 The wretched crew lined up midship, tattered hems of their shirts unencumbered by breeches. The wind skirted in—tickling the shirttails—allowing Captain Smythe to glimpse assorted legs. Though jaundiced and twisty, he coveted them like Crack Jenny’s teacup. “Curses! Scrawny, like me Great Aunt Bessie’s, they are,” he spat a wad of tobacco on the offender’s boots. “Blimey! Like a bloated corpse too long in the sun,” Smythe sank the blunt edge of his cutlass into Seaman Jones’ springy flesh. Pausing mid-stride, he adjusted Barrelman Mick’s rotted leg, a knuckle too short, causing Captain Smythe an uncomfortable lopsided gait. Lisa H. Owens Inspired by a June 2023 Black Hare Press Dark Moments Themed Contest: Pirates
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Winner: First Runner-Up Prize Theme Prompt: Enemies The truck coasted downhill, stopping alongside the barn. Tonight, that sumbitch’d learn a hard lesson. He snuck in through the calving stall and climbed toward the loft. He’d steal some hay, then start Plan-B (iffen he could remember). He forgot stuff these days. The barndoor opened and the light flipped on, surprising the thief. “Christ almighty, Pops. Lilah and me’s been a’married forty years. Give it a rest, will ye?” “Well, boy, some thangs can’t be put to rest.” “Sorry you feel that’away. Now, climb on down afore ye get hurt. See ye in church tomorrow?” “I reckon,” Pops shrugged. Lisa H. Owens Inspired by an May 2023 Globe Soup monthly themed contest - Enemies Winner: First Runner-Up Prize  [photo courtesy 100wordstory.org] Clara wasn’t sure how to sign a letter to a dead man. Not because she was at a loss for words; for she had written salutations in the past. It was the mechanics of it. The pencil-lead broke towards the end. My Dearest Bubba, I hope you enjoyed your last slice of my special key lime pie. I know Roberto, Nico and Bjorn certainly did. They all said it was a pie to die for, may they rest in peace. Here’s wishing you a happy afterlife! Yours Truly, Clara Santiago-Papadopoulos-Jorgensen-Delmont (Please forgive my switch from pencil to blue ink.) Lisa H. Owens Just 100 Words 100-Word Stories - May 2023 Photo Prompt  That boy's a fool; he'll be the death'a me yet, thought Granny-Bob. She spritzed a stream of ever-present snuff through the unwieldy gaps in her teeth, purposefully missing the boy's skinny arms, a'flappin' as he pedaled by. It was all great fun, him juggling a half dozen machetes while riding a rickety unicycle in a lopsided circle—narrowing by design—to draw in the masses. Granny-Bob smiled at the uproarious crowd. Her charge's simpleton act was convincing. Look at all them rubes awatchin'. She massaged her gnarled hands—warming them. Limbering them. Readying them to relieve the audience of their bulky pocket change. Lisa H. Owens Inspired by an April 2023 Globe Soup monthly themed contest - Fool (forgot to submit for the contest)  [photo courtesy of 100wordstory.org] Mittens destroyed the kingdom. ‘Twas merely an accident, for though he looked ferocious, he wasn't a vengeful dragon—simply plagued by allergies. Upon hatching, an approaching thunderstorm induced a sneezing fit, setting every candle wick aflame, and Sally realized she had a problem. Not in keeping a dragon (though it was frowned upon by the council), but in slathering a poultice of aromatic herbs and lard upon Mittens’ ruby throat at the first rumblings of thunder. In a drunken stupor, she was, the night of The Great Storm followed by The Great Burn and fed-up villagers arrived wielding enchanted pitchforks. Lisa H. Owens Just 100 Words 100-Word Stories - April 2023 Photo Prompt  [photo courtesy of www.100wordstory.org] The line of cars started alongside the makeshift tents. It snaked through abandoned fair ground concessions—dotted with wayward cups and haphazard propane tanks—and ended miles later beyond the stockyards. Ben fidgeted in the driver's seat. “This is fuckin’ madness,” he grumbled, “and you hacking up a lung.” I lifted my mask to pop another flavorless lozenge, choking back a cough as dry as the Sahara, and cracked my window. “Roll it up. Smells like shit out there,” Ben shifted his eyes to the adjacent cattle barn. Another cough. Another tear soaking my mask. I hadn’t smelled a thing in days. By Lisa H. Owens Just 100 Words 100 Word Stories - March, 2023 Photo Prompt  [photo courtesy of www.100wordstory.org] “A penny for your thoughts?” His voice was insistent. The edgy tone he used when he was on the brink. She thought about the