This week sees the penultimate round of my latest challenge series. Almost at the 100-word mark, this week please could you send me your 90-word stories?
Here are last week’s brilliant 80-word reads:
Keith Channing‘s story will bring a smile to your face:
The alien arrived on the surface to take soil samples. Surveys showed that the planet was habitable, although no sign of life had been found.
As the alien dug up some soil and put it in a collecting bag, a group of local residents appeared from below ground and rushed toward it, brandishing weapons.
“Beam me up, Scotty. The natives are unfriendly,” the alien said urgently into a small hand-held device.
“Aye-aye, Captain. Right away,” came the reply.
Jason Moody sent in two highly atmospheric stories:
1) This was horrible. Nobody was saying anything, just staring. I knew what I wanted to say, but I hadn’t the nerve. Did they know already? How could they? Oh God, this felt shitty. This would crush them. It nearly killed my parents.
Say it. Get it out. Once it’s out, it’s done.
This was going to suck.
“Guys..”
Here goes.
“I’ve got leukaemia.”
Ashen faces, frozen. Amanda buried her face in her hands, her body jerking almost rhythmically.
I knew it.
2) As caretaker, Frank always enjoyed having the school to himself at night. Teachers and students had all gone home. Frank switched off the last light in the art room and made for the door. It was then he heard a muffled cough coming from the supplies cupboard.
He walked over.
“You know what they say about curiosity?” said a woman’s voice.
He turned to face a woman, dressed all in black and holding a knife. She smiled.
“Two’s company.”
George Le Pard sent in an explosion of the senses:
The red hat
Many things triggered Felicity’s tears. Grief is like that. A flash of a Blue Iris. The snatch of coffee and cinnamon. A waft of net curtains. The tang of lemon drizzle cake. A scratchy Moon River. Two years gone and they wouldn’t stop. Then, one day, in the cable car out of Wellington, to meet Colin at the Botanical Gardens, she saw the lady in the red cloche hat. Her mother, stooping as she walked. And this time Felicity smiled.
Ayo Oboro‘s story will draw you in:
Nadine sat on the beach looking at the waves. They were small compared to the size of the waves tossing and turning in her head. Her brown eyes stared into the distance. There was nothing to see but the waves, no surfer, no swimmer; she was alone on the beach.
“Why? Why?”
And the waves inside Nadine rolled and frothed. Her feet itched to walk so she got up and walked; walking to the water’s edge she stopped.
“Come! Come!”
Jasdeep Kaur‘s story will have you feeling for this poor child:
Waylaid
I could not help whining, even though Mom told a million times not to, but it feels horrifying to be lost.
Exhausted of running and screaming, I threw myself on the ground when I felt a hand on my shoulder.
“O’ lil one…you look hungry. Want freshly baked cakes?”
Hungry…yes, I was.
I held her finger as she took me to a big oven, where her smile turned into a growl.
“Gretel thought she finished me, but she was wrong…”
Esther Chilton 
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