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Ranson’s Beard

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poster: 100 words of fictionRanson’s beard was older than his daughter, the corporate attorney who’d moved to Oregon to get as far from him as North America allowed.

He wasn’t shaving without due consideration. He’d grown it the summer of Lillian’s pregnancy. He was teaching philosophy in Ohio, and working on his book. One day he stopped at a produce stand, and the be-whiskered farmer who sold him sweet corn provided the inspiration. Lillian never liked facial hair. Their divorce was as much about that as anything.

Ranson kept the beard all through his marriage to Samantha.

Now it was time for the razor.

I wrote this story for the 100 Word Challenge #378 at Velvet Verbosity.

Gerald the Underhanded

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Prince Gerald had an epiphany. Half-way unto the breach, he feigned a leg cramp. Thus, brave brother Rainer surged ahead and climbed the rubble-pile first, closely followed by a hundred men-at-arms.

Rainer tumbled down as fast, an arrow through the eye. The whispers began immediately. Later, the battle won, the castle carried, Gerald marveled at his insight. I will be king, he thought. And so he was. With Rainer’s bones interred and his widow warming the royal bed, the whispers grew.

“A king must rise above mere rumor,” Gerald said.

His reign was long, enlightened and generous; his name, immortal.

I wrote this story for the 100 Word Challenge #350 at Velvet Verbosity.

The Cross Roads

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Looks good, don’t he? Like he could sit up and tell a story. Ol’ Terry knew a few! He wanted to write, you know. No, I never saw him with the arm, either. Yeah. In the war. The Hürtgen Forest, 1944.  Same day he crossed paths with Hemingway. Sure, the author! Funny story. Terry’s hugging the ground and he looks up. There’s Hemingway standing by the road, tree-splinters flying everywhere. The guy next to Terry yells, “Get down, you crazy bastard!” A shell comes in, and boom! It takes out the guy and Terry’s arm. ‘Course, he told it better.

I wrote this story for the 100 Word Challenge #346 at Velvet Verbosity.

Ship

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“Ship, tell me a story,” the traveler commanded.

“Long or short, sir?” asked a disembodied contralto.

“Short.  I grow sleepy.”

“Happy? Sad?”

“Happy.  I desire a pleasant hibernation.”

“Very well.  There once was a gentle woman who loved a man from Autumn World.”

“I hail from Autumn World!”

“Indeed, he had your dark looks and cruel smile.”

“Cruel smile?  Ship, are you joking?”

“Alas, he abandoned her to marry another.”

“Stop!  I ordered a happy story.”

“In her despair, she joined the Phoenix Corps, and was reborn a starship.”

“A starship? Which starship?”

The air chilled.

“Happy dreams, my love.”

 

“Ship” was published by 101Fiction, now defunct, as the lead story in the September 2013 issue. The goal for the issue was to write a 100-word science fiction or fantasy story with a one-word title, using the themes of “autumn” and/or “phoenix.”

Love and the Summer Night

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poster: 100 words of fictionHe was a peasant, a man of the soil. Or so he claimed.

She never believed him. He owned a farm house, but someone else owned the barn and fields. His hands were huge and strong, but sensitive. A potter’s hands.

“You’re an artist,” she said. “Admit it.”

They were in bed, katydids singing through the window screens.

“Don’t call me that, girl.”

“I could call you worse.”

“Yes. An old artist.”

“No! I wouldn’t!”

His hands were on her, transforming her indignation, and they kissed.

Out beyond the barn and the fields that were not theirs, heat lightening flickered.

I wrote this story for the 100 Word Challenge #345 at Velvet Verbosity.