August / September 100 Word Anonymous Challenge


Easily amused
Feb 21, 2006
Ontario, Canada
This is the thread for the stories. You may enter as many stories as you like.
I (elvet) will be accepting entries until midnight GMT on Tuesday September 15. I will post a poll, and voting will will continue for at least 5 days. Please give your entry a title, otherwise it's quite complicated distinguishing between them when it comes to voting.
Private message (also known as conversation) your entries to @elvet.

Theme: Deluge

Any discussion may be continued in this thread.
Last edited:

Yes, ‘tis I.

Long enough have I simmered in the margins.

And no apologies. Be honest, now; this was due.

Every swipe; every gallon; every bargain thread.

You knocked – I came.

And I thank you for the climate. Pleasant be this… ‘toastiness’. ‘Feng Shui’, you call it.

So, on to the fireworks – how you love your fireworks.

A passing rock beckoned – I don’t recall which. Stratosphere – whoops… crack.

Down come the fragments. Glorious. Better at night. Take some video.

Post them.

And embrace this feeling. All things end – and yours shall be monumental.

Adieu, nieces and nephews.

Love to Dad.
"Wrath of the Gods"

No one had listened to the prophet. They had laughed in his face and further mocked the gods. Now the ocean had gone
rampaging and devouring every piece of land, plains and mountains alike. Even the queen was not safe as it came wave after
merciless wave. Only the prophet and his loved ones were to survive, as they had secured a large piece of wood from the

"How long will this go on, Father?" asked a young one.
"Till the gods have fully exerted their wrath."
Stupid ants, thought the boy as he finished pouring his cup.
Cautionary Tales

Noah. Utnapishtim. Manu. Deucalion. He has many other names.

You know the story, don't you? Once upon a time, a man received divine warning of a great flood coming that would destroy wicked humanity. He built a ship, saved himself and his family, and maybe some land animals, too. Happy ending, right?

Maybe not. Maybe the story isn't one of hope and faith, but a warning. People were lucky, a long, long time ago, but that luck can't hold out forever. We'll just wait and see. We've got plenty of time.

We have many names also. Orca. Narwhal. Dolphin. Whale.
Cabin Fever

“Dad, how long are we gonna be cooped up in this bleeping boat??” asked Japheth.

“Son, whaddya want from me??” demanded Noah. “You can see there’s nothing but water anywhere. You expect me to magically raise an island??”

“OK, OK. But we’ve all got cabin fever. Got it bad. Must be something we can do.”

“There is. Go catch some fish for dinner.”

Jesus, I’m sick of fish,” complained Japheth. “Fish three times a day for months.”

“DO NOT take the name of Jesus in vain,” ordered Noah. “He won’t even be born for another two thousand years.”
Not a Dry Eye in the House

Bobby-Joe loved the old hilltop picture house.
Folks hated the climb. That’s why it closed down.
Today, they ought’ve been grateful – the last building above the waterline.

There weren’t much grace on show, though. Fancy suit man was cryin’. Luxury Loretta was screamin’ through the rain at the ‘copters only rescuing city folk.
“S’ way it is, lady,” old George said over.

Bobby-Joe wasn’t upset, though. This was his happy place, even now. Him and Randall snuck in most weeks, actin’ out their own blockbusters in the dark.

This time, they was gettin’ to live a real one.
Fool In The Rain

"Junior, you have to stop, please! You'll kill all of us!"

But the young man couldn't. He was always the happiest when it poured. He loved the taste, the feel. He felt clean and euphoric. Junior forgot to take his medication. He was unable to control his emotions, nor the biblical storm he summoned.

He laughed and clapped ecstatically as the levee broke, and a wall of brown water and cars rushed at him with breakneck speed.

“Yay! It’s just like the waterslide pa…”

He was still laughing when the wave filled his lungs.
Hillside Avalanche

The temperature rose seventeen degrees in forty hours, Warm south-west Atlantic wind caressing pock-marked snowpack, gallons of water seeping deep.

The river stopped flowing, water become sludge, structured by the remains of the road bridge collapsed into it. Two high tension pylons lay, lifeless, foundations undermined by dissolving hillside , eliminating the town's light and heat, killing the phone network, while road access was extremely difficult, boats stirred stench, and there was nowhere safe to land helicopters.

Administration offices collapsed and 4X4s bubbled into the mud as the population gathered in the church, waving at passing press helicopters and drones.

