Gathering her skirts, Diana rushed through the front door of the Manor towards the stables. Leaning against the stable wall, a rusted contraption resembling a wagon marred the otherwise perfectly manicured countryside.

“There she is!”

Diana’s pursuers were gaining quickly, but she ran faster, not daring to look back.

She hoped the capsule clutched in her hand would work. “Portable Steam” father had called it. Wrenching open the boiler at the base of the wagon, she threw it in, then pressed the buttons and pulled levers as she had been taught.

The wagon spread its wings and she was off.

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I frequently have an image in my head and I’ve found that limiting myself to 100 words is a good way to get that image onto paper (especially since I don’t draw well). It’s also a way of disciplining myself to stick to the image – the description, the senses, and the point of the interaction itself – without going off on a tangent. By sticking to 100 words (no more and no less) I’m forced to edit out unnecessary words or add more descriptors, and I find this makes my writing much more crisp and precise than other forms of writing. It also means that I’m focusing on the writing itself, rather than worrying about how its going to come out.

A variation of this is completed stories using the 140 character limit on twitter. There are several twitter-based e-zines such as “Thaumatrope” (scifi/fantasy/horror) and “Tweet the Meat” (horror). I haven’t tried this out yet myself, but I’m planning on trying it out some time this month.

Do you write drabbles? Do you write tweet-fic? Do you follow a blog or website that posts well written short fiction? Leave a link!

EDIT: I was pretty pleased with myself for making the post exactly 200 words, but then I found a great blog that uses a similar concept. “Six Sentences” publishes short stories composed of, you guessed it, six sentences. Looks like all genres are welcome.

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Title: Lowri’s Betrayal
Author: Miriam Bosiljevac
Wordcount: 100
Summary: Aeddan had loved Lowri.

The words stung. He was expecting them, had heard the practiced logic from her before, but the venom in Lowri’s voice tore right through him. She had been his hope, his life, and Aeddan didn’t want to believe any of this was actually happening.

Her fiery hair seemed to burn in the sunlight as she raised the broadsword above her head. Lowri wore the colours of her father on the battlefield, signifying her choice over her lover and supposed shelter.

Aeddan stood still as the blade swung towards him, her betrayal destroying his soul faster than any weapon ever could.

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