 [photo courtesy of 100wordstory.org] "Your eyes are funny. You trippin', man?" "Uh Huh." "What are you on?" "Shrooms, man." "I remember shrooms. My college days, they had me trippin' balls. Seein' things. Talkin’ to ghosts and such." "I know whatcha mean, man. Magic mushrooms wrote my senior thesis. My professor said it was the most detailed paper he'd ever read on The Drake Equation as related to communication with extraterrestrial civilizations. Gave me an F." "You failed? What the Hell, man?" “My theme was, The Cold War and Cuban Missile Crisis.” The old man in the mirror laughed and gave him a knowing wink. By Lisa H. Owens Just 100 Words 100 Word Stories - November 2023 Photo Prompt
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 [photo courtesty of www.100wordstory.org] Timmy was a strange kid. He’d been born with an index finger where a lateral incisor should be. His body was riddled with bites and odd scratches, as without thinking, he often used the tooth-finger to scratch his itches. The dentist suggested amputating the finger. Digging the appendage out of his upper gum to replace it with a pearly dental implant. Well hell, they would brighten all his teeth giving him a winsome smile. Timmy loved the words “winsome smile,” but he also loved the only evidence of his twin sister, Helen, whom his body had absorbed in the womb. By Lisa H. Owens Just 100 Words 100 Word Stories - September 2023 Photo Prompt  [photo courtesy of www.100wordstory.org] Uncle Ken’s been different since his notorious Lockdown-Meltdown of 2020. He’s a real peach these days. Thoughtful and content. No more rants on misuse of tax dollars or declining work ethics. This Uncle Ken senses what is not apparent. He freely gives bear-hugs and is in high demand on family outings and holidays. He winks when I snap photos of him, his arm draped over the neck of his everpresent guardian, Haru the Dragon. The grown-ups scoff and roll their eyes, but I know he’s real. Haru tells me he will rain fire on the villains. I whisper their names. By Lisa H. Owens Just 100 Words 100 Word Stories - August 2023 Photo Prompt  [photo courtesy of www.100wordstory.org] "Can't think of anything to write?" Howard looked over the author's shoulder, his beak brushing her earlobe—the one with the fake diamond stud. He’d eaten the real diamond on his last visit. He was tricky that way. Drawn to sparkly things. Lesson learned, the author wore knockoffs when Howard was home. "What's the July prompt?" He snuggled up, delicately pulling at the earring backing. “Well, oddly enough, it’s a photo of you,” she deflected his beak with a light karate chop, “Walter’s Saint Paddy’s Party, I think. You’re wearing green.” “Aaah.... Walter’s party. That night was quackers. There's your story!” By Lisa H. Owens Just 100 Words 100-Word Stories - July 2023 Photo Prompt  [photo courtesy of www100wordstory.org] The wind awoke as Dad gingerly carried the punk, its firey tip enhancing his coppery hair.
“Light’er up,” we cried. Dad squatted to light the fuse while the breeze caressed and teased his graying sideburns and the low side-part above his ear. “Come on wind,” we urged. The wind billowed—speeding the flame along—to ignite the lift-charge of the Grand-Finale-Rocket. Against a starburst backdrop, a glorious gust disengaged the flap of Dad's hair, sealed into submission by a wad of pomade, and we broke out in song, “It’s a Grand Old Flag…” finally celebrating the release of the combover. By Lisa H. Owens Just 100 Words 100-Word Stories - June 2023 Photo Prompt  Winner: First Place Prize Theme Prompt: Perception Dr. Rorschach presented another ink-stained page to the boy. He was pleased by the simplicity of the boy’s answers; a reliable method to test one’s level of madness, he thought. The boy fell into the ink, felt the tickle of clouds on his cheeks. Smelled Father's newly planted crops—with a hint of something sinister. The ripeness of decaying flesh. Those he’d buried beneath cultivated soil once he finished his experiments. He savored their delicious screams. “What do you see? There are no wrong answers, mein Junge.” “Puppies, Herr Doktor,” his eyes narrowed as the doctor scribbled in his journal. ~ Lisa H. Owens Inspired by a June 2023 Globe Soup monthly themed contest - Perception Winner: First Place Prize (Judges' Pick)  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 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 tip snapped off. 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 to blue ink and your end.) 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 in 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 Published in The Drabble November 6, 2022 |
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