In honor of my 100th post, below are three 100-word stories, written today. I’m exhausted now.
She had to reach the shelter. She used all that was in her, hearing his pounding footsteps behind her. She knew he was stronger, but believed she was faster. She lowered her head, pumped her arms, and ran with all she had.
If she reached the shelter first, she’d be safe. Those were the rules, right? Her brain got foggy as her stomach knotted with tension, adrenaline ruling her body and keeping her moving. Almost there! His pounding footsteps were closer…closer…
She turned, stuck her tongue out at him. “Loser!” she yelled and ran back toward the school.
The ball was in the air. This was it. Jason lengthened his stride to place himself perfectly under the arching baseball. There was a roar in his ears, not just from the crowd hoping for the first win of the season.
This was a moment seventeen years in the making. Through pee-wee and school sports, this was the first time his dad had finally found him worthy to watch. A scout at the last game did that. A scout was here tonight, but Jason didn’t care.
He glanced up at the stands.
Never, never take your eye off the ball.
The phone rang. It was old, like the hand that picked it up.
“Go out your back door.” The voice was low, whispered.
“What? Who is this?”
“Go out your back door.”
“I’m going to call the police.”
“It will do you no good. We are here. We will not leave without you.”
“Leave? Where? What is this?”
“Don’t make us come in after you.” The voice faltered a little.
“Wait a minute… who is this?”
Giggling. “Did we scare you, Grampa? C’mon, let’s go trick or treating!”
He put the gun back in the drawer and stepped outside.