If I stay on the bottom, the monsters can’t find me.

I ran when they came, ripping the air like paper, into the Lab from Wherever.

Papa made me special. A weapon. Told me I can stop the monsters.

I’m so scared. What do I do?

I jumped into the pool when the monsters killed everyone.

I smelled the blood. I can still smell it. In my mind. Even here.

I don’t think they heard me.

Did they hear me?

…they heard me.

I’m special. I’m scared.

Hidden. They can’t find me. I’m water. Quiet water.

Please don’t find me.

I’ve been away a while. Honestly, I didn’t plan to come back to these 100-word stories. By this point, I thought I’d have my newsletter roaring at a fantastic pace. The stories would flow, birds would sing, candy would rain from the Heavens.


None of that happened. Maybe the birds sang. You can’t really stop them, stupid birds. They’re probably singing the avian version of Nickelback’s Greatest Hit or something.

In any event, my creativity hit a mighty wall of crapulence. I really needed to make something simple and complete. April gave me a good nudge for that today with her dive back into the 100-word challenge as did my friend Caroline who is writing some wonderful poetry. My story is inspired in part by the masterful Netflix miniseries Stranger Things, which I highly recommend to you, and by a dream I used to have as a kid about hiding from unseen monsters under water.

It’s an odd story, I know, but it has a purpose. The wall of crapulence can not be felled with one mighty stroke but perhaps with persistent plinking from a patient man. I’m not a patient man, but I’m learning.