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81words - Stories Page 4

81words logo

An attempt to set a World Record for the most contributing authors published in an anthology

Full details about the 81 word writing challenge and the world record attempt can be found on the main 81words writing challenge page.

81 Word Stories – 301 to 400

Stories 201 to 300 are published below in the order they were received.

Story 301

Vampires Anonymous

by Daniel McClaskey

Everyone is staring holes into my pigmentless skin, so I should probably say something. I've been dreading this week forever.

Shakily, I begin, "Hi, my name's Ste... *cough* ...Abigor, and I've been fanged since 1884."

In unison, "Welcome, Abigor," drones from the room.

I look around and a lady in the back of the room catches my eye. She has those ambiguous green, brown eyes that I've definitely seen before. Her scent reminds me of a time before the bi...

"Mum?"

Story 302

A Toy Car

by Saras Ojha

A five year old saw toy cars on a street market stall. He started pleading for a toy car, but his mum refused to purchase one.

"A toy car is useless, you can't sit on it. Our car is better than a toy car."

He grabbed a toy car, sat on it and it broke.

"See, you can't sit on it."

Memories flashed back when he was standing before a huge crowd, waiting for the launch of a car he'd designed.

Story 303

From Behind The Curtains

by Kimberly Owen

He risked another look from behind his stained curtains. His garden crawled with them, making him itch. They were standing on his flowers. Damn, them.

All his lights were off, not that it stopped them. It never did. They always came back.

A cluster passed in front of his window, screeching. Wincing, he stepped back into the shadows. If they saw him, they'd never go away.

Their knocking scared him, even though he expected it.

"I hate blasted trick or treaters."

Story 304

Burn

by Chris Pritchard

The light was hot yet still so delightful. I couldn't resist it's lure. It drew me in no matter how hard I tried to resist it's sweet temptation.

Every time I touched it my feet were scorched, yet still I could not stay away. I knew that this was pointless but my brain wouldn't let me leave.

Suddenly, the light was gone and I was in darkness again. I could now rest my wings. It's a hard life being a moth.

NOTE: Stories 305 to 321 have been written by children and teachers from Northside Primary School in Cumbria - you can learn more on the school's website.

I'd like to say a big thank you to the school and all the children for submitting such imaginative stories to the 81 word challenge.

Story 305

Coffee Spilt

or

Me And The Teacher

by Grant O'Townson

What has happened to me? Where am I? Mankind is disgraceful… My shredded, smooth paper is damp and ruined.

Previously, I was in the best condition – the greatest of the great (brand new). I was the teacher’s favourite book. Nourish me with the warmest, smoothest, most luscious ink and I’ll create fantastic, indescribable adventures; you will never forget these memories.

However, hurt me like the teacher did (covering me in coffee and discarding me in the bin) and I am worthless.

Story 306

Who Could I Be?

by Byron Coulson

Wow, he’s really outstanding at this. How can he do it? He has most certainly won me this time. Nobody can stop him from taking me home.

Oh no, someone is catching up to him. No, please don’t. It’s astonishing. I don’t want the meanest and worst player out there to take me home; I want the greatest to take me home.

Yes, he’s finally triumphed; he’s taking me home. He’s going to put me in the trophy case he has.

Story 307

Me And My Owner

by Shauna Elizabeth Murray

Why did you do such thing? We were so happy, I thought you loved me. We were so close. I thought we would be together forever. You let me down.

I guess sometimes we have to be let down. No one will ever love me again (crying). At least I was loved for a little while. Is it because I’m the ugliest thing in the world?

I’ll never forget you or forgive you, my nicest, friendliest, loving owner. I miss you.

Story 308

Max And The Boom Box

by Levi Earl

Yesterday, I was sitting happily with Max, crooning, and his parents wanted to hear me sing too, so Max took me to his mother’s room and I sang for his parents.

Then, later that day, Max turned me off so that I could have a sleep to get my energy back. Then I became the greatest and loudest boom box to ever exist.

Now everyone is saying that they’re going deaf. It made me feel low-spirited, because they are getting deafened.

Story 309

Me And The Smart Robot

by Mckenzie Tompson

I found a robot, so I took it. When I got to my house, two days later, I learned nearly everything from it. I felt like I should be the top of my class. I wish...

All the robot was doing was learning with me and playing with me. That really was a lot of fun.

