100 Worder Three Pence Each

100 Worder

Gayle Beveridge

Three Pence Each

Flat Lemonade

He set three empty bottles on a counter he couldn’t see over. Each carried a three pence refundable deposit.

‘I’d like a Rocket Icy Pole please; from the bottle money.’ He spoke with confidence; he had rehearsed.

Old Clarence stared from beneath verandah eyebrows. ‘Where’d you get the bottles boy, your mother never buys soft drinks.’

‘A red one please.’

‘I reckon you stole those bottles from the crate out back. I reckon you’re a thief, boy.’ Old Clarence slammed his fist on the counter and one of the bottles toppled.

The boy watched it fall; then turned and ran.

  

About the author

Gayle loves her family, dogs, sunsets and chocolate. Her stories appear in anthologies, including Award Winning Australian Writing 2009 and 2012, Mosaic, The Umbrella’s Shade and Vegemite Whiskers. She has placed in Australian and international competitions and tweets very short stories on twitter @GayleBeveridge. More about Gayle at http://www.ficklefictioncom

100 Worder Dishing it Out

100 Worder

Helen Laycock

Dishing it Out

A mug of hot broth with a kick

Mary scooped a handful of gunk out of the waste disposal – onion skin, flaccid black lettuce, strings of carrot peel and a melded mush of cornflakes, all bound together with bluish mozzarella.

A bit like John's eyes.

            The blob sat heavy, like an overfed toad, in the palm of her Marigold and it

was with a significant amount of force that she bowled it into the pan.

            Thwack!

Having rubbed a potato around the toilet bowl, she chopped and added it,

then tipped in the water from the dying carnations.

Cheap. Just like Kiera.

John enjoyed his soup that evening.

About the author

Helen Laycock has written nine books for children as well as having put together two compilations of short stories and a collection of humorous poetry for adults. In addition, she has work included in an anthology produced by her online writing group. She has also had success in various competitions.

Check out her links:

Author Page on Amazon

Facebook Page

Follow her on Twitter

100 Worder Tribute

100 Worder

Roger Noons

Tribute

A large glass of Verdejo, from Rueda

Now in her late seventies, she has retained her beauty. Bunned, silky, silver hair; flawless skin untouched by chemicals other than moisturizer, covers majestically-formed bones. A finely proportioned figure, no hour glass, but balanced for poise and bearing. When she enters a room, the eyes of women as well as men follow her. When she smiles, the earth ceases its rotation, if only briefly. Her voice, now a trifle husky, still has enough eloquence and melody to remind me of all those years ago, when I would watch her singing, on a black and white, twelve inch television set.

About the author

Roger is a regular contributor to the CaféLit site and a couple of his stories have been selected for the Best of CaféLit 2012.

100 Worder If Only

100 Worder

Brian Lux

If Only

Irish Coffee

I’ve served this mansion for generations, and am still an object of appreciation, carefully polished so the lustre of my carefully matched wood glows.

      If only I could speak, what revelations could be revealed to the guests arranged round my perfect oval form. I listen to new conversations as another dinner party is in progress, but I can see as well as hear.

      Two arms surreptitiously descend and hands briefly link in an exchange of affection. Two legs slowly extend and feet entwine in a silent dance of passion.

      If only I could speak, because those two legs are male.

About the author

Brian Lux, well past the first flush of youth, realised a dream when Court of Foxes (8-12 years) was published in 2008, by Discovered Authors. He has written short stories in several genres with varying success, but gets his kicks from school workshops. He is the treasurer of Llandudno Writers, and leads a creative writing group for U3A

100 Worder Hot Air

100 Worder

Patsy Collins

Hot Air

Take away coffee

Ah! That’s good. I needed this cigarette. Had to work for it mind, struggling down all them stairs; it’ll be worse going up again. 'Course smokers must go outside even if, like now, it’s raining. There's no consideration.

All the fuss is just a lot of hot air. Forty a day have done me no harm. Nor Sonia. Having a lightweight baby actually made things better for her.

Shall I have another ciggie? I think I’ve got time. No, the disapproving nurse is calling me. Way people carry on you’d think I was to blame for my son’s chronic asthma.

About the author

Patsy Collins is a regular contributor to CaféLit and has been featured in The Best of annual. She has had several books published including novels and a collection of Patsy's short stories is available as an ebook here and at special low price: LINK

100 Worder The Bookseller

100 Worder

Susan Eames

The Bookseller

Bloody Mary

'What happened to your hands, buddy? What's your story?'

The bookseller's eyes flickered.

'Landmine was it? Tell me your story.'

'Why?'

'I can help you tell the world.'

'When Khmer Rouge start killing, world close eyes.'

'They tried to kill you?'

The bookseller frowned. 'You with your questions and well-fed stomach. Pocketful of dollars. You want to help? You too late. World too late. Family all gone in Killing Fields. I don't want your help.' He held out arms which ended in ruined purple stumps. 'I lose my family; my hands. But listen: I not broken! That my story, buddy.'

About the author

Susan Eames left England over twenty years ago to explore the world and dive its oceans. She has had travel articles and short fiction published on three continents. Until recently, Susan lived in Fiji, but is currently exploring new possibilities.

100 Worder Bare

100 Worder

Helen Laycock

Bare

A teacup empty but for dregs and a tidemark

Like puppets, shadows polka'd up the walls and across the table as the stumpy candle flickered in the jam jar, its veins spilling into a waxy puddle.

               Edward stared at the paper in front of him. It was dying. Parched, jaundiced and, undoubtedly, jaded, it curled self-consciously, like Eve covering her nudity.

               His pen reclined, nonplussed, in the criss-crossed cushion between thumb and forefinger.

Forty-three days he had sat like this. For forty-three days he had floated in the vacuous space inside his skull. A moth clicked against the glass. Swooped. Erupted. Still Edward was unable to write anything.

About the author

Helen Laycock has written nine books for children as well as having put together two compilations of short stories and a collection of humorous poetry for adults. In addition, she has work included in an anthology produced by her online writing group.

LINK

Several further pieces are due to be included in forthcoming publications as a result of competition success. This is her second 100-worder for CaféLit.