100-word stories

The class had started 10 minutes ago and Jen was still in the dressing room lacing up her pointe shoes. She knew Dmitri didn’t like it when his dancers were late. It wasn’t her fault though. It was Johnny’s, her new boyfriend. 

For weeks he’s been pressing her to give up ballet classes so they can spend more time together. She knew that would never happen. Ballet was her passion. Being on the dance floor was the only place she truly felt free. And tonight she was going to go out there and soar among the stars.

Kelly and her golden retriever were walking along the beach one misty morning when they ran into a woman writing in the sand.

“What are you writing?” Kelly asked.

“When I mess up, I write it in the sand…” the woman began.

Kelly looked twice at the woman, then looked down at the sand. The sand read, “I slept with Marcia’s husba.”

“…then the waves come and wash all the sin away,” the woman said with a smile.

Jackie lay on her stomach, her face mashed into what used to be his pillow. She is certain she can still smell him, even though it’s been three weeks since he walked out.

Bastard! Nine months wasted. Nine months closer to being 30!

She rolls onto her back, wiping the tears from her eyes.

She remembers reading that time heals all wounds.

Such bullshit! Who makes this crap up?

She supposes there are people in the world who find comfort in such ridiculous sayings. Not her.

At the end of the bar sat a dog with a pint of Guinness in front of it.

What gives? Pete asked, nodding toward the dog.

Sammy leaned across the bar.

This guy comes in, Sammy whispered, and sits next to this girl. One minute they’re talking, the next minute he’s got his hands all over her.

Pete shot back his Jameson.

So she gets up, slaps him and shouts, You’re a dog! before storming out.

Next thing I know, I turn around and see this dog sitting in his seat.

She sat alone on a bench and looked out over the lake. Tall reeds swayed in the cool summer breeze.

She wondered whether Drake would show up. Drake was the name she gave to the mallard she’s been feeding for the past couple months. Lately, Drake hasn’t been around.

She then heard some rustling in the reeds and saw Drake waddle out.

Drake! Where have you been? 

Another duck appeared and nuzzled up to Drake.

Oh, I see. You have a new friend.

Just then a gentleman approached.

Excuse me, is this seat available?

She looked into his eyes.

Ben watched as the couple passed the camera back and forth, each one taking pictures of the other in front of the fountain.

“May I?” Ben asked, gesturing toward the camera.

The couple looked at each other and smiled in agreement.

Ready to take their picture, Ben suddenly paused.

“Danielle?” Ben asked.

The woman looked surprised. The couple exchanged glances.

“Yes,” she said.

“It’s Ben Mortensen. Dartmouth? Class of ’96?"

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I don’t know you.”

I’m not happy.

But you’re always happy.

It’s true. My mind and body default to happiness. I can’t explain it. Press the reset button on me and I’m happy again.

She amusingly searches his body for a reset button.

But that’s not to say that I don’t have moments of sadness. I do.

He takes a sip from his glass and looks her in the eyes.

I do feel sad at times, he said, his eyes glistening over.

I think I found it she says and reaches out to press his belly button.

He giggles.

She comes into the kitchen wrapped in a sheet, her bare feet slapping against the laminated floor.

“Hey,” he says, spreading jelly on his bagel.

“Hey,” she says back, still fuzzy with sleep.

“I’m planning on being sad today,” he tells her.

She takes a bite from his bagel.

“Why are you planning on being sad?” she asks.

“I don’t know. I haven’t been sad in a long time. I want to see how it feels again.“

“So weird.”

She sits down and rests her head on the kitchen table. She hears him sobbing.

Carl was busy working on his buzz when Suki jumped into his lap and curled up into a ball. It was only seconds after that she began purring, the sound of an idling suped up Camaro SS, Carl thought.

Scenario one:

She: You just don’t listen!

He: What do you mean I don’t listen? Of course, I listen! I’m, like, Mr. Listener. Captain All Ears! That’s who I am!

Scenario two:

She: You just don’t listen! Even your best friend Mark says you don’t listen.

He: Oh, even Mark says I don’t listen?! He says that, does he? What? So now you’re talking to Mark?

Scenario three:

She: What did I just say?

He: What?

She: See?

He: See what?! You didn’t say anything!

“I don’t know what to tell you, mate,” Rolly, the bartender, says. “Maybe she’s gone forgotten her days.”

“No,” says Alex, swirling his straw in his empty glass. “It’s always Mondays. She knows that. It’s been two months now.”

“Well, like I say,” Rolly says, gently, “maybe she's gone forgot.”

Alex drops his head into his hands and stares at the bar. His lips tighten as he shakes his head.

“Hey, mate!” Rolly says, “how ‘bout me buying you a round?”

After a short pause, Alex looks up.