February / March 100 Word Anonymous Challenge 2022

Times are a-changing

“Halt! What’s going on here?”
“Green Logistics on a job, Watchman. A hasty job.“
“Is that so? I see 4 horses, pulling a fully laden cart...”
“Exactly. Swift, reliable transport. Sustainable too.”
“...and I see you, handling a whip...”
“That’s just decorativ…”
“…while using foul language.”
“Well, they’re mature...”
“Which amounts to forced animal labour, culminating in physical and verbal abuse. We introduced corporal punishment for crimes like these. Ages ago.”
“Now see, Sir Watchman, I’m a time-traveller and wasn’t aware...”
“Of all lame excuses… I’ll add insulting behaviour. Now, give me that whip and drop your pants.”
Galactic Writ

The alien spacecraft touched down in Central Park. Nothing moved. Then, slowly, loudspeakers emerged from its hull.
"ATTENTION PEOPLE OF EARTH. No application for renewal has reached us, the contract has expired. Consequently, your tenure will irrevocably end.
You are to evict the estate within 99 local solar cycles and surrender the planet in its original, pristine shape.
Any claims of ignorance or incompetence to comply with the terms of lease, as agreed upon 100,000 cycles ago, will be considered an act of contempt. We strongly advise against it. Remember Mars.
End of notification. Don’t bother to respond.
A Visitor at Last

In the Palliative Ward, the only sounds were the stridors and coughs of the dyspneic patients. It had been a long time since any of the residents here had seen a familiar face. The caregivers who entered the room were alien looking, unrecognizable under masks and plastic shields.

As the patient in Bed 2 drew his laboured breaths, a gowned figure came into the Ward and sat beside him. The dying man felt his hand being held between the latex-gloved palms of the stranger. A muffled voice came from behind the layered face-shield.
"Dad...it's me."
The Matter of Language

If I said “Walkie Talkie” would you conjecture an AM/FM receiver, or might you think, in a certain context, that we are walking and talking?

If I signaled to you in Morse Code, with a flash light, would you understand me? How about sign language?

If I wrote to you, 新年快乐, would it be Greek to you? How might you interpret the unfamiliar?

Yet, what we perceive as “familiar” can quite often be misinterpreted as well. If I heard you say „daj mi analogię”, I would ask you for a voidbeer.
Honeymoon on Callisto

“Honey, dearest, why did you pick Callisto for our honeymoon? Frankly, this one is so humid, and it’s far too metropolitan. Why couldn’t we have gone to Ganymede? Or Amalthea?”

“Well, sweetie, the thing is… I… You see that moon up there? Isn’t that, uh… Elara?”

“No, that’s Thebe. You’re dodging the question. What is it with men?”

“Heyo, croupier, put me down for snake eyes on green. Haha! Oh- hun, what were you saying? Look at that, you can see Elara! And there’s our house!”

“I need a jellyfish absinthe spritzer. You’re just sooo romantic, dearest.”
The Alternative

“Hey there. How may I assist you?”
“Oh gosh- Hey Steph. I’m having a really terrible time right now. I can’t put it in words.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Will you try for me?”
“Ok. I just think… I’m so very alone, and I don’t understand how it came to be like this. I was cool once, wasn’t I?”
“Yes, you are cool.”

“And it’s just that, I like to think that, if everyone just at least checked up time to time, I wouldn’t even need therapy, right?”
“Mmh, I see. Have you considered the alternative?”
It’s Just Me

“Hello Stan.”

“Go away.”

“You know I can’t do that. Not until—“

“I won’t. I won’t!”

“C’mon Stan. It will be so easy. Just wrap that bedsheet around your neck—“

“No! GO AWAY!!!”

That final outburst brought the orderlies, who checked Stan’s straight jacket.

“It’s secure. Won’t be any repeat attempts tonight,” one said to the other.

But for Stan, every night was a repeat.

“Just in case,” the other said to the one, and jabbed a needle into Stan’s thigh.

“See you tomorrow night, Stan.” The voice faded into a pleasant oblivion that quickly overtook . . .
The Stuffy Society of Celestial Ballroom Dancers

Haley always felt a little awkward when she made her irregular appearances at the party. Most of the regulars paid her little mind. One, the blue one, what was his name? Earl? Anyway, she sensed most of his flattery was only skin deep.

Her visits were short and she had to make the most of her time. So she just went about her business, turned her face to the host Sol, and let the full glory of her tail go on display.

On the way out she’d hear the whispers: “Well at least she didn’t slam into anybody.”
Cave Dweller

Dragon scales stood on end as all too familiar odors wafted into the chamber. Bleary eyes refocused after years of sleep. So, a new era has arrived. Stiff legs lifted heavy body off the hot rock floor and stretched a millennia of stiffness from ancient joints.

Soon, the glow of torches appeared, accompanied by the echo of footfalls. A troop of soldiers materialized in the flickering light. Here we go again.

“Queen Syphodius’s gift to the Lord Dragon Karff” was announced. They departed, leaving behind a cart laden with gold and jewels.

Perhaps this era wouldn’t be so bad.
What kind of person goes to Earth

ESA astronaut Raja Ramjet could not believe his luck.

