Archive for the ‘100 Word Story’ Category

I was walking below the towering sea cliffs, deep in my customary habit of scrutinising the artistic qualities of my environment, when a peculiar rock, no bigger than a tennis ball demanded my attention.   The rock was wedged in the cliff’s foot, its surface the blackest black I had even seen, it was as if I were looking into nothingness, a void.

Instinctively I reached down to retrieve it, when an unexpected voice spoke within me, “leave it where it rests, the rock is where it needs to be, dislodge it and the cliff might fall.”  The cliff remained standing.

 

© Paul Nichol    January 2017

“Excuse me, there appears to be a dead fly in my fruit salad”, the woman in blue dress protested.  The temptation to ask her how she knew it was dead was overwhelming, however I professionally suppressed the invitation to mock and instantly placed an expression of utter revulsion upon my tortured face.

“A fly Madam!  Dead!  In your fruit salad.  My apologises, please let me replace it at once.” I earnestly insisted whilst moving forward to retrieve the untouched plate from the table.  “I can assure you the fly was most definitely alive when I brought it from the kitchen.”

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© Paul Nichol.  2017

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Rejuvenation

Winters skeleton shimmers

Warm flesh of Spring stirs

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© Paul Nichol.  2015

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It was a simple act of kindness, which amounted to nothing more than a few unexpected words, shared between two middle aged men on a crisp December morning upon a pavement, as the sun began its long ardours ascent into the cold, steely grey sky.     

 

To any onlooker the events of that moment have seemed unremarkable and they would have rightly dismissed the encounter as nothing more than the sharing of social pleasantries between old acquaintances.  However, they would have been wrong.

 

What transpired was far from normal for one of those men, although he would never admit it.

 

© Paul Nichol. 2014

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‘Build an Ark!  Why on Earth?’  Paul’s wife scoffed as he told her about his dream.

The Church congregation stared in bemused silence as Paul proclaimed that God had spoken to him.  ‘He has instructed me to build an Ark.  Will you help me’? He pleaded.

‘Why would God speak to you? You, a non-believer?’ the Priest asked indignantly, as they waited in the wet street for the police to arrive.

The Psychiatrist was unavailable, as the rain was torrential and his house waterlogged.  I have lost everything he told the Custody Sergeant.

Paul knelt in his cell and prayed.

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© Paul Nichol 2013

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Sophie had only ever experienced the joys of living; however, the finality of death had been extremely traumatic.   She now understood the precariousness of life, and yearned only to find God in face of death.

Sophie travelled in the hearse, wishing to accompany the body as it made its final earthy journey.   The Priest spoke tenderly to his mournful congregation, leading them in reflective pray and onwards into the crematory.

Supported by the undertakers, Sophie reached the open grave.  The oak coffin was gently lowered into the bowels of to the earth, prayers were uttered for Sophie’s soul’s final journey.

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© Paul Nichol 2013

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A passing tanker discovered the Pinafore Dog abandoned in the mid-ocean.  Its crew recounted that on boarding the yacht, they found no signs of life.   The sails were stowed, the sea anchor deployed, all seemed shipshape.  The only evidence off the missing crew was the unwashed plate and single coffee mug discarded in the sink.

They found the ship’s log.  Written on the open page were the words, ‘Swimming against the tide, will be the death of me’.

They hoisted the Pinafore Dog aboard, and formally recorded the coordinates.

With all his might, Jack frantically swam towards the departing vessel.

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© Paul Nichol 2013