Kosher

By J. Bradley
You watch your mother and father kiss one last time before their ashes marry, just like what happened to all the other parents.

Full-Length Mirror

By Paul Strohm
Claire has been wanting a full-length mirror in our New York apartment. How come, I want to know. You can look at your top half in the bathroom and you see your feet any time in the shoestore.

Photo Story: Winter Birds

By Kris Faatz
Every winter, thinner ice on the lake, rotting and fragile. Soon the birds will go farther north, chasing the last crystal cold.

Waiting

By Kathy Steblen
Fourteen days holed up here with peels of wallpaper, like streamers, looping in mock festivity above my head.

Mica

By Rishee Batra
Everything changed when we started to role play. I dressed up as sunrise, you the wanderer staring east over the ocean.

Lightning

By Bronwen Griffiths
The lime green coat with piping. She loves the way the coat shines, the contrast of greens, the acid of the lime against the pine-coloured braids.

Announcing the 100 Word Story Anthology!

Each 100 word story is its own kind of special. Now you can read 117 of our favorites published over the past 6 years in "Nothing Short Of: Selected Tales from 100 Word Story."

Ranch House

By James Z. Schwartz
A garden-variety ranch house on a street full of garden-variety ranch houses. His tidy room’s a refuge from dirty dishes, unmade beds, soiled laundry.

Listening

By Charlie Stephens
Through the peeling wall I can hear you snap your bones one by one. Tiny pings of destruction. In the morning you start with your feet: tiny bones are easier.

Photo Story: The Cold Bullet

By David Drury
The story goes that when bank robber Wells Duluth was shot dead, the bullet came out the other side encased in ice.

Photo Story: The Liver

By Charlie Stephens
We called that bay “The Liver” then, for its brown thickness, for its shame. We had moved back in like roaches, once the wealthy foreigners abandoned us for someplace cleaner to enjoy themselves.

Roadkill

By Gary Duncan
She hasn’t been right since she hit the pheasant. It was a sign, she says. Of what, she doesn’t know, but it was definitely a sign.