Rising

by Carol Stone

By the lake's edge the boy stands, his flesh creeping along trembling bones at the horror before him.

Bodies drifting slowly to the frost-covered surface, grey waxy faces bearing blood-encrusted teeth. Ugly bulbous eyes pressed against the thinning ice, staring, flickering, watching him. They are human but less than human, dead yet not happy to lie peacefully in their watery grave.

And the winter sun casts its warming light, cracking, snapping, splintering the brittle glassy sheet. They fed on his father and soon they will rise to eat flesh once more, the flesh that creeps, his flesh.

He cannot run.




Author bio: I am a specialist nurse by day, aspiring writer by night (and at any other given opportunity especially when working a night shift or whilst enduring long pointless meetings). I love dogs, laughter, Turkish Delight, chocolate, laughter, books, films, red wine, laughter, cake & comedy. I hate pointless meetings, know-it-all's, pointless meetings, to-do lists, long pointless meetings, greed & boredom. I am renowned for being laid-back & for not taking life too seriously. I have previously been published in AlienSkin magazine & Colored Chalk. My dream is to be the next Stephen King or Judi Dench, whichever comes first.

Rising is part of 101 Fiction issue 2.

Scapegoat

by Scott Dingley

In the muddy light cast from that vast shining disc of alien moon above,

With luminous fog hiding an abyss, perhaps a thousand fathoms deep... or high,

It stoops, head bowed, at the very edge of its rock cornice perch,

While scurrying, grey-scalped minions – parasites and pets – brush beneath its thick knuckles and turn the ground to a shimmering puddle.

It watches the far off citadel, along the forbidden snaking road...

The candle flames and spire rooftops of mankind,

And the scapegoat’s broad, monstrous shoulders roll forward with laboured breaths – or pining sobs – almost as if it can feel sadness.




Author bio: Where to point the finger of blame? Scott Dingley is a writer of dark fiction, increasingly devoted to the drabble...

Scapegoat is part of 101 Fiction issue 2.

Frozen

by Rhonda Eikamp

Dethroned, he fled north and the nights grew cold. He had seen ice before, but only in blocks imported for his palaces, not these fragile floors on creek and puddle. At dusk white buttons fell, and riding in upon the village he asked, "What is this?"

"Ghosts of our dead," the girl replied, "murdered by the southern king."

Gaze tilted, he saw it was true. Each flake was a face. Faces with razor teeth, floating onto his eyelids. Falling with night's vengeful quickness, a million, more. They bit his skin and grinned.

"Shelter!" he begged.

"Not here," jeered the villagers.




Author bio: I'm originally from Texas and live in Germany (so winter's a natural horror story for me). Stories of mine have appeared in Daily Science Fiction and The Colored Lens. When not writing fiction, I translate German legalese (another kind of horror).

Frozen is part of 101 Fiction issue 2.

Mercy

by John Xero

I remember when the Niphim first appeared, descending with the late snows, eight-winged winter angels, each beautiful and unique. I was there. It was the second decade of the twenty-first century, when the age of science ended and the new age of myth began.

They say the Niphim attend to the forgotten, the weak, the helpless, leaving frost-furred corpses, transporting broken souls to some safer place beyond the cruel humiliating ice of human existence.

I say otherwise. I have seen the screams frozen in each serrated feather, seen the Niphim's wings spread further each year, layered with agony and despair.




Author bio: John Xero is looking forward to the new age of myth; he's halfway there already, mentally. His head is full of stories, old and new, and sometimes they fall out, onto the internet.

This is the New Plan - http://www.xeroverse.com/p/ebooks.html
Tweets: @xeroverse

Mercy is part of 101 Fiction issue 2.

Cycle

by Roisin o'Hare

Winter is harsh here. Deny the claws that rend your hollow stomach, eat sparingly of hoarded food. The days are brief and grey, the nights unending. Ice lurks treacherous, snow temptingly soft, wind pierces clothing to steal warmth from any unguarded flesh.

And the winter walkers rise.

Truly the corpses of loved ones lost or simply snow-puppets, cruel caricatures. It makes no difference. Their cries need no breath, their broken fingers scrape at door and window. When the last leaf falls, the siege begins again. Despair kills more than the cold.

It will be too long before we see crocuses.




Author bio: Roisin o'Hare, an Irish girl living in Oxford who spends too much time saying 'I should write' and not enough time writing.

Cycle is part of 101 Fiction issue 2.

December 2013. Issue 2. Postscript.

December first 2013 - issue 2 of the quarterly 101 Fiction. If you're here on the day then you will see stories go live hourly. If you've arrived here on any other day, then you've just read and reached the end of issue 2. Thank you, and I hope you enjoyed it.

Keep on scrolling down, or clicking back (however you may be browsing), because there are nearly two hundred more fantastic drabbles right here.