things she wanted to say. How he was too controlling and turned every conversation into a monologue. What was wrong with the world. Wrong with her. How for years she’d dreamt of ways to end his reign of terror. How last month she started adding a special ingredient to his morning coffee—him contemplating why it was this particular brand tasted of almonds. Instead, she said, “I don’t deserve you, darling,” focusing on her cracked teacup. By Lisa H. Owens Just 100 Words 100 Word Stories - February, 2023 Photo Prompt  [photo courtesy of www.100wordstory.org] She prayed each night before laying her head upon her makeshift pillow, thanking the good Lord above for her blessings. It was the little things. A new start—free from the terror of physical abuse. Food in her belly, a bottle of water in the center console. A crisp new library card and a stack of books by her side. A rare parking space in a No-Tow-Zone and adjacent to a streetlight, to boot, where she could read until her eyelids grew heavy. The soft blanket of snow insulating her temporary home. Kindness of strangers. A new job on Monday. By Lisa H. Owens Just 100 Words 100 Word Stories - January, 2023 Photo Prompt Jacqueline: “Remember that Halloween at the Cinema-plex when we watched Chucky and Romeo snuck in a bottle of Jägermeister and got so wasted, he rolled down the aisle and chipped a tooth? Merde! C'était amusant.” Ashley: “Yes! But it was Christmas and we watched Krampus. He tripped in Concessions and jambed his finger after smoking that blunt. Shit! That was funny.” Romeo: “Uhm. We were bowling and it was Roberto. He dropped the ball on his toe. Cazzo! Questa era buona.” Roberto: “¡Imbéciles! It was New Year’s Day and anaphylaxis at Ralph’s Vegan Burgers. ¡Maldito peanuts! I nearly died.” Lisa H. Owens January 2023 - Globe Soup Microfiction Monthly Contest Theme: Memories  [photo courtesy of 100wordstory.org] True to his word, Uncle Joe took the key to his grave. One stormy night of the cousins working together, grunting, taking turns sharing shovels and the casket revealed itself. The hole was dank and cavernous. We drew straws. Which unlucky bastard would do the deed? Open the lid and run hands over old Joe’s decaying corpse, digging through gore encrusted pockets. I was the loser; but also, the winner. I launched out of that hole, smelling of death—key in my pocket—guns ablazing. The conundrum? What to do with the soil displaced by four dead cousins haphazardly astride Uncle Joe? By Lisa H. Owens Just 100 Words 100 Word Stories - November 2022 Photo Prompt  (Paranormal) The pre-flight briefing predicted smooth sailing to Bermuda, but a mysterious disturbance had the jet bucking and beverage cart careening. Flight attendants struggled to wrestle the cart through the aisle without maiming terrified passengers—to reach the aft-galley and stow the beast. Co-pilot Wilson slammed back the cockpit door. Roared, “Don your life-vests. NOW!" The cart secured; flight attendants buckled in. Shouted, "Heads down! Grab ankles! Stay low!" Then they braced and prayed the gatekeeper of the Bermuda Triangle might spare them—their prayers unanswered as the sea swallowed the aircraft in one mighty gulp and licked its salty lips. Lisa H. Owens November 2022 - Globe Soup Microfiction Monthly Contest Theme: Paranormal  (A Finalist) Bob reminisced while sipping two-fingers of watered-down house whiskey. Hell, who was he to complain? It was free, meant to loosen purse strings. The problem was the purse had been empty for years. In-side-out and shaken empty. Bob swallowed, pulling a face, the taste barely tolerable. Barely. He stared at his nemesis, its screen a mess of mismatched numbers and fruit. Dirty bastard. He tipped his head back. Felt the whiskey burn—down to his ulcer. This was his night. He felt it in his bones. He shook hands with the devil, yet again. Cherries and Sevens set in motion. Lisa H. Owens A Finalist - Top 13 October 2022 - Globe Soup Micro-fiction Challenge - read here Theme: Luck Published in Encore: Poems Collected by Jimmy Broccoli  [photo courtesy of www.100wordstory.org] Bob's apartment looked like an explosion. The couch cushions were shredded, the twin mattress stripped and flipped. Every drawer dumped to form one haphazard pile in the center of dank wall-to-wall carpet. This had Gianelli thugs written all over it. Bob’s apartment, smaller than his recently vacated prison cell, tossed. He opened the freezer and pulled out a Tony’s Pizza box and felt inside—beneath the shrink-wrapped