As I am being clear, I have had the best fun ever over the last few days. Me and the robot became really good friends.

Story 310

The Bulldog And The Poodle

by Keith Pearson-Sandelands

I’m called Scratch. I’m a bulldog. I’ve always wanted a dog friend – in human language, a girlfriend.

I’ve never known what it’s like to have a girlfriend. It must be wonderful. We could have pillow fights and romantic dates, if you know what I mean.

Ladies, if you want me, my phone number is 225678921.

But enough messing around. It was the big day. I’m not going to be lonely anymore. I went to meet her, and she was a poodle.

Story 311

That One Worker

by Madison Pickering

Finally, I’m done. I’m the greatest and best. I’m covered in sparkly white casing stones and as big as a gigantic sky scraper. Who else wouldn’t want to be like that?

Every day, for years, I got one tiny stone put on me (it took so long.) But there was a worker who ruined it. He knocked the full top of me down. That took months, and that is why I am so, so happy I’m finished.

And that’s my story.

Story 312

Why Me Again?

by Kelsey Juean Irving

What? Again? Racking my alarm, they are a lot of bullies – me always getting hurt, put new skin on me, and open my mouth all the time. They are really tight, so they are bullies.

Wait… don’t say they are shutting me down for two full weeks. That’s just not necessary. It is freezing, but I will be open in one more hour.

Look, I am open, come in kids. The jolly, kind, sweet school is open now. Come and learn.

Story 313

My AMAZING Friend Bill

by Darci-Leigh Robinson-Askew

My outstanding friend has an amazing name: Bill.

Every sunny and hot day, we go for long strolls in the park. He is the nicest friend I have ever had. The greatest of the great, the loveliest of the lovely.

One day, me and my great friend went for an amazingly long jaunt. Suddenly, I fell. My smooth, flat tires were broken. Bill was hurt to. It was like my childhood all over again (it was hurting me badly). STOP IT.

Story 314

The Pen And The House Of Terror

by Harley Logan Thompson

Once there was a glamorous pen who lived in a tidy pot. He was sick of getting his dreadful ink out of his body (his lid).

He missed his precious friends; they had all died. He got put into the house of terror and for him it was hideous.

Heart- broken, hurt, wistful and glum – he didn’t want to die alone. In the house was a big black bag. He wanted to say, “Goodbye cruel world,” but he couldn’t speak now.

Story 315

Fashion Life

by Paige Murray

Why am I in this unprepossessing, dreadful yet puffy toy box? I should be on the red-carpet, in the spotlight. Can it be the light to fashion heaven? I don’t need it, by the way, but still…

Ugh, it’s that sinful beast; I don’t want to see you. No, not now – my nicest dress. Don’t change; it’s so special to me. That dress is old, rotten and stinky. I need my clothes back. I’m the most alluring doll in the box.

Story 316

Spring's Near

by Josh Joseph Dixon

Spring is near; I can’t move, I’m stuck. Forlorn, I’m leaving. Stop spring, stop.

It has been the best year so far, I don’t want to leave. I met the perfect person. Why is everyone dynamiting everyone’s hearts? Stop please, stop.

I want to stop, I’m crying. I like snow and I don’t want snow to go. No sun, don’t want the sunlight ever. I need more time to improve my snow sphere, because I was just a pile of snow.

Story 317

Me And My Lonely Life

by Layla Calarco

Hi. I am a frog (who is nice). I live on my own in frog land. I have a very unusual addiction for looking for a friend.

Wait a second, there is a beautiful frog over there. I should actually call her a lady. She is coming over. I think this will be the start of my best. I am timidly very.

Hi. Please can I stay with you, please? Yes, we are having the best life ever. Yay. Bye bye.

Story 318

Abandoned

by Finlay Thomas Tweedie

Once, I was an intelligent, high-tech computer. I had four main parts: the monitor (my body), the pc (my flesh, bones, heart and brain), the keyboard (my arms and legs) and the mouse.

My owner used me for years on end; I was the best computer (in his opinion). Until, he had another companion… He deleted my most predominant files. Where was I? I was no more.

I have one message. “Mankind is the worst and most degrading species on Earth.”

Story 319

Who Am I?

by Keian Murray

I was the shiniest in the house, until I got thrown into the basement with some other stuff. They had a shiner thing and I was on the largest shelf where there was lots of dusty stuff.