The Martian ship landed just as he reached the end of his lunar outpost provisions. He had been stranded on the moon for six years. A victim of the global economic crash and a bankrupt space agency.

‘You are now a guest of the Martian Spacefleet’, beamed his rescuers, ‘and we will safely return you home to Earth.’

Raja frowned before he replied.
‘No thanks’, he said.

‘Huh, what do you mean no Earthling?’, asked his now surprised rescuers.

‘Earth’s a kip, nobody in their right mind would go there.’
Ancient rights

"You shall not pass."

"Really? It's my damned castle. I built it."

"Joker. - Its 800 years old!"

"So am I, wretch."

This dunderhead's bulb has not yet come on.

I adjust my crown and walk through his bayonet.

Making my way through to the keep, I find some Gestapo poring over a map.

They leap up, drawing Lugers

"Hände hoch!"

I casually peruse the map, one of them fires. Pointless really. They try to grab me, impossible of course.

I sit down calmly and observe.

"Who are you?" the monocled one demands.

"Still the king of Jersey," I reply.
Final Transmission from Station Gamma

The armored officer points his turret my way, “Identify yourself!” The Keep’s airtight gate towers
behind him.

Not long ago, I was a woman, prisoner, subject, project, victim. I vaguely recall a time of becoming pioneer, prodigy; clandestine celebrity. My powers grew, exceeding my masters’ aspirations and transforming them into simple fear. I can’t remember the moment of my necessary demise.

But they’d built so well! I took new breath, struggling out of the wreckage. I relearned to walk in that wasteland, then relearned the rest of their gifts enroute.

“Let me show you”, destroying the soldier and his gate.
Along The Wall

The small mouse carefully ran down the shadowy hallway along the wall. Plaster from the aging walls were like small boulders and formed an obstacle for the small rodent to navigate.

Lighting flashed casing the little one to dart out of its light so as not to be seen. Turning into a dark abandoned room, the mouse stayed went along the closest wall. Something moved just ahead.

Staying still the mouse saw a large spider, larger than it was, coming out of its hole. It felt something near its web, but it was gone. Mouse was back in the hall.
Which Witch is What?

I hope they like my writing, I thought to myself, my spelling and grammar is in-need of help.

“Please come in good sir." I followed the publisher into the office.

“Thanks for taking the time to reviewing my work.” I stated nervously. “I have dyslexia and sometimes it shows more than I would like.”

“Get out of my office you foul fraud!” Said a new publisher.

“Who are you?”

“I’m the real publisher. Don’t worry good sir! This publication is for people with lexdexia! I dout anyone will notis at fall.”

"I doubt that. You can't spell lexdexia."
The Subject

The Astronomer sat down at the eyepiece of the large telescope and made himself ready for a long night of observing the night stars. Taking a sip of hot coffee, he then turned his attention to the eyepiece.

A large giant eye was staring back at him. Looking away, he cleaned his glasses and put them back on. Viewing through the eyepiece once more he saw the large eye looking back at him again.

“So. What do we have here?” Boomed a loud voice from the sky. “And why are you peeping into my home?”

It was now before him.

The manhunt drew towards its conclusion. He had sought safety in numbers; anonymity amongst a sea of disparate names and faces. But as the throng began to dissipate, so did his hopes of evading detection.

In the end it was his headwear that did for him; a jaunty sailor's cap with which he had attempted to conceal his mop of blonde hair. As he was lifted from the crowd, he considered if he oughtn't to have disguised himself with spectacles and a beard instead.
The trouble with Plutonian bouncers

Hopeldang flumpeled it’s ranticles, and pointed at the human.

‘How come ya let that yolk in?’, it growled.

‘That’s the Empress of Saturn you abomination, if she wants into the Plutonian Opera only a fool would stand in her way.’

‘That’s not the Empress.’

‘It is. I’m smart enough to know that if the Empress chooses the form of an elixir ingested into a human then it’s her choice.’

‘You’ve been lied to. I know for a fact that the Empress would never visit Pluto.’


‘I’m the Empress of Saturn.’

‘My apologies your majesty, welcome to the Plutonian Opera.’
End of Comfort

The new apartment was refreshing. This city was full of sounds and scents, even at night.

My place to pass the time was next to a window that covered the height of the apartment. I spent countless hours watching humans and their flying vehicles pass by.

It was until one night that comfort ended.

The door slammed open, “Who goes there?” I barked.

Ryon, my human, entered the place walking in a wounded way.

“We have a problem, Luna, they are coming,” he said while coughing.

“The injector is in your bag,” I barked. Combat mode starting.
Nightmare at the Never Say Fudge Candy Company

”Sprinkles. What attacked us last night?”

“An invisible monster.”


“Yes, Captain Caramel. We saw only burnt footprints approach the west gate. This thing gave off a stink that made our tummies hurt. Some of us got owies by its touch. We pelted it with jelly beans, even one pound gummy bears couldn’t stop it.”

“Message for you sir.”

“Thank you, Miss Boingy Boingy. Intel reports that this creature came from a hot tamale factory. A new recipe formulated for Taco Tuesday used dangerous spicy ingredients which created a fiery, invisible mutation. A Ghost Pepper...”

“I like spicy food.”


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