• 100 word stories,  Fiction,  microfiction

    Fire

    She held the ashes in her hand, a small fragment of the life she’d thought mattered more than it did. A child cried at her feet. A man with a furrowed brow stood behind her, his shaking palms resting on her shoulders. Wind blew the scent of smoke down the valley and out to the ocean. And the manic scream of sirens grew louder as they approached. All their worldly possessions burned, the swirling flames hungrily consuming and sneering back at her. But she smiled down at the crying child. Everything that mattered was here beside her. Touching her. Breathing.   Join in… The 💯 Story Challenge You can follow…

  • 100 word stories,  Fiction,  microfiction

    Lucky 7

    “Now you really are my lucky seven.” Brow furrowed, stealing my tenuous after-glow, “I thought you said I was your first?” He offered a backpedaling smile that implicated him and dismissed me. “Oh come on, you knew that wasn’t true.” I had. And in that moment, I dismissed myself, too. I pushed the lie aside, slipped into the tiny trailer bathtub, and washed away the scent of 16-year-old sex: a mix of fear, hope, expectation, and disappointment. He held me as I traced the cracks in the tile with my toe and stared at the 7-shaped scar on my ankle.   This is another autobiographical tale. The full story can…

  • 100 word stories,  Fiction,  microfiction

    Regret

    Before I opened my eyes, I already knew something was wrong. The smell was off. A black, heavy feeling, like a bowling ball on my stomach, held me to the bed. The wrong man snored quietly next to me. My ex’s best friend. It all rushed back. The beer. The too-fast drive into the woods to shake off the break-up. But, why had he offered that? A rancid taste in my mouth. He stirred. Saying nothing, we dressed, drank coffee, and left the apartment. The dead cat in the grass outside summed up just how I felt at that moment.   So this one is actually autobiographical. I really did…

  • Experience,  Opinion

    I like my sex like I like my food…

      I was perusing Twitter this morning and came across this tweet from Jayne Renault. I love it. And it got me thinking this morning. Metaphorically speaking…I like a little spice. And, no surprise, Mr. D likes more heat than I do. I prefer comfort food over exotic cuisine. American and Western European dishes over Asian or Indian or Middle Eastern or…. It doesn’t mean I won’t try those things…or even enjoy them for what they are. I can appreciate something, yet not want to add it as part of my everyday menu. And when it comes right down to it, I’m not a huge fan of change. I order…

  • Experience,  Opinion

    Love can only get us so far…

    Mr. D and I are a bit disconnected right now. Not in trouble…but certainly not on our A-game. Sometimes it’s like that. We lose touch a bit in the din of day-to-day. A common issue for long-term relationships, especially those where children and high-stress careers are involved. For me, the distraction is usually work. It pushes my levels of stress and wears me out physically, mentally, and emotionally. Add to that the pressures of a graduate program, parenting responsibilities, and by evening I have little left to give. I’ve hit my 2nd bout of exhaustion for the school year. I’ll likely hit one more by the end. Nothing new, but…

  • 100 word stories,  Fiction,  microfiction

    Forever

    Even with all the photos surrounding her…the albums…boxes of loose Polaroids…she still couldn’t seem to keep track of his face. She was losing him. The details. The feel of his 5 o’clock shadow against her face when he kissed her hello. The smell of his cologne wafting behind him. His razor still sat next to the sink. Toothbrush dry in the cup. Suit laid out on the bed. Ready to be worn. Forever. She’d had a different forever in mind. Placing her hand on her belly, she felt a kick and hoped he would look like him. So she’d never forget.   Join in… The 💯 Story Challenge You can…

  • 100 word stories,  Fiction,  microfiction

    Double Agent

    (Image source: istock.com)   “You want this, don’t you?” Reaching into her cleavage, she pulled out a hint of wire. Winking, she continued, “Touch me, Mr. President. I don’t mind.” They’re trying to trap you. A warning in blue ink on a napkin next to her half-empty Manhattan. “I’m a married man.” “When has that ever stopped you?” “Just about every time.” “Just about?” “Not gonna lie, I’ve been tempted. Katherine knows all about my…missteps. I’ve nothing to hide.” Reaching across the table, he took the mic into his palm, dropped it into her drink, and kissed her. “Thanks, doll. I owe you.”   Join in… The 💯 Story Challenge…

Are you 18 or older? This website contains material that is not suitable for readers under the age of 18. Please verify your age to view the content, or click "Exit" to leave. Content Warning: If you are sensitive to content referring to dominance and submission, please proceed with caution.