May / June 100 Word Anonymous Challenge 2023

elvet

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This is the thread for the stories. You may enter as many stories as you like.
DO NOT POST YOUR OWN STORIES IN THIS THREAD.
Private message (also known as conversation) your entries to @elvet.
I (elvet) will be accepting entries until 11:59 GMT on Wednesday June 7. 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.
MAKE SURE WHAT YOU SEND ME IS YOUR FINAL VERSION. I cannot guarantee that I will l check in within the 1 hour we have for an edit. To make it fair for everyone, the story I get is the one that is posted.

GENRE: SCIENCE FICTION/FANTASY
TOPIC: LUCK


The discussion thread is here .

PLEASE DO NOT COMMENT WITH 'LIKE' ON THE INDIVIDUAL STORIES.
 
I’m the Luckiest Thief Alive

The thief felt fortunate finding a small cave in the middle of the forest, as a band of Orcs had been tracking him for some time and he needed to rest. From its safety, too much relief, he watched as his pursuers ran by.

Then a raspy voice within the cave whispered, “Don’t more or you’ll die.”

The scaly walls and ceiling of the cave lifted as the Dragon stood, outstretching its wings, and attacked the Orcs. Too scared to push his luck any further, the thief did as he was told and lived to tell the tale.
 
The Immigration Office
The light turned red as the immigration booth sealed. It opened empty to the smell of disinfectant. The person ahead of me didn’t pass. Very few were allowed into the city, most never make it. I nervously stepped into the booth and was scanned, the light turned green and was ushered through.

“Welcome new citizen!”

“How did I?”

“We have a strict ‘Cyborg Only’ policy, and you passed!”

Cyborg only? But I’m not a ,,,could it be the steel plates on my skull? No.

Behind me the light turned red, the booth sealed; opened to the smell of disinfectant.
 
Retirement Gift

“Why so glum?” said the woman at the bar.

“Last day in the Galactic Bureau of Investigation. I’m retiring.” I replied.

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Maybe. But I never captured my nemesis Monviati, the Holo-Bank robber. I came close, but he kept surgically modifying his appearance, even his race! Anyway, he’s screwed me for the last time.”

She came to my hotel (not bad for a gnarly fifty-something GBI vet, eh?).

In the morning she was gone.

“No payment,” said the checkout man. “The Lady covered it. She left her name…..yes, here it is….Monviati.”
 
Call It What You Will

Was it Luck when they attacked Utopia Basin as I witnessed the memorial to Well’s get destroyed as its debris crushed me? Or as I laid watching the dust storm approach through my cracked helmet, like a veil for the dying?

Was it Luck I was found lifeless and hauled away with others to be sorted and numbered? My body scanned and painfully shocked, filled with drugs among other things?

Was it Luck that I awoke after being in a coma for who knows how long, only to learn I Cored seven times?

Luck? I call it a fluke.
 
The Twig That Granted His Wish

‘Here boy! This twig is blessed with the morning dew and smiled upon by the day!’ My son ran over and held it confidently to the sky.

‘This is it, Athair! The wand that’ll grant my wish!’

‘Well, give it a go!’

‘Rabbits be dare, rabbits no fear, rabbits come and dance near!’

And with that, the rabbits came jumping and frolicking around us.

‘What chance to fine this wand, Athair!’ He proclaimed dancing and jumping about.

‘Aye me Fuaim, me little lad. It is!’ I kissed his brown hair with luck, as only a Leprechaun could give.
 
The Lament of the Frustrated Reader of Science Fiction and Fantasy (With Apologies to Creedence Clearwater Revival)


Some folks are born zoomin' through space

See them big starships fly

Ten thousand light-years away from your home

Just to meet some green guy

It ain't me

It ain't me

I ain't no astronaut's son

It ain't me

It ain't me

I ain't no fortunate one



Some folks are born magic wand in hand

Castin' spells left and right

Fairies and leprechauns waitin' in line

To grab the dragon's next flight

It ain't me

It ain't me

I ain't no sorcerer's son

It ain't me

It ain't me

I ain't no fortunate one
 
Try Your Luck on Tyche

I walked into Midas, the last Tychean casino on my schedule. After minimal observation,
I joined in on a game of poker. I peeked on the three others' minds and, soon afterwards,
ended in a very favorable position. Blackjack, craps, and baccarat unfolded similarly.

As I was about to leave with my winnings and starship, my vision became kaleidoscopic.
Before I knew it, I was in a dark room with a somber man.

"You used telepathy," he said, "You're hereby banned from Mad Midas forever."

I left, but not before setting my starship's trajectory to Universe 340 Tyche, laughing silently.
 
A Lucky Find (And A Loss)


Last Summer I holidayed in a fishing village, some miles along the coast from Burnstow.

My hobby is beachcombing, and strolling along the shingle shortly after the tide had receded, I happened across a small bronze cylinder half hidden amongst the seaweed.

Retrieving it, I discovered what appeared to be Latin words inscribed on the object; but not being academically minded, was unsure what they signified.

A strangely ominous sensation suddenly came upon me; so replacing the cylinder back where I found it, and turning my collar up against the growing wind, I made my way back to my lodgings.
 
Better Off Dead?

