” he said,
    “and trust me, I never lie,
    is a banking vehicle
    a bus-bank to serve the working guy.”

    And as we do, I hanker
    To be slightly poetically bold,
    And offer up a stinger,
    A rebuke of sorts to hold.

    Troy bought a discount Greyhound,
    A pretty good deal I’m told,
    And financed by some back-room guys,
    Out to the highway, he rolled.
    Over time he could be found,
    In every nook and knoll,
    Just a simple jolly banker
    With a shady serpentines soul.

    And as we sometimes do, I hanker
    To be slightly poetically bold,
    And offer up a stinger,
    A rebuke of sorts to hold.

    Though one might think him bent,
    A rogue of several folds,
    Sheets and crevices of deceit,
    Layers of muck and mould,
    He did provide a service;
    For that we should not scold,
    And fed the machine of commerce,
    As all the years unrolled.

    And though I used to hanker
    To be slightly poetically bold,
    I no longer offer up a stinger,
    And tire of rebukes to hold.

    Troy Tipple was no saint,
    More a sinner, as are we all,
    And we all bear the taint
    Of fiscal lives in furious freefall.

    1. Ah, this is brilliant, Bill. I don’t know why I feel it should be put to music, with The Rascal Flatts singing. And the sticky end – too close to the truth!

    2. Yes, it does have a song feel about it…some ballad. Brilliant poem, and a harsh warning and observation.

  20. In Which A Possessed Can Of Beans Explodes, Contributing To The Gaiety Of Nations
    @geofflepard 294 words
    Timothy whistled. Not much of a tune and no real power but a definite whistle. Lori Perchance opened the Health & Safety box extracting the Rod and the Staff and headed for the shortbread tin. She caught a glimpse of Timothy holding a vibrating can.
    “It’s a PNR. Boisterous too,” he hissed as his knuckles whitened.
    “What’s in the can?”
    “Beans; always causes the little buggers to conflagrate.”
    “How long we got?”
    Timothy held the can a little closer. “Five minutes.”
    “Ok. Push it here.” Lori held the Rod and Staff over the can while Timothy moved a shortbread as close as he dared.
    While they waited, Lori said, “Management say they’ll get the exorcists in. The last possession was a turning point.”
    “Oh? Careful, the seam is splitting.”
    “Yeah. Noted. It was a rebarbative PND.”
    Timothy nodded knowingly. “A Person Named David? Tricky one that. What was the filling?”
    “Artichoke soup. In under 100 words he evoked a flatulence reflux in the foreman. Poor love; it’s been Bovril and nettle poultices all week.”
    The can had begun to dissolve. Lori started to incant while Timothy knelt down and pushed more shortbread at the ooze. In moments a spectral redhead, manically grinning and banshee wailing the Hills of Shenandoah flashed out of the sauce and grabbed a biscuit. Then a second.
    Before the banshee could wail them to death, the controlling Rod and the elevating Staff enveloped the PNR. Still smoking and chewing on the shortbread the PNR was dragged away. As she left, Lori called back. “You hear about the Redditch factory? They had a Person Named Geoff last month.”
    “Gosh. How’d they deal with him?”
    “They let loose a couple of compound gerunds and didn’t know which way to turn. Utterly bemused.”

    1. More flatulence! What is it about this week’s competition? I was looking for the hidden gas prompt! Laugh-out-loud mayhem here, Geoff.

  21. Space Rush
    by Stephen Shirres (@The_Red_Fleece)
    A 100 word Western Tale about Rebekah and Spaceships (which should be a name of a band!)

    A cry of joy echoes of over the Great Plains. Rebekah turns to the source of the sound. Re-adjusting her Stetson, she takes another mouthful of water.
    Coughing roars now fill the landscape. A final bark becomes a hum. Rebekah watches the black arrowhead rise into the large yellow sun. The symbol of death is now the same as untold wealth. For a moment it hovers before thundering over her head. Another winner of the Roswell Space Rush. That’ll be her one day. It has to be. She picks up her spade and gets back to work.

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    1. Yes! to the band name, Stephen.
      ‘The symbol of death is now the same as untold wealth.’ Cracking line!

  22. Geoff Holme
    100 words (challenged accepted)
    Person Named Rebekah; Spaceship; Western

    Everyone’s A Critic

    One o’ these days, Jedediah, ah’ll cut you up ‘n’ feed yer flesh to the dawgs, you ornery varmint!”

    “Lordy, Rebekah, you’d argue with uh cigar store injun.”

    “Ah dun tol’ yer uh thousand times: don’t never tell me how uh book ends!”

    “But uh big ol’ flying saucer comin’ down frum the sky ‘n’ whiskin’ off the damsel in distress is dumb enough fer twins!”

    “Sez you! You don’t know uh widget frum uh whangdoodle! Whenever you happen to pass by my house, ah’d sure appreciate it!”


    “*Shoot! Ah’ll never unnerstand wimmin, iffen ah live to be uh hundred!*”

  23. @firdausp
    (100 words)
    Astronaut/ soup/ sci-fi


    I’d heard about ‘landing in the soup’, but now I was living it. Thankfully the soup was just warm. I fought through the thick liquid, it kept sucking me in. It was difficult to see through my helmet visor with all the glob. Grabbing a curly noodle, I hooked it onto the edge of the bowl, pulling myself up. Struggling to sit in my cumbersome spacesuit, I watched my tiny spaceship sink.

    Destination reached.
    Year: 3017

    Damn, I took the wrong wormhole home.

    “Mom, there’s a bug in my soup,”
    “Send it back to the restaurant.”

    I started to pixellate.

      1. Done. Great to see you back here, Firdaus.
        This reminds me of a low-tech, black and white sci-fi drama on TV when I was just a kid. An alien spaceship had contacted Earth and was being guided into an airfield; but the aliens were horrified to see giant writhing monsters when they landed. The air traffic controller was totally perplexed. He ran outside in the rain to look for the spaceship… and crushed it underfoot in the mud and worms.

      2. Thanks Geoff. That sounds like an interesting tale, haha it’s getting cold and i was having soup and out this came. 🙂

  24. Person named Rebekah | Spaceship | Western
    Eilise Norris
    100 words

    They call it “the spaceship” and she doesn’t know why. All that corrugated iron propped together like a crumpled shirt for an outhouse. Maybe it’s because so many people come out making less sense than before. Rebekhah said it made the world soft, the birds weren’t screaming anymore, that she sat for the first time since the baby, not slack, not a fortress.

    Who knows what they’re selling inside? She sees the customers smiling as they leave and saddle up. Dust reddens her boots and she twists the ring on her finger. Just once, just a try. Out of this prickling heat.

    1. Wonderful imagery here, Eilise.
      ‘All that corrugated iron propped together like a crumpled shirt for an outhouse.’

      1. Thanks Alva 🙂 I saw Microcosms mentioned on your Twitter and I’d been meaning to give it a try.

      1. Thanks, Geoff. I found the elements quite a challenge so glad to hear they worked.

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