pepperoni pie. They were still there, sealed in the baggie. He didn’t give two shits about anything else in this wretched hellhole. The hidden negatives were his way out. His ticket to Easy Street. By Lisa H. Owens Just 100 Words 100 Word Stories - October 2022 Photo Prompt  [photo courtesy of www.100wordstory.org] Daddy forgot to lock the door to his office / gaming room … again. The first time it happened, Timmy was only three and ingested a half-dozen Jelly Donuts and a crushed cigarette butt. Mommy called poison control but other than a tummy ache and bout of diarrhea, he went unscathed. The second (and final) incident, Tim was thirteen. He, along with two neighborhood kids—in order to enhance their Call of Duty: Warzone skills—did a three-way split on Dad’s secret bottle of Adderall. Five little orange pills apiece, and they played the best, last game of their lives. By Lisa H. Owens Just 100 Words 100 Word Stories - September 2022 Photo Prompt Published in Encore: Poems Collected by Jimmy Broccoli  [photo courtesy of 100wordstory.org] Camilla left work by 11:30 a.m. on Taco-Tuesdays. She replaced her meticulously ironed Skydeck Tours button-down with a Chuy’s Tacos tee before clocking out to take the glass elevator 103 floors to the ground level of Willis Tower. She stuffed her laminated green card and a few dollars in her fanny-pack, leaving everything else in her employee locker before jogging two blocks to the family food truck. She could see the line already snaking around the block and smiled. Taco-Tuesdays were the family’s bread and butter, and Camilla was the star. Papa would be happy to see her, La Cocinera. By Lisa H. Owens Just 100 Words 100 Word Stories - August 2022 Photo Prompt  [photo courtesy of www.100wordstory.org] The girl was glad she had a window seat. The lunatic had been storming up and down the aisle with a makeshift bomb strapped to his chest long enough that he was surely tuckering out. The flight attendants were huddled in the rear galley speaking in hushed whispers while the plane banked right, pitching the lunatic sideways, and the jet left the city in its wake. The explosion and crash that would follow would be less devastating in the burbs. She looked down, her eyes focusing on the bouncy house and kids' party at the end of a winding driveway. By Lisa H. Owens Just 100 Words 100 Word Stories - July 2022 Photo Prompt  [photo courtesy of www.100wordstory.net] Sue didn’t know anything about tarot cards or reading tea leaves or crystal balls. She just knew the lady who did her nails was gone and her replacement told Sue she had a dark aura. She added a tiny protection sigil to her pinky saying to visit Old Nan on Blyth Street…immediately.
Upon entering, a bleary-eyed crone beckoned her to the only vacant chair at the lopsided table. Sue sat, joining the ancient one and five youthful women. "Let us now begin,” Old Nan whispered. “Hail Satan…” they chanted and Sue noticed they all shared a black pinky pentagram. Lisa H. Owens Just 100 Words 100-Word Stories - June, 2022 Published in Encore: Poems Collected by Jimmy Broccoli  [photo courtesy of www.100wordstory.org] Great-Gran told the story at virtual family gatherings, always when the Young Ones wanted to hear about the ancient ways. Great-Gran removed the worn family album, an heirloom created centuries earlier when people used Polaroids, from the vault, as real books were priceless. It automatically fell open to a smiling couple—holding hands—using what was called public transportation. “Once upon a time,” she began “before teleportation,” she clarified, “Great-great-great-Gran met Great-great-great-Gramps riding on a train to an office—before holographic workspaces,” further clarification, “when human contact was still allowed, and people still smiled. ‘Twas an instant molecular binding…” Lisa H. Owens Just 100 Words 100-Word Stories - May 2022 Published on The Drabble - August 30, 2022  [photo courtesy of 100wordstory.org] I could almost feel the rain on my skin. Big bloopy raindrops soaking my dusty hair and quenching a constant deep dark thirst. I stopped the car, turning off the windshield wipers to press parched lips to the droplets as they collected on the glass. It was a tease akin to a desert oasis. Water, so close yet so far away. Slender pines swayed, bare branches mocking their excesses as they cast off the rain in wide sheets. My need was so intense. I threw open the door and stepped out, head thrown back—mouth open wide—greedily slurping the clouds’ offerings. Lisa H. Owens Just 100 Words 100-Word Stories - April 2022  [photo courtesy of 100wordstory.org] The couple considered themselves modern-day nomads. Adventurously, they cracked open a yellowing atlas to blindly dot fingers on random cities, where they'd park outside city limits, then shrug on laden backpacks to fearlessly explore the outskirts. Or, they might point Old Rusty's headlights toward the North Star, clunking along until his gas tank neared empty before stopping to hike whichever way the wind blew. Under a reddening sky, they'd once pitched tents—precariously perched on the edge of a crater—and slurped bitter coffee out of black speckled mugs on Mars. They scanned the night sky, wistfully seeking planet Earth. Lisa H. Owens Just 100 Words 100-Word Stories - March 2022  [photo courtesy of 100wordstory.org] It was rumored, Bob Smith, the newest resident of Pleasant Street, was a mobster-turned-state’s-witness. Attempting to blend in, he traded his Cadillac for a Prius, wore Sansabelt slacks, pastel Polo Shirts and Sperry boat shoes. Upon meeting the neighbors, Bob talked about pleasant things like golf and the weather. Shortly after move-in day, Vinny’s Fences and Watches showed up with a team of goons who erected an impenetrable wall, neatly enclosing the three-bedroom suburban home on its postage-stamp sized lot while Vinny sold new Rolexes that had “fallen off a truck” out of the back of a windowless panel van. By Lisa H. Owens Just 100 Words 100 Word Stories - February, 2022 First Publication: The World of Myth Magazine March/April 2022 Edition  [photo courtesy of 100wordstory.org] The view of the Ferris Wheel was spectacular from the rooftop, especially when watching through his telescope. Sometimes it was quick and sometimes it could take months; but one thing was certain, he’d always find his next love interest. He’d focused on the girl with the yellow braids for a while. She was terrified of heights, it was evident, yet there she was again—white-knuckling the safety bar—screaming as her friend laughingly kicked her feet, causing the car to rock maniacally. He enjoyed her silent screams. Mime-trapped-on-a-hellish-wheel screams. Soon, he would bring her home where she would truly understand fear. Lisa H. Owens Just 100 Words 100-Word Stories - January, 2022  [photo courtesy of 100wordstory.org] It was a fucking travesty. A race to see who would finish first. There was never enough deliciousness to go around. One per person with that oddball roll left hanging in the balance. It was survival of the fittest at its finest—a game she played with them once a month—twice if she was feeling extra vicious. Mother nibbled slowly waiting for the showdown. Father versus daughter, choking like savages. Daughter’s hand shot in like a rocket. She was quick but couldn’t hide the conflict on her face. Father wondered why they didn’t just split the roll into thirds. By Lisa H. Owens Just 100 Words 100 Word Stories - December, 2021  [photo courtesy of 100wordstory.org] It was Come-to-Jesus time. Pastor Bob shouted salvation while The Lamb of God dutifully pounded out a head-banging version of Rock of Ages—strobe lights pulsing. The congregation cried, "Hallelujah! Praise the Lord! Glory! Get thee behind me Satan!" James Satan complied. He crept up behind distracted worshipers, helping himself to fat Gucci wallets and skinny Chanel handbags. Souls would be saved, and the evangelical team would share the wealth. Satan tearfully made his way to the altar where he fell to his knees, giving his dad, Pastor Bob, a covert victory sign. The choir joyfully pealed, "There's Victory in Jesus." Lisa H. Owens Just 100 Words 100 Word Stories - November, 2021  [photo courtesy of 100wordstory.org] There's a saying that goes something like this: Give a man an egg, and he'll eat breakfast. Give a man a hen, and he'll build a chicken-coop, nurture his hen’s hatchlings—fending off predators with his new shotgun. Incubate the baby chicks with heat lamps, ensuring they have high-end feed and spring-water. Repair the coop, keep the run spotless—naming the hens as they mature—the roosters becoming roasted Sunday Suppers. He’ll jump for joy once the hens start laying—rising early to gingerly collect the eggs. By then, he'll be broke, exhausted—sick of eggs—choosing cereal for breakfast. By Lisa H. Owens Just 100 Words 100 Word Stories - October 2021 Photo Prompt Published in the humor section of The Drabble - August 2, 2022 |
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