100 word stories

I ran across this concept of 100 word stories the other day. I am sure that it has been around for quite some time and I am just not with it and hip. This is nothing new to anyone, right? Anyway, I decided to start doing some as little exercises to help make some of my writing a little more coherent. Occasionally, I will post a few in a blog here and there. Here are a few of the ones that I have written lately (titles not included in word count, thank you).

Bitter Homeless

                I watch people move past me as fast as they can, so careful not to touch me with any part of their body. It’s as if they are afraid that my poverty is catching. I want to reach out and touch them to see if their fear is real.

                Maybe then, I will see them at the soup kitchen, or on the corner of Main and Charleston begging. That would teach these busy people a bit of humility and compassion for their fellow human beings.

 I mumble, “Bless you,” as I am pelted with change. I live on their crumbs.

((100 words exercise. 9-14-11))

Taken Away in Memory

                She tasted sweet and sticky.

I can still taste her on my tongue and breathe in her musky scent. I can feel her thighs clamp on either side of my face as I lie here, helpless.

Memory of her is almost enough to put a bit of wood in my pecker. It’s the only thing that has come close in years. The pills never worked for me, which made me sad.

I’m beyond caring now, thankfully. They’re going to turn the machines off soon.

There is silence, and the sweet taste of her coating my tongue, stealing my breath away.

((100 word exercise. 9-14-11))

Thoughtful Zombie

                I thought that I wouldn’t remember anything once the virus took hold of me; that I would be totally consumed by the insanity of blood lust and hunger for flesh. What is impossible to relay to anyone, because all I can really do is scream, is that I recognize everyone around me, but I don’t care. I want everyone to die in a shower of blood while I sup on their still beating heart. The screaming the do as they die is music to my ears and brings a momentary stillness to the pain in my mind and my body.

((100 word story exercise 9-16-11))

I will admit that the last one is more of a nice little paragraph to a scene in the zombie's point of view than a story, but I think that it was a good idea nonetheless. 

Please, I welcome feedback and critique. If you are uncomfortable leaving a comment, feel free to shoot me an email.