The little girl stomps the yellow rain boots through the puddles, scattering the water that bled from the ground and collected in the damaged parts of the cement road.

Once the puddle has disappeared, the patch of ground loses her interest, and she moves down the street, searching intently for another.

From Guest Contributor Caroline Meek

Love letters are beautiful and they are really fun to write, especially when you are writing it for yourself and not for others. But nowadays, there are a considerable number of copywriters doing the job for you, for money. Maybe it’s time to take back writing love letters. How can you write a love letter in 100 words if you are not good at writing, you may wonder. The answer is actually very simple.

Write “I love you” 33 times and “I…” once. That makes it simple and infinite. Just title it A Love Letter in 100 Words, or else…

From Guest Contributor Debarun Sarkar

Debarun sleeps, eats, reads, smokes, drinks, labors and occasionally writes stories and submits them. Recent works have appeared or are forthcoming in Visitant, Off the Coast, The Opiate, Peeking Cat Poetry, Literary Orphans, In Between Hangovers, and here at A Story in 100 Words, among others. He can be reached at debarunsarkar.wordpress.com

“Some days you just can’t write,” he said aloud.

The page remained blank.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid

The father grabbed his son’s attention away from his overbearing mother and said, “Go now before it gets too late or you’ll miss her. If you let this young lady get away you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. It makes no difference whether your mother will accept her or not. Here, take this money and my credit card and get going now.”

The dad, somewhat choked up, said, “My dear son, you already had my admiration. My blessing is freely given to you with joy.”

From Guest Contributor James Freeze

It is hard to swallow that the sun always beams on someone, when she ignores shining on me. The sun parks behind the clouds on sullen January mornings, knowing, full well, the snow would be whiter and the air, warmer, if it was ambitious enough to burn through molten lead skies.

Wallowing in darkness, with only a feeble moon, I am not the least bit rapturous to know the sun blazes in Australia. Cosmic, coquettish peek-a-boos of partly cloudy days throw me into a dark mood but, in my codependency, I am happy that my constant inconstant keeps coming around.

From Guest Contributor Tim Philippart

My body wakes to join my mind in shock as scenes of a distorted world vanish, and realization sinks in. The darkness of the world I inhabit dissipates, and the light arises once more. Haunted by the past and present, but none so terrifying are they to the unknown of the future. That eldritch thing that lurks behind the veil of light, creeping across the land and praised by the Cult of the New Dawn. I lie here in fear, hoping and praying that I possess the strength to face it once more, to conquer the daemon of the day.

From Guest Contributor Michael Atherton