100-Wird Fiction: ‘No Mountain High’

That a life builds, grows
Is what she had heard.
But it sometimes felt
The opposite.
It was as if a life
Started with a mountain
A mass of granite
Immovable, vast
And then things happened:
Events, thoughts. The mountain
Was chipped away at
Incrementally.
Tiny etchings, furrows –
Surfaces scuffed, worn –
From the corrasions
Of many histories.

All that stuff that happens –
Happens to – as if
A man had no part
In events, that they
Were inflicted –
That he was a victim
When no, no.

That man is no mountain.
He built his own downfall.
He deserves what he gets.

100-Word Fiction: ‘Pretty’

If she was not amazingly pretty, but pretty, still, and if people always said it. As a kid maybe not, but later, and then oh when people said it lots. But it is what people thought and there she stood and just did not know what to do when people said it. It was not like rebellion, or maybe, but there were other things and bigger challenges. She did not even want to think of her looks. Her looks, it is what they said. And now, locked in prison, her face in newspapers, the pretty one, they said it too.