365 Daily Multiple-Reads: 100-word stories to energize your day by Bill Sells

If you give a mouse a cookie wrapper

The owl raced the coyote for the remains of the mouse who'd been nibbling on the cookie wrapper Timmy threw out of his Dad's car. Sophia was in a car that came down the road just then, and saw the owl swoop and the coyote dash. She thought the coyote looked like a cross between a fox and a dog, and that the owl was much larger than she had ever imagined. It was a beautiful snowy-white with flecks of black, gray and brown. By the time Gloria passed, the coyote, owl, mouse and cookie wrapper were easily missed.

The Pew of Obadiah Thompson

I see everything – even when they wear their finest. I been here since 1678, back when they didn't let everyone in. Still don't, though they say they do, but ain't figured out how to spread the word. I mean, if I was a tree, which I was at one time, and whenever I stuck out a branch it got trimmed, I'd make sure to grow strong before reaching out again, but I'd keep reaching. I'd build up good and stretch out real far, and bring shade to anyone too long in the heat. Can I get an amen?

A Whole New Dog

“He's like a whole new dog, but not.”

“No, he's not. Still wants to get in everybody's business.”

“Answered prayers, oddly.”

“Oddly? He came out of surgery well, and doing great learning to navigate with only three legs.”

“Not just the cancer and leg. I meant prayers for his ability to socialize. He never grew out of this aggressive need for attention. He's so strong, I always had to keep him from jumping on everyone. But now...”

“Wow. Yeah, like a whole new dog, but he's not.”

“No, he's not.”

“Do me a favor?”

“Sure.”

“Don't ever pray for me.”

Mister Levi

Let me tell you about Mister Levi. I was as close to him as anyone. You know, he was a genius. Always thinking how to better products or meet people's needs with quality work clothing. But it was the little things, like me, that truly set him apart. Mister Levi gave me my start himself. He said, “Put full-pockets in back, and the front ones should be crescent-shaped from the first belt-loop across to join the top outer seam. And I want a little 'secret pocket' for my watch.” Genius, he was, 'cause I sure seen more than watches.

The Sun Also

Sun sets fast here. Winter fast. The feeling of falling into darkness, like an exhale, seemingly final. I watch her breathing. Rising. Falling. Sometimes a shake or shimmy, like ripples running through the ether. Sometimes shallow. Sometimes long moments between. I wait. She waited for me. Watched me like this, I'm sure. Not final. Not like now. Not counted in minutes. Once, she rose, blossomed, spun, floated, crested, peaked, weakened, and sank. Nearly dawn. Nearly. Cresting, my rays draw forth new mornings to watch the nights. Fast and merciful, the feeling of falling into darkness. Like an exhale, seemingly final.

We Make Do

"Sorry, folks, but we all know Pearl passed last night. Annie has the dispersal breakdown. Annie?"

"Thanks, Charles. Usually we do this after morning meds, but....yes, Millie, sorry, I said, WE USUALLY DO THIS AFTER MORNING MEDS, but because of our staffing difficulties, we make do, right? WE MAKE DO, RIGHT? Okay, Pearl had two bottles of baby aspirin with fifty-three pills, roughly six per resident; acid-reducers thirty-six, or four per; one, sixteen-ounce bottle of rubbing alcohol, or two-ounces each; a package of twelve diapers.....What? You couldn't wait? YOU COULDN'T WAIT? That's eleven, and Millie's minus one. Next item...."

This Little Light of Mine

Hi, I'm Candle, the figurative 'little light' from the song. Didn't become a song till later, you know. I only hummed it at first, and when I say 'hum,' I don't mean like an electric light. That's a whole other thing. My hum comes from contentment. You see, the thought behind it goes like this: to be 'like' a light, and not just the light. You know how marketers say, “Sell the sizzle not the steak?” well, the same applies here. It's not about being aglow, it's the process. Watch. Every time I shine without, my heart melts within.

Give a Shit

“In tonight's news: Doctors confirm cancer wonder-drug, 'Manzbesfren,' derived from dog-stool enzymes, is working miracles around the globe.”

“Yes, and there's a groundswell of support for the, 'Give a Shit about Cancer' poop drive, where owners donate their pet's waste.”

“And get a nice, by-the-pound tax-incentive.”

“I'm donating.”

“Me too. We're using the 'Nugget Bucket' they provided.”

“We're having multiple 'Crap Traps' installed in our yard.”

“Really? Don't expect loads like past days. Try a turd-turning truffle-pig instead.”

“Whatever it takes, right?”

“Give selflessly people.”

“Yes, bend till it hurts.”

