Grazed

I give to you a story in eleventy-one words... (Click on the 'Loose Grate' label to read the entire story)

The giant scooped up the fat one into his enormous hands as the beast launched from the ground. It opened its jaws much like an alligator and aimed for the fat one. But once it opened its jaws, it could no longer see the target, a minor evolutionary disadvantage for the otherwise deadly creature. The giant turned its back, shielding the fat one. The beast missed the intended target. But its transparent teeth grazed the giant’s arm, drawing blood. The beast landed on its feet, swiveled, readied to attack again. It made the motion to pounce but fell down dead instead. Beside the expired beast, the tall one sheathed his stick.

The Princess and the Sword

I give to you a story in double eleventy-one words…


The ground trembled.

‘An earthquake?’ asked one of the king’s advisors.

‘I think not,’ the king responded. ‘They are coming.’

‘How did they defeat your guard?’

‘My adversary wields Skofnung.’

‘Surely not.’

‘It is the only explanation.’ He glanced at his wary men. ‘Let it not dampen our spirits.’

‘But, how do we defend this keep my lord?’

The king responded, ‘We will find a way. Or we will die.’

The king’s old tutor, a senile waif of gaunt appearance, called meekly from the corner. ‘Sire?’

The advisors turned and considered the decrepit man. He stood, leaning on his staff.

‘Yes, Olev?’ inquired the king.

‘Your daughter must ride to battle.’

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Silence engulfed the cavernous room. Each man stared at the ancient tutor.

A sound like thunder suddenly rumbled outside the keep. ‘They come closer,’ Olev said.

‘You dare endanger our princess?’ growled a young man who had recently joined the king’s council.

‘Do not tarry with fate, boy.’

‘Olev,’ responded the king. ‘You speak of my daughter.’

‘Yes, king, I do.’ He paused. ‘And of the legend.’

‘It is a child’s tale, Olev.’

‘Sire, the sword cannot be drawn in the presence of women.’

Fritha listened from a secret passage behind the throne. ‘I must ride for my people,’ she whispered.

Process Flow

I give to you an observation in eleventy-one words...

Her coifed faux strawberry hair bounced atop her head as she approached the ATM. She inserted a card, left it in the slot, waited. Nothing happened. She pulled it out, inserted it, left it. The machine indicated the card couldn’t be read. She tried another card. Inserted, waited… Extracted, inserted, waited... Same result. She moved to an adjacent machine, used the second card. Inserted. Waited… Extracted. Inserted. Waited... Same result again.

Her husband entered. ‘What’s the problem?’

‘It’s temperamental.’

‘Jesus Christ ,woman. We’re late.’ He stalked out.

Frustrated, she inserted the card, extracted it, then inserted it again. The machine requested her PIN.

‘Stupid machine,’ she grumbled.

‘Stupid people.’ I chuckled.