Create a 100-word micro story.
This is how it works: We give you the first fifteen words. You fill in the remaining eighty-five words to create a hundred-word micro story.
Rules:
1. You may not change the provided title, the first 15 words, or the punctuation. Your story must, semantically and grammatically match what is given.
2. You may not add more than 85 words. The entire story must be exactly 100 words.
3. It must be free of spelling and grammatical errors.
4. Content deemed offensive by the ReadLit Team will not be accepted.
5. Multiple submissions are welcome.
This is how it works: We give you the first fifteen words. You fill in the remaining eighty-five words to create a hundred-word micro story.
Rules:
1. You may not change the provided title, the first 15 words, or the punctuation. Your story must, semantically and grammatically match what is given.
2. You may not add more than 85 words. The entire story must be exactly 100 words.
3. It must be free of spelling and grammatical errors.
4. Content deemed offensive by the ReadLit Team will not be accepted.
5. Multiple submissions are welcome.
Breaking News
It wasn’t the best of times, it wasn’t the worst of times. It was before…
It wasn’t the best of times, it wasn’t the worst of times. It was before my first cup of coffee, so it wasn’t any time at all. That is, I had no temporal or spatial reference when the crackling and crashing began. Was I still in bed dreaming? Or standing in the kitchen by a monstrous, superdecibelious juice extractor? It was then the explosion made me jump to the wall as bed, lamp and dresser plunged from above, confusing both space and time, which I thought had ended. Now awake, I grabbed my smartphone and saw the news, Richter 5.0.
It wasn’t the best of times, it wasn’t the worst of times. It was before I even read that morning’s headlines in the ‘Times’ newspaper. The first thing I always read every morning is the obituary column, to see if I’m still alive. Apparently, I’m not. I died of unnatural causes, namely drowning in a vat of single malt whisky. Carting these wings and a harp about were clues I suppose and the fact that I had been particularly light headed for a couple of days whilst seemingly meeting old friends I thought were dead.
It wasn’t the best of times, it wasn’t the worst of times. It was before the 2016 U.S. elections, I decided at 19:21 on November 8th that this presented an opportunity to assume narrating while ‘walking the walk’ with the first female President, Hillary Clinton as I did with the first African American, Barack Obama from 2008 to 2012 in self-published “Raindrops”. Many nations from Turkey to Israel, and Germany and England had enjoyed female commanders-in-chief but still not the USA, the cradle of democracy! Instead, on November 9th, I witnessed a ‘yuge’ reality distortion alla Americana, produced in Hollywood studios.