One Hundred-Word Wonders is a writing challenge that highlights how stories can shine even when they’re very short. In the world of micro-fiction, writers create whole tales using only a handful of sentences.
These tiny stories prove how much can be said with very few words, surprising readers with the depth and feeling packed into just a hundred words. How can a story truly come alive in such a small space? Let’s dive in and find out.
This year, we’re shaking things up a bit with our word prompts. Instead of the usual themes or random selections, every prompt will come directly from movie titles. It’s a fresh way to spark creativity and see stories and ideas from angles you might not expect.
Whether you’re a fan of classics, new releases, or hidden gems, something exciting awaits everyone. This month, we have a Stanley Kubrick movie, based on the book, Dream Story by Arthur Schnitzler.
Today’s prompt is:
EYES WIDE SHUT
Write a story, poem, or creative non-fiction piece using exactly 100 words. The title doesn’t count toward the word limit. To make sure your work is exactly 100 words, you can use WordCounter or any writing software you prefer.
Copy and paste your 100-word piece, along with its title, into a comment below. If you want, feel free to share it on your own Substack site or Substack Notes, and include a link back to this page.
If a response touches you, don’t hesitate to tap the little hearts in the comment section.
There’s no deadline for these prompts.
You’ll find my own response below.
Fractured Reality
In a dark time, the eye begins to see.—Theodore Roethke
For: Alex Pretti. Renee Nicole Good. Keith Porter, Jr.
They say three lives
was justice served;
cold blood never spilled,
only stories told—
smooth lies wrapped
tight by those in power.
But videos burn
through their words,
showing what they
want hidden,
faces frozen
in final moments,
truth caught between
gunshots and silence.
They demand belief
in their version,
pressing doubt like
a weight on our chests.
But open eyes
don’t ever forget,
remembering
the cold,
the fear,
the heavy stillness
after the shots.
No fog of lies can
cover what we see,
what we know
deep inside—
truth burns stubborn,
breaking through,
even when
they want us blind.
Author's Note
Look for a new One Hundred-Word Wonders prompt every third Wednesday of the month.
Thanks very much for reading, subscribing, and sharing the stories, poetry, and essays in this space. If you like a story, poem, or essay, please click on the heart. Also if you are so moved, please leave a comment.
I discard my rose-colored lenses for pixelated CMOS photovoltaic chips to receive photons that penetrate firmly closed eyelids. Thus, visual data is filtered. Where some see leadership, I see bullying. Where some see genius, I see vainglory. Where some see patriotism, I see jingoism, solipsism, and one-upmanship. Where some see fact, I see confabulation. Where some see history, I can't read invisible ink. Where some see opportunity, I see exploitation, then discarding. Where some see enemies, I see us. Where some see theirs, I see ours no more. Where some see themselves in the mirror, I'm blinded by the tears.
Title: Follow the Data
I discard my rose-colored lenses for pixelated CMOS photovoltaic chips to receive photons that penetrate firmly closed eyelids. Thus, visual data is filtered. Where some see leadership, I see bullying. Where some see genius, I see vainglory. Where some see patriotism, I see jingoism, solipsism, and one-upmanship. Where some see fact, I see confabulation. Where some see history, I can't read invisible ink. Where some see opportunity, I see exploitation, then discarding. Where some see enemies, I see us. Where some see theirs, I see ours no more. Where some see themselves in the mirror, I'm blinded by the tears.
Eyes Never Can Shut Out . . .
I see it so clearly through my eyes and yet my mind does not want to look,
I can not stand what has come to confront me.
It is not right.
These retinas burn with images I must reject, deny, even destroy.
Nothing good can come from this despite the saying.
Despite a world of good.
Pupils dilated under the hot sun, denying functions of the biological body,
I can not stop the mirage painted on the desert floor,
Painted into my brain.
Eyelids burdened with the duty of a threshold as if hoping to monitor entrance.