The next day, and nearly every day, stuff was getting thrown into the basement. Then the humans came, put us in a bag and took us outside. They put us in a bin, until the bin men came, but I managed to get away.

Story 320

Spooky October

by Thomas James Busby

People believe I’m the spookiest thing existing. But people think differently.

Yes, I’m invisible, but it doesn’t make me terrifyingly spooky.

I can see your every step but you can’t mine. Perhaps I float, or maybe it’s just a lie/fiction.

Do you dress up as me for candy/sweets? Or do you not? Maybe you don’t dress.

You may think I’m the cutest, nicest existing thing, but whatever you do, prepare for a spooky fright on the spookiest night of frightening October.

Story 321

Life Of A Box

by Ryan Fell

I'm resourceful to put things in. Yes, I’m a box. I’m a mat black box made from tin.

My owner (who is nice / awesome) uses me to keep his massive Yu-Gi-Oh! collection, like: Watt Kid, Dark Magician, Feral Imp and – the best card on the planet – Exodai. He also has the slick, smooth and shiny blue eyes of a white dragon.

My favourite place to be – Yu-Gi-Oh! It is awesome being a black box.

I’m serious, it really is everybody.

NOTE: End of stories written by children and teachers from Northside Primary School in Cumbria

Story 322

Fear

by Layla Ahmed

As I reached for the handle my hand was trembling. Fear was soaring through my body. My veins began to pulse as my heart race quickened and I could feel every hair on my body stand to attention.

I slowly turned the handle until the door opened a fraction, allowing a stream of light into the room. Every ounce of myself was telling me to slam the door shut, but I was determined.

Today, I would finally step outside my house.

Story 323

A Place To Meet God

by Helen Matthews

Mum hands me a dog-eared flyer and says, "Rock concert. Your chance to meet him."

The venue stinks of sweat. The lead singer's face is craggy, his hair unnaturally black. But the drummer's new: polished, arrogant – and young. I fix my eyes on him.

Guitars pluck faint childhood impressions, but the mellow voice has faded to cracked falsetto.

As I queue for merchandise, he smiles, uncertain, memory misfiring. I stride past the rock god – my father – and head towards the drummer.

Story 324

Uncowed

by Kolade Ajila

The cow bounded towards me as I turned a sharp corner, two burly butchers hot on its heels. I turned and fled.

The enraged cow charged at an old, weak-looking man working in the vegetable nursery nearby, bent and absorbed in his occupation. He looked up suddenly, saw the approaching cow, its horns poised. Calmly, as though he had spent eternity in anticipation, he grabbed the horns and twisted, bringing down the cow, its pointed horns buried in the soft earth.

Story 325

And The World Will Burn

by Kimana McCallum

When the fire bloomed inside of her, burned deeply from within, then it was too late for the world. This was her destiny; to destroy the world as it was and create a dark world, ruled by the gift of her flame.

She was destruction. She was anger. She would be God. She would be punishment. She would be all that there ever was, and all that was meant to be. Her name is Angelica, and she will bring the end.

Story 326

And The Dogs All Barked

by L J King

The miniature Lurcher started it, a high-pitched, "Raow, raow," her muzzle pushed through the gap in the gite's hedge.

Hidden behind, the Labrador added his deep, "Woo, woo."

Babette and Bijou, lazing in the barn's shade, wagged their tails. "Ow ow, ow ow."

"MAIR-duuuhhhh." Metal banging rang from deep inside the barn. Him was underneath his beloved Claas, repairing the sabotage. "Ta gueule."

But the dogs kept barking until Irina reached the lane.

She smiled, mounted the bike and pedalled away.

Story 327

Sandwiches

by Ally Cook

Brenda shook raindrops from her umbrella and left it blocking the porch beside her muddy patent shoes. She hung her coat and removed her black pillbox hat, teasing the veil back into place. At her age, she'd need it again. She lifted her glossy black handbag and padded into the kitchen.

"Brian." Brenda’s hand flew to cover her mouth.

"Want lunch?" Brian waved the butter knife.

"No," Brenda said, passing her hand through her husband. "I had sandwiches at your funeral."

Story 328

Don't Wish For What You Want

by Jane Sleight

"I love you, Chrissy."

"Enough to leave Sarah?"

"You know I won't leave the girls."

"I won't wait for ever."

"Just until they're old enough."

"For what? A pension?"

