February / March 100 Word Anonymous Challenge 2022


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 11:59 GMT on Tuesday March 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.

The discussion thread is here

Wisps of fog crawled through a moonlit maze of boulders. The warrior Kha paused to sniff the air. Her dark, vulpine face bore a frown.

"Stinks of ghosts." She drew a silver dart from her satchel.

"Undoubtedly," the geomancer Volen said. "I trust your weapons will defer their malevolent intent until we are long gone." He waved a pair of willow branches in an intricate dance. "Here!"

The geomancer dropped to his knees, grunting with the effort of lowering his heavy body. He drew spirals and ellipses in the sand.

"It is done," he said. "The Unknown God may rest."

We could hear them at night. Boots and chains with the occasional braying horse. They marched through the lounge, invisible.

Aware that our house was built over an ancient Roman road, Marianne had picked up a Roman silver tray, at auction, and mounted it on the staircase wall.

One night I woke, to visit the bathroom, and caught a moonlit reflection in the tray.

There they were, the marching legion.

They stopped. Marking time on the spot, shaking the whole house. The tray fell from the wall and rolled downstairs.

Their march resumed.

We never found the tray.
The Zenolob of Beezie's Island

Abslod thought back to his arrival on Beezie's rock. The lightkeeper he replaced looked pale and withered. A year alone miles from shore had taken their toll.

'Did ya see the Zenolob?', Abslod had asked. It was a joke. Such a thing could not exist.

'Nope, only birds out here. They often crash into the lighthouse. Ya learn to ignore the knocks.'

Something about the way he said 'knocks' spooked Abslod.

Enough to nervously open the door on that misty first night.

'Are, are you ...the Zenolob?'

'Indeed, pleasure to meet you, that last lad was deaf as a post.'
Trojans Bearing Gifts

The North Ikarian guard startled as the Southern guard approached.

"Who goes there?" demanded the Northerner, rifle ready.

"The great nation of South Ikaria offers you a gift."

The visitor smiled and presented a wooden box. The Northern guard grimaced.

"What is it?" he barked.

The South Ikarian only smiled and bowed.

"We accept your present. Now go."

The Northern guard dismissed the foreigner, gun still trained on him. When he
was out of sight, the North Ikarian lit a match and set the box afire.

Meanwhile, the other met his superior.

"The cure for cancer has been delivered, sir."

Lets go and party!​

She kissed me awake.

“Hey, sleepy! It’s still early. Let’s go and party!”

“Where?” I asked.

“The City.”

“Seriously? The guard droids will kill us!”

“Don’t worry! Kimmie works in security. She told me the password, even though she hates me right now.”

“Why does she hate you?”

“You know, silly!,” she said, playfully punching my chest. “She wants you but I won’t share.”


Later that night a droid caught us near the east wall.

“Who goes there?”

“Oranges and Lemons.” she said

“Who goes there?” it repeated, this time raising its weapon.

“Oh sh*t!” she said, realization dawning.
Incognito ergo sum

Private Halfmilkcarton and Lieutenant Bungalow of the Martian Space Force prepared a Photon Torpedo, and hailed the approaching ship.

'Attention spacecraft, you are approaching Earth blockade. Change course now.'

'Impossible, I don't exist.'

'You do, our sensors detect it.'

'Sensors don't always work.'

'Uh, I suppose that's true, never thought of that -still, they're all we have to go on.'

'But those sensors could be simply tricking ye into thinking I'm here.'

'Well Halfmilkcarton, what do you reckon, do they exist?'

'Hard to tell Bungalow, the ship has reached human territory.'

'Wait ...what? Dammit, those sneaky Neptunians fooled us again!'
Fire Starter

"You don't belong here"

I felt myself dim as he breathed down me. I quivered. I had nowhere to move, so I sat and took whatever came next.

"Fire people aren't real people" he persisted. I had little choice but to persist too, silently. But I felt myself quell. In the teeth of his fury, I looked up. I imagined every word I could say to make him see otherwise. Instead, I burnt whatever was left inside me.

The wind carried my embers away.

Maybe one would start a fire brighter than me. I hope he meets that ember.
A New Dope (-o-)

"Password please."


"Nobody enters the Emperor's chambers without the password."

"But it is I, Lord Vader."

"Lord who?"

ou new here?"

Yessir. First day on duty, Mister....?

"Not Mister, Lord. Of the Sith."

"Oooh, Lord is it? We are high-and-mighty. Bring back the Republic, I say."


* * * Shortly * * *

"Vader, what've you done to my nephew?"

"Your nephew? He was... disturbing me, my Master."

"You've death-gripped my sister's boy!"

"Errr... can't we say he was eaten by an Ewok?"

"Good idea. Phone her for me, will you? You think you've seen me in a bad mood..."
Wormhole Wide Boys

Wormhole Warden Wyatt snared the asteroid in his tractor beam.

“Toll please!”


Wyatt’s gaze wearily wandered the dreary control room of the Sol-to-Orientis wormhole lens station’s – his obsession for trans-wormhole Warcraft whilst slowly devouring every movie ever made had tempered his decorating enthusiasm.

“I know you’re not a real asteroid.”

More silence.

“X-Ray scan shows something that looks suspiciously like a X36 Starpod hidden inside a fibreglass boulder prop – and a cheap one at that.”

Still silence.

“Plus there’s the subspace streaming signal…”

Wyatt heard a muted groan.

“Dammit Dave, I told you, ‘download your entertainment before we leave!”
First Contact

Attention all humans!’

Professor Jemima Sockenlozenge smiled at the cameras.

‘It has taken my team six years to crack the code -the message has four words.’

She turned to a large digital display.

