Here is your prompt. Do you see a butterfly or a moth? What’s going on in the background? What about the color? This may look like a simple image, but I bet you can find more than enough for a good story!
One-hundred words on the button, please! Post your tiny tale in the comments or at your own web home with a link back to us. Tag us on Facebook so we can see you, too.
Now, go tell us a story!
UPDATE: Awesome Allie is in first with a cool story in the comments. Mine, entitled “A Good Day’s Work” is ready for you at Jimorama.
Latest posts by Jimmie Bise Jr (see all)
- Fiction Friday 100-Word Challenge: A Gift Exchange, Maybe? (And A Thank You, Definitely!) - December 27, 2019
- Fiction Friday 100-Word Challenge: A Winter Village, Maybe? - December 20, 2019
- Fiction Friday 100-Word Challenge: An Elf, Maybe? - December 13, 2019
I always wondered what it would feel like to actually get hit in the face. It had haunted me for years. I’d seen other people get hit and frankly, it made me nauseous. The sound is what really freaked me out. So here I was, so mad nothing made sense. Especially my hand balled in a tight fist ready to strike a blow with everything I had. It’s hard to explain. I wanted to jump out of my skin I wanted to get at him so bad. I could barely breathe, I’m pretty sure I was crying, but I didn’t care at the moment.
Then out of nowhere, it came. Milo Jenkins had obviously been hit in the face before and was paying it forward. The last thing I heard was a Nasty, thundering crunch. The last thing I saw was a butterfly, I think.
I. Am. Speed, she thought to herself.
This was her second race in butterfly form, but she was living for it. She never expected the transformation to feel so liberating. She also never expected other butterflies to be so competitive.
She raced across the open meadow. First one to the tree won the chance of a lifetime; the chance to remain in this form. She had longed for a new form after her last transformation. She hated being a bumblebee and desired this beauty as a butterfly. This was her chance. This was her moment. Only 100 feet to go.
“Focus, Stella.”
She didn’t know what she was supposed to see. She’d been squinting her eyes for so long her face hurt. They told her she was special. She wanted to believe them, but she felt like a failure.
“There’s nothing there.”
“Just because you can’t see doesn’t mean there’s nothing there.”
She rolled her eyes and sighed. And then she saw it.
A swarm of blue descended on her. The beat of fragile wings felt like a soft breeze, and if she hadn’t been able to see the ocean of butterflies surrounding her, she never would have known they were there.
“What are they doing, Zora?”
“Welcoming you.”