This is the last opportunity for you to take up the challenge in my latest series. This week, we reach the magical 100-word mark, so please send me your 100-word stories. You’ll have a little longer than usual as my Thursday challenge day falls on Christmas Day and New Year’s Day, so the next challenge will take place on Thursday 8th January. That’s ages away so no excuses for not having a go!
Here are last week’s 90-word stories:
Keith Channing opted for a poem this week, in his words, ‘With a nod to Lewis Carrol’:
’Twas late at night in the monastery;
And the monks were all in bed.
At half past twelve, when doctor came,
His mind was filled with dread
Because, you see, it was all so quiet
He thought that they were dead
He opened up the medic’s bag
He’d left there for safe keeping
He had to do it silently
To stop the thing from beeping
He hoped and prayed that he would find
They all were simply sleeping
But now my ninety words are done
To bed, myself, I’m creeping.
Ayo Oboro created an intriguing story:
Petra clapped her hands and the maid ran into the room. She knelt before Petra, “Your Highness?”
“Take that fabric to the King’s tailor for alteration. Wait and bring it back.”
“Yes, your Highness.”
As she made to leave, Petra said over her shoulder, “Call me, Joseph.”
“Your Highness?” the maid asked quizzically.
“Are you deaf?”
The maid picked up the fabric and scurried out the door.
“Joseph, have you given any further thought to my request?”
“Your highness,I am unable to grant the request.”
“Unable?” Petra laughed. “Then you will go to the gallows.”
Enjoy George Le Pard‘s clever story:
Burn victim
Blank. Like a canvas. Needing some other medium to give it – him? her? character. Not flat, not devoid of contours. A bare hillside, scraped by storms. And not smooth but rutted, ploughed by life. Pitted as if by incessant hail. And over it all a seared rawness, a newness that both deterred and gave hope. A place to start with no preconceptions, nothing requiring compromise. He stood back, the artist, a glinting scalpel in one hand. A tragedy to be turned to triumph. ‘Let’s start with the nose, shall we?’
Jasdeep Kaur‘s storytelling always leaves you with something to think about:
Unshakable Roots
Life changes with every minute, day, and year; so do we!
My innocent eyes once used to look at the torrent in the grown-up eyes, the silent grudges, the devious words, scornful sniggers, and wonder, “Why,” only till I started following the same path. I never realized when I scuppered my soul and stood in unison with iniquity.
But as I sit in my present, turning the pages of my life, I realize the importance of the roots; the unshakable roots that make us stand upright in the blustery tempests.
Esther Chilton 
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