One Hundred-Word Wonders is a writing prompt that celebrates the marvel of storytelling in a concise form. Within the realm of micro-fiction, writers have mastered the art of crafting complete narratives in just a few sentences.
These bite-sized pieces should showcase the power of brevity, leaving readers in awe of the vast landscapes painted within a mere hundred words. So, how can a story be effectively told in such a limited space? Let's explore the possibilities together.
The word prompt and theme today are the same:
JOURNEY
Write in exactly 100 words, a story, poem, or creative non-fiction in any genre, using the prompt word, theme, or both. The 100-word count does not include the title. Please use WordCounter or your writing software to ensure your piece is exactly 100 words.
Place (copy and paste) your 100-word response to the prompt with its title in a comment below. If you’d like, publish on your own Substack site with a link back to this page.
Tap those little hearts on responses in the comment section, if you are moved to do so.
I sat on the deck on a worn wooden crate, gazing at the changing hues of the sea, from sapphire to cerulean, lost in contemplation.
Everything was as I remembered—the creaking ship, the scent of brine mingling with the ripe fruit in the cargo hold, the raucous cries of seagulls as they circled overhead, and the gentle lapping of waves against the hull whispering tales of ancient seafarers and hidden treasures. As I sat, I felt the weight of the years lift.
On the horizon, the islands ascended like emerald jewels, beckoning me with promises of adventure and discovery.
Author’s Note
Look for a new One Hundred-Word Wonders prompt every third Wednesday in a 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.
Celeste was a criminal. No less than if she knocked over banks.
Her business card said “Sherpa”, honest to God, but there wasn’t any snow on her boots. She purported to traffic in planes even higher than Nepal though her bona fides were markedly less substantial than the atmosphere up there among the yak.
Wes copped to all of this too late and pulled the plug.
Celeste allowed it had been a blessing to shepherd Wes on his journey of self-discovery.
“Journey? You need to trade in your Book of the Dead for a dictionary. I haven’t traveled an inch.”
Yours is beautiful. Here’s mine.
Short Haul
Celeste was a criminal. No less than if she knocked over banks.
Her business card said “Sherpa”, honest to God, but there wasn’t any snow on her boots. She purported to traffic in planes even higher than Nepal though her bona fides were markedly less substantial than the atmosphere up there among the yak.
Wes copped to all of this too late and pulled the plug.
Celeste allowed it had been a blessing to shepherd Wes on his journey of self-discovery.
“Journey? You need to trade in your Book of the Dead for a dictionary. I haven’t traveled an inch.”
Two Women Dancing: A Journey in 100 Steps
We set out. The road: a manuscript of lives.
You and I: present tense, imperfect aspect.
.
Your breath harmonizes with the wind.
I collect it in the spaces between my ribs.
.
Night unfolds its dark fabric. We walk.
Time: a shared burden, lighter for the carrying.
Our silence: heavy with unspoken languages.
.
Eyes meet. Suddenly: recognition.
Not of the path, but of you.
Unfolding: like a flower in reverse video,
human blossoming from stillness.
.
No traveler steps on the same path twice.
We say: No couple walks the same journey twice.
The voyage is not the road, but the continuous
translation of self into other, and back again.
.
In this motion, we find our stillness.