100 Word Stories: July 3, 2007 Archives

July 3, 2007

Tuesday

Today's theme is "taking a walk."

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Dave: The Walls Have Ears

"Let's take a walk, Mr. Donne."

Roger looked at the polite man in the white suit. "You have a problem with my office?"

"I must insist." The movement was slight, but Roger was suddenly looking at the business end of a .38.

Roger got up and stretched. "Could use a walk." He drained his glass, and grabbed his hat. "Got a destination in mind, or anywhere the body won't be found for a few days?"

The polite man smiled. "I do not intend to kill you, Mr. Donne. Just ... talk."

"I quit marching at gunpoint back in '46. Better be an interesting conversation."

Read more from ***Dave's Donne & Donne.

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David: Unconstitutional

I was strolling through Chinatown one evening, when, suddenly, a teenaged boy, carrying one of those rounded frying bowls that they use around that neighborhood, ran out of an alley and crashed into me. Moments later, he was pursued by a Chinese man in a greasy apron waving a kitchen knife.

I asked, “What’s happening here?”

The Chinese chef pointed his knife at the kid. “He stole from me!”

Clutching the pan to his chest, the boy protested, “I was just taking a—“ I smacked the kid upside his head and passed him to the chef. I hate puns.

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Ted: Family Resemblance

I stop at the first landing. That crack in the plaster will take me to London. But I'm not walking to London today.

On the street, a crack in the pavement would take me to a small island in the South China Sea. It shines like a warm beacon at my back.

I walk for eight blocks to find the crack I need. This cracked cobblestone will lead back to my brother's room; but I doubt he'll be there. I'm not even sure Mom lives there anymore. I hope so. I need to tell her what I discovered about Dad.

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Jim: Senus Fugit III

The morning sun glared low on the horizon while Jacob’s long legs ate at the distances towards it. The minivan had run out of gas several miles back so he left it beside the highway. He didn’t remember where he had gotten it, anyway. All Jacob knew is that the previous owners were slobs, as testified by the scabrous bloodstains in the interior.

He grinned at stretching, verdant fields and decided that the increase in greenery meant that he was getting closer to home. So he hitched his belt for the concealed pistol to ride more comfortably and kept walking.