Standby’, she said.

Near Earth object ARU4551 had followed an unnatural orbit through our solar system.

The loudest radio burst humanity could generate sent ARU4551 one simple message.

We, the humans, are here.

Near Earth object ARU4551 paused, sent a response, and continued on its way.

The world was spellbound. First contact. Humans are not alone.

A cursor blinked on the display:

  • Keep
  • The
  • Noise
  • Down

A police telephone box in a world of cellphones? Even cops themselves don't use them any more, despite budgetary restrictions. As camouflage went, it didn't go very far.

Still, there was one environment where it fitted perfectly, not merely concealing itself but drawing attention away from some otherwise rather visible entities. At a fantasy convention, weird costumes, exotic cosmetics, and strange masks or built up heads. Who's going to suggest one might actually come from Gallifey? Or take it seriously?

Inside there was space for everyone I had invited: crew, talent, directors. And nobody destroyed Earth, again.
Who passed there?

Amplifier smokes and sparks, crumpled loudspeakers still emitting occasional death rattles. A guitar neck swings in the middle of the ruins, attached to its body only by the strings, surrounded by ruined drumkit.

Even the green 'way out' signs, the only remaining light, make it clear that no musicians remain, just the loadout crew to put the gear into trucks to the next gig.

The audience were still there, screaming and demanding "MORE!", but there were no musicians in the wings waiting with encores, just technicians and roadies. Probably in limos already, or bunks behind trucks' cabs.
W.H.O.'s responsable?

The blue hoods of the trucks almost matched the guards' helmets, the vehicles almost as ramshackle as the medics transported.

Mister Consultant Charemese was overqualified and grey with exhaustion. He had first-year students, receptionists, orderlies and half-trained soldiers, and one retiree with some skill, who was tottering, but directing. No this century gear, antibiotics, no sterile theatre, five times as many patients as beds. Civilised countries attacked epidemics with vaccines and targeted drugs - they had carbolic, soap and cleanish drinking water. Mediaeval remedies rejected by Hippocrates,

World health? But you couldn't just let them die, and weep about it.
Density of the Daleks

"Who goes there!"

"Who goes where?"


"Who goes there?"



"Who's there!"


"Not who, Who!"

"I'm sorry, but I'm really getting confused now."

"I am your Supreme Commander, Davros, right?"


"You are a lowly security Dalek, right?"

"Right again."

"I am informing you that Doctor Who is over there."


"And I want you to go and exterminate her."

"Well, why didn't you say so in the first place?"

"I did!"

"Where is she then?"

"She's gone!"

Things that go scrape in the night

Pte. Jem Duggan woke to a finger over her lips, and the terrified face of Sgt. Connolly.

Take this. If we both fire into its eyes it’ll buy enough time to run for the shuttle’, he whispered, handing her a loaded sidearm.

‘Did you alert Spacefleet?’

No time, it’s been up on the roof sharpening its anterior blades for hours -the thing knows we’re the only humans on this planet.’

‘The roof? Are you sure that wasn’t squirrels Sarge?’

That’s what it was …thank God, I didn’t know this planet had squirrels.’

‘It does. What d’ya think it was?’

"Who goes there? Friend or Foe?"

"Still dragging that old arquebus around with you, Harb? Probably safer for me if I say foe, no? But I don't expect spies or assassins to answer truthfully. Below their dignity."

"Dignity? Almost officers, give them summat sharp, call surgeon."

'Brought yer breakfast. Amberrry, Bulnot's intended."

"Mmm, good. Intended? Perhaps, with war…

Ground troops for conflicts were drawn from farming communities, who'd been intermarrying and cross-breeding centuries before nobles arrived. Battles were choreographed like round dances, lacking the fiddle and pipes. War as a sport.

Who would guess the sentry and th.e scout were on opposing sides?

The opening portal drowns their senses in sound and light and deposits an undefined figure beneath its primordial arch.

The guards raise their weapons and look on.

Cary sees an angel, borne up by a rolling vortex; Marlin, a demon who's heated gaze sears his skin; Steph, a jinn atop a pillar of fire, and Craig, a grey skinned alien.

Cary shouts. "Deactivate your obfuscator, you dolt!"

"Sorry," the time agent shouts back. "Left in a hurry, yeah?"

"No," Marlin replies, forever the contrarian.

"If you're a stranger walking in Dark Age Londinium," the agent explains, "you'd best be immortal."
Once a Foe...

Droid 1: “Who goes there? Friend or foe?”

Droid 2: “Foe.”



“Are you sure?”

“Yes. What did you want me to say?”

“‘Friend’, I suppose? I don’t really know.”

“You ‘don’t really know’?”

“Well, this has never happened before. I’m fairly new and it’s always been ‘friend’ up until now.”

“I’ll tell you what, let’s swap roles and I’ll show you how it’s done.”

“Really? That’s awfully kind of you.”

“And, to add a bit of realism, I’ll stand in the sentry box and you stand here…

…that’s better. Now, who goes there? Friend or foe?”


A Bot and Costell Hoo

As I approached the top-secret facility, a guard droid sprang into action.
"Halt! Identify yourself."
"No, I'm Hoo. Yoo'll be here later."
"No, Watt couldn't come."
"Who couldn't come?"
"Yes I could. Watt can't come."
"What can't come?"
"But I'm asking about you?"
"He's coming later."
"Who's coming later?"
"No, I'm Hoo. Yoo'll be coming later."
"I don't understand."
"Look, it's quite simple. I'm Hoo, Yoo'll be coming later and Watt can't come."
"Does not compute!"
And with these cliched words, sparks began flying out of the droid's head, which spun around and exploded.

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