Gab's eyes narrowed. "Don't pressure me, Chrissy."

"You're right." A penny dropped. Did she want him all to herself? In her home 24x7? No freedom to see other people? Holiday alone? Eat garlic bread without guilt? "You're right. Let's just stay exactly as we are."

She'd never seen him look so afraid.

Story 329

Don't Travel On A Friday

by Shirley Muir

She's dodging suitcases and tripping over baby buggies as she dashes for the 10:06 to Leeds. If she misses her sister's wedding, she'll never be forgiven.

Escalators are mobbed with Friday crowds jostling to descend to the train platforms. Squeezing through the gap she slides into the barely-used passenger lift, breathless. Its doors swish shut. The lift's lone passenger, she presses 'Down' and leans against the wall.

"This lift is now out of service," a voice announces. The power flickers off.

Story 330

We Wanted Him To Be Happy

by Mary Prior

"We wanted him to be happy," his mother said. "He wasn't very social you see, didn't make friends easily. Didn't like fluffy things either, so we couldn't have fluffy pets."

"We thought it would be good for him to have something to look after, to be close to. He used to sit watching the TV with her," said his father.

"She wrapped herself round his neck, you see," said his mother. "She didn't mean to hurt him. Pythons are like that."

Story 331

Conditions Of Entry

by John Cooper

To enter you must ensure:

  • You know why you are doing so.
  • Your work must have taken you many days, even weeks, to complete.
  • You are proud of it.
  • You don’t want it back.
  • Your work is original or at least not derived too closely from a previous winner.
  • You are able to negotiate the tortious payment methods used to pay the entry fee.
  • You accept the judge’s decision is final and,
  • You are OK with the disappointment of not winning.

Story 332

Nectar

by Ruth Pedley

Pale lemon with a hint of grass. Pétillante. Fruity on the palate.

I stretched strong roots into flinty soil. The Rhenish nuns in the Abbey of St Hildegard tended me: a tendril trimmed, rotting grapes taken. 

In the mornings I was woken, chilled and saw white mist in the valley.

Then months of daylong night in cellars, lulled by lauds and vespers.  Now a spider fingertips octaves across the barrel.

I am pulled into slim bottles. And poured.

Swirl. Savour. Slurp.

Story 333

In The Name Of The Father

by Simone Wallace

One by one, they trickled down the aisle, each holding one object.

"A tie for the businessman," said the first.

"A set of car keys, his hobby," said the second.

"His favourite novel, for his love of reading," said the third.

"A photo with the family," said the fourth.

"A copy of The New Testament," said the priest.

They placed these memories of who he used to be on the closed lid of the coffin.

"In the name of the father."

Story 334

Be Thankful

by Carolyn Ward

Get to the body within three minutes of death, and she could suck life back in. Her 'reverse-vampirism' tasted like a frozen cobweb. She travelled the world and was heralded as a goddess, a miracle worker. Grateful, tearful family members pushed money and gifts into her eager hands.

Nobody asked the dead-borns how they felt about it. If they wanted another life. The blood in their veins was sluggish, their eyes dull. But they always managed to smile, in the end.

Story 335

An Extraordinary Life

by Lisa Miller

Dan seemed to have lived an unremarkable life. His obituary read: Dan Jones died at age 78. An accountant, he's survived by his wife and a son. He cherished his dog, Blue, and grey sports car.

At his funeral, an unknown homeless man stood up and spoke. "Dan was a remarkable man," he said. "For over 20 years, he brought me lunch to eat with him in the city park. Never missed a day."

A surprise for all who knew Dan.

Story 336

Eco Chic

by Wendy Roe

I used to spend money on clothes without thought beyond my immediate impulsive desire. Sometimes I think of all that money spent on things I never wore and I can imagine it piled up high in a mound on my floor. I would like that money now.

I have since become an eco-conscious person and have learnt wearing something over and over again is sustainable. Less shopping means I have more money in my purse, instead of imagined on my floor.

Story 337

Drunkard

by Charlotte Ward

I hear him shouting and peer into the living room. He notices me and begins demanding another drink. I refuse and walk away – surely he has had enough?

He follows me, hiccoughing madly into the kitchen, then slides on the floor, bashing his knees. He howls in pain, but won't let me help him up.

"No more," I say, firmly, then relent as his face begins to crumple. Resignedly, I fill up my toddler's juice cup and give it to him.

