The pale-eyed, reed-thin child had asked a question, timidly, adding a please.

The elder, blissfully ignorant, failed to imagine the aftermath.

From Guest Contributor Sayantika Mandal

An avid reader and an aspiring writer, Sayantika Mandal graduated with honors in English from Presidency College, Kolkata and pursued a post-graduate diploma in English Journalism. After a two-year stint as a copy editor in the national daily Hindustan Times, she left to pursue her dream of being a full-time author.

The lone imagineer of the radioactive sand cloud that froze Florida in death and time worked for Disney. Tourists, natives, gangsters, and gators were rendered untouchable beneath a toxic sheet of glass. The reflection burned up satellites and crisped drones mid-air, and it was agreed the whole place should be forgotten, for now. So they forgot the flamingos and the dancing girls and the cigar factories in Tampa where the son cubano played on. Nobody remembered to forget the island past Key West where an old man sold boat rides to Havana for five dollars and a bottle of rum.

From Guest Contributor Courtney Watson

It started to rain as I got down from the ramshackle bus at the edge of the nondescript town. “Which way is the Nowhere Inn?” I asked the man hidden behind the newspaper. There was no response.

It was time for me to return to my nightmarish home.

From Guest Contributor Sourya Chowdhury

Sourya is a sports journalist based in New Delhi

She hasn’t unpacked yet. The clothes still smell of Paris. No, not of butter and cigarettes. Of that indescribable smell that is the smell of the City of Light.

They didn’t tell her that you can carry a smell across 7,000 kilometers but there’s simply nothing you can do to make it stay.

From Guest Contributor Sheena Arora

Peering through the tinted windows, she saw the river’s glittering trickle and the constellation of shiny debris scattered over the vast expanse of sand. Plate-sized, they glinted in promise. Starfish? Shells? Ornaments discarded as the river retreated to curl down in a corner?

The train blew past the retreating river with barely a sigh, as always.

From Guest Contributor Aparna Nandakumar

Aparna lives in Calicut, India, and writes poems and short stories. Her work has previously been published at Atticus Review and A Story in 100 Words, and is forthcoming at Cafe Dissensus and Red River Review.

No one had been expecting snow this far south. The local meteorologists all insisted the snow would stop at least a hundred miles north of here. How wrong they were, Dee thought as he stepped outside and was immediately blanketed in large, chunky snowflakes. They had a bona fide blizzard on their hands. Dee smiled, and out of the corner of his eye he noticed the specter of a yeti ambling across the street and into a neighbor’s backyard. No one, not even the yeti, would ever know how Dee managed to steal other people’s weather and bring it here.

From Guest Contributor, Dan Slaten

Even to this day I curse, swear and kick myself for having dozed off that painful night. Though I kept vigil all through her illness, the feeling of guilt has never subsided.

My being awake at her last moments would mean nothing, but I feel guilty for expecting the death of my loving pet.

From Guest Contributor Thriveni C. Mysore.

She was impeccable. His mentor. Love. Tears clouded his vision as he viewed their life together through photos he flipped.

He grumbled at the cancer that had wasted her body. Lifted the rotten fruit and threw it out.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. Her fiction and poetry have recently been published online and in journals at: Nailpolish Stories, 50-Word Stories, 100 word story, A Story in 100 Words, 101 Words, From the Depths (Haunted Waters Press), ShortbreadStories, and espresso stories. Her nonfiction has appeared in flash fiction chronicles and in Wild Lands Advocate. Krystyna resides in Alberta, Canada.

Sunil’s adolescent fantasy of being a bus conductor was now fulfilled. Nubile women pressed against him in strategic spots, he smirked.

When the bus pulled into Ramanattukara bus stand, Sunil was no longer in this world. Literally.

From Guest Contributor Aparna Nandakumar

Aparna lives in Calicut, India, and writes stories and poems. Her work has been published in Atticus Review and previously at 100 Words, and is forthcoming in Cafe Dissensus and Red River Review.

I’m a lucky lady. I have a wonderful lover in my life. A younger man. An enthusiastic younger man.

-I have no right to put demands on him.
-He can’t be on call.
-My husband will fly home tomorrow from his overseas posting.

From Guest Contributor Barry O’Farrell

Barry O’Farrell is an actor living in Brisbane, Australia. Barry’s other stories can be found at Cyclamens & Swords, 50-Word Stories, and of course here at A Story in 100 Words.