QUICKIES
100 words. Every day. No exceptions, no foreplay, no pulling out early.
Here's the deal. A Quickie is exactly 100 words. The last line has to blow your mind or I posted it prematurely.
Allen Wrench
Building a bookshelf piece by piece while my father-in-law judges from the recliner. He has no idea what it's going to hold.
Cold Plate
An old man sits alone in a diner booth for hours, working crosswords, his food untouched. A 100-word story about the quiet reasons people stay.
The Chair
A small boy tries to hide his nerves in a big barber chair. A 100-word story about a first haircut — and the secret his uncle is keeping.
Folded
An empty 1am laundromat, an impossible act of kindness, and a voice that shouldn't be there. A 100-word weird-fiction quickie by Ricky Butts.
The Alarm
The bank is locked. The alarm is armed. The janitor is alone — until the power cuts and the footsteps start. A 100-word modern-noir quickie.
Walkthrough
pre-approved buyer, a staged master bath, and the worst possible parting line at an open house. A 100-word dark-comedy quickie by Ricky Butts.
The Stranger's Dog
A woman walks her dog through an empty park at night. Her poodle knows something is wrong before she does. A 100-word story you'll read twice.
The Handoff
Five evenings. One father, one daughter, one bicycle. And across the street, a neighbor watching — for reasons only the last line will explain.