Story 338

A Way Out

by S Thomson-Hillis

You go to the woods, you find a body.

Here are the rules. Walk away. Head up, eyes front.

They'll be here soon, the bone collectors.

Instead you stop.

Death is the only escape. After a thousand years of nothing, you've been punished enough. You need to try. This is your chance. Who killed him? How? Kneel. Touch. Examine. Be careful, they're coming. Footsteps, lights and crashing, they're here.

But you have your answer and there's only one question.

How much?

Story 339

Memorials

by Anita Goveas

Fiza's last jump forward is to her brother's funeral. Hundreds of people crowd Hyde Park, silent but weeping. There're only open-air cremations in this time – no more space for all the bodies.

Ibrahim stayed to look after people, but she never stood still, zooming into future lives, going back to learn lessons. She'd thought that would be how she'd use her power, leave her mark. Searching out triumphs, bringing back wisdom. Warning of dangers.

No one listened. They won’t mourn her.

Story 340

Breakup

by Stephanie Ngoei

The letter lays open for the 37th time in two weeks.

She thinks she might have memorised every word by now, but, pathetically, she's only managed to recite up to the first three words before the rest deteriorates with a gyrating blur that sends her mind reeling in an unescapable direction, smarts the corners of her eyes and tightens the vines around her heart to the point of utter strangulation.

She can't memorize the letter, so she memorises the pain instead.

Story 341

There’s Something About Anne

by C.R. Berry

"We have to go back," said Juliet.

"What about them?" said Fred.

"They'll have to come with us. They certainly can't stay here."

"But Juliet... we love her."

"I don't care, Fred. Come on. Let's go clean up your mess."

Juliet opened the hatch to their time machine. Fred climbed inside, followed by Fred, Fred and Fred, then Juliet herself.

As the time machine dematerialised, Queen Anne Boleyn entered the room, accidentally kicked her husband Henry VIII's severed head, and screamed.

Story 342

The Struggle

by Andrew Perry

When I've lots of jobs to do, time passes incredibly slow. When I've nothing to do, time stands still. What I needed was time to go slow when I'd lots to do and time to go fast when I was bored.

So, on a day when I had lots to do, I did nothing. Success, I had all the time in the world. Unfortunately, I now have a long list of things to do and no time to do them in.

Story 343

The Visit

by Dean Hollands

Despite the warm spring breeze and dancing sunshine, the cemetery was eerily silent.

Drifting leisurely between the headstones, Dean paused and reflected upon the epitaphs and dedications to those now resting below.

A voice croaked, breaking the silence.

"Who you are looking for?"

Still scanning the headstones before him, Dean replied, "My father, William George Hollands, born 7th April 1945."

"Plot 24. Row C3," came the reply.

Turning around, Dean faced the voice.

"Dad?"

"Hello, son. I've been waiting for you."

Story 344

Why?

by Sophia Manubay

Why do people believe in religion?

Why is A before B, and B before C?

Who thought of the alphabet and number sequences and how?

A lot of things in life make me curious.

Like, why do people prefer certain animals over others?

Who defined what 'normal' is?

These sorts of questions go through my mind every day.

It's kind of like a computer running the same code, over and over again.

Computers always find solutions and find new problems.

Why?

Story 345

Black Maria

by Christian Obaitan

She was an abomination. How could such a lowly woman give birth to the king? And not by her husband, but an unseen spirit. Surely, she must be mad and unfit to raise a child.

Her fruit was taken from her. She was banished to a camp for people like her – helpless, condemned womb-men.

She never opened her arms again for, even in death, she cradled her child.

Mother and child, torn apart, would reject life to be united in death.

Story 346

Threedom

by Oort Kupier

"Freeze," he said.

We didn't move. Three scared individuals. We were squaring things up when the situation had escalated.

The soldier’s radio amplified the urgent reply, "Nein, nein, nein."

27 words had taken us to that moment.A selection of syllables, transformed into words and sentences. Now it was certain, they had uncovered our scheme.

Three 18's.Barely adults.Combined age of 54.

One runs.9mm flies. Body plummets to the floor.

Graffiti reads, 'The price of freedom.' Berlin wall, 1981.

 

End Of Page Note

I hope you enjoyed reading the third page of 81 word stories. You can find links to hundreds more on the main 81 word writing challenge page.

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