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Five 100-word stories from Tony Roberts

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Here are four 100-word stories. I am a retired civil servant and local government officer and live in Shoreham. I write mainly short stories but occasionally lapse into poetry.    Tony Roberts   AFTERMATH Dr Jones was on his house calls when he heard that a bomb had gone off nearby; he went to help. He treated several of the injured the best he could. Then he found another; he recoiled in horror as the man was clearly dying in a pool of blood. He gave him a pain-killer, and held his hand. “Doctor can you help please.” It was one of the emergency team calling in some exasperation. “I’ve checked him; we can’t do anything.” Dr Jones nodded. He brushed away his tears, kissed his son goodbye and hurried over to the waiting medic.   MISSING MOBILE   It was the morning after the party and the house resembled a battlefield. I had the task of clearing up while Judy went to work. “Bye then,” she muttered. I sighed; things were not good between us. Later I found a mobile. I shrugged;

Bad Life Choices

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She cocked her head to one side catching a sound. She was suddenly glad she was at the entrance of the alley and not swallowed by its dark embrace. She took a step back towards the lights of the club and the happy chatter of people spilling out into the night. Safety. She looked again; he had appeared out of nowhere. He moved with lethal grace, inhuman in his speed. One moment he was there and then…then he was here. She had only stopped briefly to light her cigarette. They had told her repeatedly that smoking would kill her.   Jo Beckett BA(Hons) MCLIP Librarian Oriel High School

Fairy Joy

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by Roberta Beach Jacobson Every morning as I leave for work, I hide a few berries and some beach pebbles in my front garden as gifts for visiting fairies.  When I return home at 5 pm, the berries are gone. Always. Birds?  The pebbles are rearranged, sometimes stacked. Other times, a couple are missing. Thinking about it, it can’t be birds. Author, Demitasse Fiction: One-Minute Reads for Busy People Roberta Beach Jacobson | Linktree

“Surprise”

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“ Surprise” They waited for me inside the office, but I came prepared. Did they think me stupid? All week, their conversations dwindled when I approached. Their eyes lingered before darting away. “You’re paranoid,” my wife said. Could she be involved? I stared at the bedroom ceiling until dawn painted it grey. Then I overheard hushed voices while hiding in the toilets: “We’ll get him tomorrow.” I stepped through the doors and into their ambush. Whipping out the gun, I fired with frantic abandon. “Surprise,” my wife said, slumping to the floor. The birthday cake slid from her lifeless hands. Christopher Mattravers-Taylor  Author bio: favourite hot sauce: Encona. 

Driver

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  It was dark and the road was deserted. I was driving, my friend sat in the back seat.   Suddenly two motorcycles started chasing us. They signalled us to slow down. "They are robbers," said my friend. "They have been tipped that there is cash in the car. Drive on."    Instead, I slowed down. One motorcycle overtook the car and blocked our way. I pressed the accelerator pedal. The motorcycle lost balance and fell by the wayside. The other motorcycle too gave up the chase.    I drove on and stopped the car only when I reached the next town.   -- Dr. Bhargavi Chatterjea Bhattacharyya MRCPsych (London)

This week's entries for the 100-word challenge

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Paper Lullaby by Rebecca Klassen Two stories by Biswajit Mishra

The Twit-o-logical Mechanism

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THE TWIT-O-LOGICAL MECHANISM (response to Paul Klee's Twittering Machine. URL: https://www.moma.org/collection/works/37347 ) Precision is essential to operating the machine. That statement is very true despite what some call the whimsical form of the device. For one, it takes exactly three pounds of force per square inch to turn the fitted handle. Any less proves futile. Any more poses risk of machine implosion. A game enthusiast, heedless of what was required, once revved the handle that hard both it and the transmission bar adjoined burst into a thousand, random bits. The parts had to be reassembled at great cost to the machine owner. Properly instructed, however, most people turn the handle without such embarrassing incident. When the transmission bar is set going at the optimal revolutions per minute, the coiled wire will activate. Each coil on it is looped two hundred ninety degrees to allow the best force transmission along the line. As a carefully calibrated piece o