He left his mark on us all

"I had a beau call Friday night."

"Are you kidding? What'd you do?"

"Rode his horse side-saddle."

"Oh, my God. I had a beau call on me last night and I rode side-saddle too."

"Hussy! Why didn't you tell me?"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want anyone to see what he left on my neck."

"I was wondering about the bandana. What's his name?"

"Mark."

"Beige Palomino, Mark?"

"Oh, my, yes, Mark Hickey. How'd you know?"

"He left one on me too."

"I don't see it."

"Well, the Palomino did while he was grazing."

A Little Sprinkle

"See, the birds don't wait for the rain to stop, Gwendolyn, because they know the worms are coming out of the ground. Oh, and look, there goes a bumble bee. She doesn't worry about a little sprinkle while looking for clover. We can get wet too, running for the ice cream truck!"

"Hi, honey, how are you enjoying your visit with Grandma and Grandpa? Oh? In the rain? Did you wear a raincoat? No? Umbrella? No? And Grandpa got you ice cream after he taught you about the birds and the bees? Great! Let me talk to Grandma, please."

Just write a note

“Sorry, Grandma. You have to go inside the store. He won't give it to me.”

“What? Ridiculous. When did they come up with that rule?”

“It's not a rule, Grandma. It's business.”

“Well, it wasn't like that in our day. They weren't Nazis. Mom drove up, and I ran in with a signed note: 'Please sell one pack of cigarettes to my daughter.' What if I wrote a note?”

“I don't think it'll work.”

“Why not?”

“Cannabis retail is a little different from tobacco, Grandma.”

“Cannabis? Oh, honey, no, Granny wants pot.”

Sharon Sharalike

Welcome. We love company. Here, have some air. Unfiltered fresh. We save so much by keeping our windows closed. Look! I have a new cold! It comes with a cough and runny. Here, I'll give you some to hold. Yeah, just touch anywhere. It's yours. Mi casa, su casa. What? You've never had one like this before? You should join our CO-OP - 'What's Mine is Yours?' We share everything. You know what the 'CO' stands for, right? We took out the nineteen. Yeah, that stuff just like bombards you everywhere. “Watch out! Disease! Oooooh.” I'm sick of it.

Wish You Could Quit Too

“Wish I could cut back, like Sam.”

“Yeah, he's down to a carton a day.”

“That's pretty good.”

“Yeah, but then you gotta go all the way and stop.”

“I know, or it's right back to full-blown.”

“What are you up to?”

“Daily?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, cost alone is, ah, times seven days a week, good Lord. I didn't realize how much I was spending.”

“I'm four-hundred a month.”

“Oh, I thought I was bad at three-seventy.”

“Expensive habit.”

“More and more.”

“Shit. We might have to start making our own shells.”

“Or open our own range.”

“Or quit.”

Pod Casts

“Well, it's like a back-burn, you know, like where you firefighters intentionally fire up a line to stop the forest fire – fight fire with fire? Does that help?”

“Yeah, thanks. It makes sense to me putting it that way.”

“Great. Anyone else on the fence about getting the vaccine? Open forum. Yes, sir?”

“I'm still not convinced.”

“What work you do?”

“I'm a lion tamer.”

“Okay, that's a new one on the cast. I see a lot of smiling and shaking heads. Well, um, do you stick your head in its mouth?”

“Of course.”

“Before or after it's fed?”

My Favorite

Her face awoke. She was sitting in the wheelchair in the corner as always, but today her eyes beamed bright enough to remember my name.

“I told him how much of a fan you are, Mom.”

“Albert Truesdale? Oh my. You shouldn't have.”

“But he's your favorite and I was there.”

“Yes, he's my favorite, and this is his newest?”

“Yes. Want me to read some?”

“Please, Philip.”

“Okay. To Melody Winthrop from Albert Truesdale. It's in the journey, not the destination. Chapter One...”

Please don't anyone ever tell Albert Truesdale.

Dear Reader,

During Covid I was introduced to flash fiction and the 100-word micro. I'm running out of paper. I'd be happy to share more if you like.

Thank you.

Bill Sells

300 Micro-Flash Fiction Stories

All genres - Adult, usually

Good fit? - You can fit them anywhere.

Hook? - Quick reads for quick reading people

Synopsis - A range of emotion every minute

Target audience? - See 'Hook'

Bill Sells is a former newspaper correspondent turned marketing writer, children's writer, short fiction writer, poet and Senior Olympic Gold Medalist (autographs by appointment, please). He's the author of a middle-reader adventure novel and a toddler's counting book. He can be found online at some of the finest literary fiction sites.