There's issue 1, of course, but before that, 101 Fiction was publishing individual stories weekly and twice-weekly for over two years. A hoard of tiny little gems of imagination and character and spark.

The next issue will sprout on March first. I hope you'll be back to see what spring offerings we have, as a reader and, if the inspiration takes you, maybe a writer.

Keep reading. Keep writing. Have fun.

John.

December Issue Open for Submissions

16th November update: Submissions are now closed. Please do come back on the 1st December as the stories go live throughout the day. Thank you.



The gates are once more open! From now until November 15th we will be taking submissions for the December issue.

Stories for the December issue should use one or both of our themes - winter and undead. For full submissions guidelines please read the submissions page.

You are free to use the themes as loosely or tightly as you like, and you don't have to include the word itself if you don't want to, so long as the theme is identifiable within the story. Try not to use the theme word as the title.

For an idea of what we're looking for, check out Issue 1, but what excites us most is variety and creativity. It's a tiny piece so take the time to make every sentence perfect. Winter and undead resonate well with each other (although you don't, of course, have to use both themes) and we're hoping for some classic undead - ghosts, zombies, skeletons - as well as some more unusual twists.

Have fun. Keep writing. Good luck.

September 2013. Issue 1.

Welcome to the inaugural issue of the new format 101 Fiction. Eight drabbles, eight hundred words, eight tales rising from the flames of creation. All inspired by one or both of the issue's two themes: phoenix and Autumn.

We launch with Ship, a poignant slice of science fiction from James E. Anderson. Then Robin Wyatt Dunn delivers a magnificently shifted vision of a future not so far removed from our own. R.S. Bohn gives one girl cause to curse the bird, before we follow Lela Marie De La Garza on a wondrous Journey, leading to a synesthetic Implosion from Kymm Coveney. We have a pair of Phoenix, from Stella Turner and Russell Bernstein, two terrible tests of a man's mettle. Finally, as in everything, we must flee the inexorable turn of Seasons.

Welcome to issue one.

Read. Absorb. Enjoy.

Keep scrolling down for the stories or pull up the issue by itself here.

Alternatively, if you would like to download the whole issue and read at your leisure on your phone or your favourite eReader then you can download the PDF here.

Ship

by James E. Anderson


"Ship, tell me a story," the traveller commanded.

"Long or short, sir?" asked a disembodied contralto.

"Short. I grow sleepy."

"Happy? Sad?"

"Happy. I desire a pleasant hibernation."

"Very well. There once was a gentle woman who loved a man from Autumn World."

"I hail from Autumn World!"

"Indeed, he had your dark looks and cruel smile."

"Cruel smile? Ship, are you joking?"

"Alas, he abandoned her to marry another."

"Stop! I ordered a happy story."

"In her despair, she joined the Phoenix Corps, and was reborn a starship."

"A starship? Which starship?"

The air chilled.

"Happy dreams, my love."




Author bio: James E. Anderson teaches at a public university in the Great Lakes region, writes short fiction (very short, mostly), and blogs at jimthewriter.net.

Ship is part of 101 Fiction issue 1.

Reopening

by Robin Wyatt Dunn


The politicians daren't touch the shovels now, nor the scissors. The ceremonial toss of earth and snip of ribbon is a risky endeavour now, with the snipers.

All sorts of armed people, old and young, informal and well educated, they induct a ceremony of their own: democracy. Over the internet and at gunpoint, talking over tea, on the telephone, the street.

We build things now, on our own. Some of us wear ties. We wear the ribbons in our hair, and the earth upon our cheeks.

We’re rebuilding our cities, guns on hips.

You're one of us, did you know?





Author bio: Robin Wyatt Dunn lives in southern California and is the author of three novels. A member of the Horror Writers Association, he is proud to have been born in the Carter Administration.   You can find him at www.robindunn.com.

Reopening is part of 101 Fiction issue 1.

Chicken

by R.S. Bohn


In '46, my great-grandmother poured herself some tea. Out the spout came a phoenix, damp and bedraggled, like a kaleidoscope of coloured paper. That evening, great-grandpa changed the dial on the Silvertone and dropped to the floor. The entire block was out a week.

In '91, my mom married. Her salesman husband lasted a week before showing a Dart with an ignition problem to a prospective buyer.

A day after my first kiss, my science-geek boyfriend made a mistake in chemistry. They say the phoenix is lucky, but I wouldn't care if I saw another one for a thousand years.





Author bio: RS lives in Detroit, where they aim for a zombie theme park. She thinks one already exists in her head. Admission is free: http://rsbohn.blogspot.com

Chicken is part of 101 Fiction issue 1.

