Tag: Drabble (100 word story)

‘What if She Says Yes?’

Last Saturday, I threw down a challenge, because Jude, featured below, was one of those who suggested it: to write a story, up to 100 words long, that addressed the question posed here:

Unsurprisingly, there haven’t been many entries. But what I have read have been class acts. There’s Jude’s clever, and very different story: https://traveltalk.me.uk/2025/07/24/but-what-if-she-says-yes/

And Dawn addresses the age old problem of when, or even if to pop the question: https://lingeringvisions.wordpress.com/2025/07/23/what-if-she-says-yes/.

Here’s mine: But hang on. Before you read Jude’s, or Dawn’s, or mine, make yourself comfortable on this bench. It is after all Sunday, and the day for Jude’s Bench Challenge.

What if she said ‘yes’?

Nell sat slumped against the stairs, leaning into the comfort of her neighbour.  ‘He always drank too much, your dad.’ Her father lay twisted at the bottom—eyes open, unmoving.  The investigators stepped gently round the body and its ooze of blood.  ‘He fell’, Nell said. Only she knew about the bruises beneath her sweater, her sore and aching thighs.  Only she knew whether what had happened just an hour ago was an accident or an escape.  Only she knew what she’d say when at last they ask her: ‘Or …did you push him?’ What if she says ‘yes’?

I wrote two others too, but the judge and jury (‘im indoors and me) chose this one. You can judge the other two if you want to: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1PS8t-YsNfiLTwE27WqY9UxVotxIbO1LO6CtHf3OaU40/edit?usp=sharing

PS. A late, great addition to the clutch of flash fiction, from Rebecca of Fake Flamenco:

What if She Says Yes?

When the wallpaper in the downstairs hall began to peel in the heat, I didn’t think it odd. Our house needs repair often after a century of Tiverstons. I bought a bottle of papering adhesive. As I sanded the wall before re-glueing, newsprint appeared in the lower corner. Using an exacto knife, I liberated the sheet. The headline about an Edna Swargle chilled my blood and I stopped breathing a moment. The woman in the photo looked just like mom as a teenager, but her name is Nancy. I walked upstairs where she was reading. “Mom, were you ever, Edna?”

The featured photo is not my own, but squared from an unattributed image found in Pexels, a great source of Royalty free images.

For Becky’s #SimplyRed.