Summer 2009 100 Word Writing Contest Winner

- What's New?

"For those who are timid or unsure of the power of blogging, this class is perfect for them."

- Octavia Randall
Nuclear Medicine Technologist

"How to Blog I offers a hands-on approach to blogging. It takes the mystery out of the blogosphere and gets you on track to create the blog of your dreams!"

- Cynthia Pike-Fuentes
Public Relations Executive

More Student Quotes Here

Summer 2009 100 Word Writing Contest

Winner

Doorstep
from David Poplar
Philadelphia, PA

I only slept with her twice, so I didn’t want to jump to conclusions. Who knows how the roses ended up at my doorstep.

Afraid to invite them in, I kicked them to the sidewalk below. It had only been three weeks. It couldn’t have been her.

At the restaurant that evening, she asked me if I liked her gift. Suppressing my surprise, I told her I loved it and just how I intended to thank her.

It wasn’t until we were within sight of my doorstep that I realized going back to my place wasn’t such a good idea.

Runners-Up

The Blank Page
from George Kulz
Cumberland, RI

On Monday, the words wouldn’t come. Malcolm couldn’t conjure up a single definite article or preposition with his pen. Nothing.

On Tuesday, an eye-sized hole appeared in the paper. He tried not to panic, but the words still eluded him.

On Wednesday, the hole expanded to the size of his clenched fist. He took a break. The paper followed him everywhere. There, on the wall. Now, on the fridge.

On Thursday, the paper clung to his clothing. He couldn’t shake it off.

On Friday, he woke to a hole the size of his head. And he discovered it had teeth.

Recycled
from Willa Hogarth
Sapphire Beach, Australia

Waist-high weeds and gone-to-seed plants flutter in mourning. Gardening – Mick’s job. My nose wrinkles at the smell of decaying spinach. His favourite. A hot pain burns my chest and I close my eyes as tears prickle. The pain thuds down into my stomach. Damn him!

I yank the plants out. Hurl them into the compost. March into the house, pick up the urn and stride back. His ashes pour like water onto the earth. I dig and dig. Stop. Stare at my hands and clothes splashed with grey flecks. He’s all over me! Uncontrollable laughter. He’d love this.