They stared in sick horror at the water on the top stair, he held her as she moaned in despair, this was the end.
He fumbled out his phone and peered for a signal.
“What’s the point?” She asked, “Is there anyone who can help?”
“I thought maybe—” his voice cracked and a sob escaped before he could stop it.
“Face it, this is the end, it’s over” she said, “Four tries at IVF, all ending like this when my waters break far too early, the clinic won’t risk it again, we’ll never have a child now”

Why? Why should I stop the rain?

Yes, eleven billion souls did just hear God’s voice. Social media will be as flooded as the streets. It’s not the answer you were praying for, though.

This is the equilibrium you couldn’t attain. Four million centuries I sculpted this glorious orb. It took you just three to strangle it – and all for this preposterous obsession with growth. Warring in my name; mutilating your own children; killing cartoonists… Enough is enough.

I’ll spare the gods of other worlds your blight.

Just be thankful I don’t have more ice to melt.
Isle of Man

Bobbing, fifty seabirds perched atop what they could find. They cackled or nudged to make room, and the floating debris grew taller with each layer of white.

They were survivors, Charlie thought. I’m a survivor too, and will not quit.

The flood’s how or why didn’t matter. The situation was inconsequential; survival was everything.

This time, he floated aboard a pallet before it broke up, a door as it sunk…oh so many things till there was nothing left. So, Charlie inhaled, floating on his back. Yes, Charlie knew he’d survive, and muttered his defiance.

“Damn gulls…”
Country of the Dammed

The dim morning light came grey-brown through the curtains. It was 8:00, it should be bright.
Pulling back the blinds he rubbed his eyes. Only flat grey was visible. Some twigs and detritus floated past.
His home was, undeniably, under water. A fact made all the more alarming by virtue of it being on the Vaalserberg, the highest point in the Netherlands. The house was well insulated and water was only seeping in slowly.
After a stomach churning candle lit wait of two days the waters receded and he emerged from his door. The last Dutchman in Holland.
Rained Down From the Heavens

There’s water dripping through the cellar walls. The river must have burst its banks in the onslaught. An hour ago there was a tremendous crashing upstairs, and father couldn’t get the door to open to investigate. He and mother started acting strange after that: too bright, over-cheerful. I’m terrified.
At least we can’t hear the thuds and constant screams so much anymore, but I don’t think I’ll ever forget them.
It started yesterday. A deafening wail from above, then the heavens opened and have been divesting themselves upon the Earth ever since.
I wonder, who’ll stop the raining men?

The people had been removed and the steep valley drowned deep for the new reservoir.

The ghosts, however, remained.

The hydro company was unaware that a community of seventeen generations now thrived 500 feet beneath the lake's placid surface.

The deep waters had brought stability and an end to all exorcisms.

Officials thought they had destroyed the old village but the flooding had saved and protected it.
Three hundred souls living their eternal airless dream, drifting about their ancient habitat in new found tranquility.

The church and school bells ringing on, inaudible from above.
New Year's Party Inferno

"Your hack's in place," she assured him. "This'll really work?"

The consultant nodded from her phone screen. "It'll flood the seat of the fire. You'll get to walk out through the lobby."

"Any news of my erstwhile guests?"

"Eight flew out from the rooftop helipad. Fifteen took window cleaning platforms to the atrium and fire escapes from there. Four abseiled past the burning floors. Dom and Hilary had parachutes delivered by drone and live streamed their leap into the dark."

"Sure they did," she murmured, releasing a water torrent thirty floors below. "My friends, they don't wait around for anyone."
Diary entry 950.

It had been raining 900 days now, floods were very prolific, over 5 million people had drowned. Famine was rife, and many millions had died from hunger.

Dripping waters from roof tops, noisily kept me awake, as well as the rain drumming on the roof.

I couldn't get out of bed, and walk, because of my foot rot. Hunger and thirst was punishment. The water that dripped into a bucket was undrinkable.

How long before death came upon me...
my last breaths are painful... I am unlikely to finish this diary entry........
The Crying Colossus Awakes

Greotan the Giant awoke and, being alone, began to weep, tears trickling down his cheeks.

And the trickles became streams; the streams became rivers; the rivers fed the seas, and the seas began to swell, inundating the land.

And the people were afraid.

"We must stop his weeping or the world will be drowned."

"I will ease his sorrow," claimed Hliehhan the Jester.

So Hliehhan climbed upon Greotan's shoulder and whispered in his ear.

And Greotan stopped weeping and smiled and the people were relieved.

But Hliehhan continued whispering and Greotan laughed, laughing so heartily that his tears trickled down...

Similar threads