Ed stepped outside to collect the morning paper. A lawnmower buzzed nearby and the air smelled of freshly cut grass. Inside, his wife and two children waited with fresh coffee and scrambled eggs. It was typical suburbia and Ed was content.

Except it wasn’t. Ed’s body was destroyed by the war. His brain was kept alive by a team of scientists in a hidden research facility, searching for ways to return casualties back to the battlefield in deadly bionic machines. The illusions were just part of his induced coma.

Luckily — for now — Ed was none the wiser.
 
Buttonhole

Local chisellers had hacked away the runes protecting the storeroom window.
"They broke the wards," I explained, "removed the glass, then pushed a child inside."
The Mage's daughter studied the opening. "Just wide enough for a tray."
"How many you lose?"
"Six… that's nearly a thousand four-leaf clovers? But you'll catch 'em, Detective."
I was out of my depth with anything magical. "What about all that engineered luck?"
"Stored together, their fluence cancels out."
"So, I wait until they split 'em up?"
"Maybe not." Grinning, she handed me a single clover. "Wear a fresh one each day, until they're caught.
 
The Luck of Bon Gobbonticle

Bon Gobbonticle grappled with the unusual combination of words:

'Fungal catachlysm?'

'Yes, every human must immediately board one of the arcs -you arrived on Earth just in time, the last humans will be evacuated today.'

'And how long will the trip to Andromeda take?'

'Forty years, but you are youngish, with luck you'll live to walk on solid ground again.'

  • As a child Bon had stowed himself onto a Perscean Freighter.
  • But found spacefaring a brutal existence.
  • For thirty years Bon planned and executed a return to his home planet.

Which was when he first heard those two words together.
 
Waste of Life


“Hold up… You’re sentencing me to death?”

“Correct. You fired a missile at a civilian airship, killing eight people.”

“But it was just an accident! It’s not like I’m a bad guy or anything.”

“Irresponsibly operating a weaponized vehicle is a serious crime.”

“Irresponsible? Ask my crew if I’m irresponsible! It was just a very badly timed sneeze. Are you saying it's irresponsible to sneeze?

“If it causes the death of eight people, then yes.”

“C’mon, man. Don't do this. I got two dogs at home… Whats the point of executing me?”

“To uphold the law. Your sentence stands.”
 
the world lies waiting

H-T-H-H-H-T-T-H-T-T-H-T-H-H-H-T-T-H-T…
"Can't read this," the Mage complains.
"That's a tee, that's 'ach…"
"What's this?"
I squint at the crowded parchment. "Tails!"
The Mage grimaces and returns to the doorway. "Make distinctive marks - I've hired a sprite to analyse all this."
"Fine, but why'd you have me tossing coins all week?"
The Mage looks thoughtful. "Everyone has magic… even you, yes?"
"A smidgeon, sire."
"How'd your coins fall?"
"Tails… always."
"Not here… no sheen here… and no need for magical thinking."
"You did that?"
He nods. "I want to know… is there luck without magic?"
"Of course! Has to be… right?"
 
Good Luck Will Rub Off

So here I am wearing my lucky underpants. I'm about to blast-off on the first solo mission to Mars, so I'm not leaving anything to chance.

"Mission control here. We have detected some extra weight aboard. Did you take on anything unauthorised?"

"Well, there's my four-leaf clover."

"That wouldn't register. Anything else?"

"My rabbit's foot."

"Fairly negligible. Anything else?"

"Just the horseshoe hung over the door."

"What? Well that partly explains it, but there's something heavier. You sure there's nothing else."

"Oh, there's the chimney sweep. You know, for shaking hands with."

"I think we'd better abort."
 
A Fist Full of Luck

”You were just lucky”, the Lieutenant said wiping his brow.

“Really? I took half of you out with just three rounds, and you are calling it luck?” I said eyeing them while sweat cut my eyes.

“You’re an old man with an outdated gun of a forgotten age, so...”

I thrusted my 1911 into his face while doing a single-handed choke hold on his friend.
“I have six rounds left; do you feel lucky punk?”

His other friend reached, I smiled and fired. “Well punk, do you still feel lucky?”
 
The Changing of the Charms

"Thanks for freeing me boyo! For your reward, you can have one lucky charm!"

"OK, a Four-Leaf Clover!"

"Environmentally corrupting."

"A Blue Diamond?"

"On backorder."

"A Magic Rainbow!"

"Massive copyrights issues!"

"How about a Lucky Rabbits Foot?"

"How does a lawsuit by the firm of Bugs, Peter and R. Rabbit sound?"

"Well, what do you have?"

"This ball of earwax! It’s magically..."

"Disgusting!"

"No, pliable! You can make it into any charm you want, and it’s a renewable resource. I collect it when helping the Tooth Fairy you know."

"In gold?"

"It’s your lucky day!"
 
Marion Morrison on the Lucky Sod Story Show

An interviewer began, “Mr Morrison. How do you account for all the good fortune in your life?”

Marion held up his hand, “It began when I won the magic ring in a card game. I’ve had years of great luck since I put it on. I’ve never taken it off.”

“May I see your ring?”

“Sure”, he said, removing it. Suddenly a bolt of lightning struck Marion. The Earth opened up beneath him causing his chard body to fall into it. A monstrous creature crawled out of the cracked floor and snatched the ring from the interviewer. “Damn thieving humans!”
 

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