100 Word Stories: September 6, 2007 Archives

September 6, 2007

Thursday

I left my heart, in ....

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Michele: I Left My Heart On Your Nightstand

I woke up with a familiar feeling. Bad familiar. I was groggy, depressed and I didn't give a shit about much. It'd been a while since I felt like that. What happened last night to make me feel...

Shit.

My heart.

Where did I go last night? Some bar. Some chick. Her place....

Shit.

I dragged myself out of bed and went to her apartment. She answered the door, looking less attractive than she did when I was drunk.

"I think I might have left something...."

"Traded it in for some meth. Sorry, Tinman."

Shit. The wizard's gonna be pissed.

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Stacy: The End

Dear Doctor,

Did you not know that to create me would be to curse me? Never again to know the warmth of human kindness, the delicate touch of another. We need that, Doctor, lest we shrivel and die inside.

These long years have taken their toll. I tire, and long for surcease, whatever the consequences to be faced in my afterlife. Yes, despite the horror of both of my lives, I do still believe in God. What remains to be discovered, is whether He believes in me.

I left my heart where no man will ever venture.

Fare thee well.

David: Beyond Human

The advent of artificial organs was a boon to that half of the population whose bodies could accept them. Rejection was binary; if someone rejected so much as an artificial skin graft, then lungs and livers were forever denied them.

It became briefly trendy to trade out boring natural organs for the sweetest hotrod bio-accessories. Lungs with superchargers, over-clocked pancreii, alternative spectrum eyes, anything the fashionably surgery-minded could imagine. Hips for the hip.

Then they passed laws requiring those who could accept artificial organs to donate their natural ones to those who couldn’t.

They took my heart in San Francisco.

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Ted: I Hate this Town

"I hate this town."

"No you don't. You get like this every time the fog lasts past 8. As soon as the sun comes out, you love it all over again. The parks, the bridge, the wharf. Where else could you live the way we do, do the jobs we have, and not be chased out of town by villagers with pitchforks and torches?"

"But the nights get so damn cold, even in summer."

"I know.. Hey, look, there's a likely candidate. Got your scythe ready? Ok, go get her!"

"By myself? What? Your arm's broke?"

"You need a vacation."

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