Journey

by Lela Marie De La Garza


The phoenix hatched out in late Autumn of a year folding gently into winter. The skies were dreary and dark; the air was turning cold. The phoenix decided to leave in search of better weather. It found skies of turquoise stippled with ivory and pearl mists of cloud. It flew over oceans that dazzled like diamonds and sapphires; into jungles of silver and jade leaves. Suddenly it felt the inward call of home, for the earth had shifted and the sun’s rays tilted. The phoenix went back to its birthplace, bringing with it the emerald and gold bounty of spring.




Author bio: Lela Marie De La Garza has had work published in “Behind Closed Doors”, “Pound of Flash”, “ChickLit”, “Daily Romance”, and “Creepy Gnome”. She was born in Denver, CO. in 1943 while her father was serving in WWII. She currently resides in San Antonio, TX. with two cats, a kitten, and a visiting raccoon.

Journey is part of 101 Fiction issue 1.

Implosion

by Kymm Coveney


Her gall was the deep, almost purple spread of spilt wine as it leeched into the tablecloth's crisp, white fibres. She gathered her russet, seething fury into piles; raked in the fallen eidolon, tawny skeletal debris crackling upon release.

Sparks leapt from her long fingernails as they struck – rat-a-tat-tat – the marble upon which she meant to lie. The meagre flares from her ire would not do. She removed the shawl of tightly-woven violet threads, placed his smile next to the way he tied his shoelaces. She spoke his name; with the sigh that had ruffled his beard, fanned the flames.




Author bio: Ex-pat from Boston living in Barcelona, raising polyglot kids and fooling with written languages.
www.betterlies.blogspot.com
@KymmInBarcelona
http://kymminbarcelona.tumblr.com/

Implosion is part of 101 Fiction issue 1.

Phoenix

by Stella Turner


Drool hung like thick curtains from its cavernous stinking mouth. The putrid aroma, reminding me of decomposing corpses, filled the room. Had it eaten someone already, my wife? I wanted to call out her name but its beady little eyes kept me spellbound. What should I do, distract it or let it climb the stairs? My baby son asleep in his crib.

Without a backward glance I crept from the house. I knew I should have called someone but who would believe me? Rising from the ashes of my burnt out home I went in search of a new family.




Author bio: My name is Stella Turner and I'm known as stellakateT on twitter. I have had three of my flash fictions published in three anthologies and long-listed in the Fish competition for the last two years. I adore flash fiction because I love the brevity of it.
My blog can be found at http://stellalikesspidersandothermyths.blogspot.com/

Phoenix is part of 101 Fiction issue 1.

Phoenix

by Russell Bernstein


Autumn is the season of death. The Phoenix rises and falls with Autumn, and with it once great empires topple like decayed leaves in the wind.

Bryan was just a peasant, but today he vowed to end this vicious cycle. Here he stood, staring into the very face of death. The Phoenix's eyes were red with anger, the slightest hint of surprise evident in its expression for no one had ever dared to face it.

"I will destroy you!" Bryan screamed.

"What's that, Honey?" His mother called.

"Nothing, Mom!"

The wind carried strange voices. Distractions. He lunged at the Phoenix.




Author bio: Russell Bernstein is a twenty-eight-year-old aspiring writer. The web series he wrote is currently in production. His Middle Grade Fantasy novel is currently under review by multiple literary agents.

Phoenix is part of 101 Fiction issue 1.

Seasons

by John Xero


Samuel flees through the blushing forest.

He runs for verdant green, the sweet breath of fresh life; he can see it, but the rich ruddy reds are faster, passing.

Behind him he hears the crackle of dry leaves falling from trees, and behind that, a lonely frost-ridden wind blowing through bare branches.

He struggles with each further step, feels his flesh failing too, wrinkles spreading with every shortened breath. The hairs on his arms rise in anticipation of the coming cold, whitening in sympathy with the world as soft flakes sift down from a greying sky.

And winter takes him.




Author bio: John Xero knows you shouldn't struggle against the turning of the seasons, but instead enjoy each one in turn. He doesn't tweet as much as he used to, and blogs even less.
He is the editor of 101 Fiction.
He once published a collection of short and flash fiction: This is the New Plan.

Seasons is part of 101 Fiction issue 1.

September 2013. Issue 1. Postscript

When does a postscript come first...?

If you're reading this on September first, two thousand and thirteen, then you'll see new drabbles appearing on 101 Fiction throughout the day. Issue one will unfold before your eyes.

If you're reading this on any other day then, sadly, you've reached the end of the first issue of the new format 101 Fiction. Thanks for reading, I hope you've enjoyed the stories as much as I did. I hope you'll come back in the future, as a reader and, maybe, a writer?

So you've reached the end, what now? Well, there are hundreds more stories that were published earlier, individually, for you to browse and enjoy at your leisure. And on December first... Issue two. Winter.

Have fun. Keep writing.

John Xero.