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However, I had to abandon the user voting system as the cost of installing it onto my site wasn't practical. You can read and submit stories further down the page. Covered by umbrella and double bagged in cagoules we stand. The submission criteria are nice and simple: more to publish the anthology. The 81 word stories received to date are published below in the order they were received. The first story, by me, appeared on the 81word website in January 2015 and is featured in the screenshot further up the page. Story 005 by Sivan Pillai "He is a notorious housebreaker and we were in search of him," the policeman said. To escape the city is such a pity, hopefully somewhere new is not as gritty. He took me on the back of his motorbike to seedy bars in the heart of Cotonou where I felt perfectly safe in the company of this short, round faced African who looked like a younger Louis Armstrong. Story 010 by Gemma Bridges I have a secret that I hide everyday. His crumpled body, sprawled on the rear seats, hanging in there. She turned and disappeared, screaming into the wilderness at the back of the forecourt, the bottom of her skirt well alight. Story 019 by A Williamson It was snowing on Christmas eve. If I wait like a still shop dummy, I'm sure I'll be found soon. "Here." As I entered with Louise and passed by him, we could hear him mumble, "The world is doomed. " Story 072 by Patrick Antonio Coach Joe's 2029 high school wrestling ceremony is tonight. But then there are the monsters, the stuff of your nightmares – tentacled, slimy sea-serpents, giant, curiously deformed, eerily human-like figures, the hulking mass that somehow terrifies you more than anything else. Story 080 by James Hornby The Father of Thousands has reduced my world to rubble. It was the fingernails you remembered, the claw marks. Story 008 by David Turton Annie gazed at the dark sky and squeezed Penny's hand. " Penny looked up, identifying a blue-ish speck in the blackness. A deep melancholy that only hits me in the dead of the night, or with a surge of endorphins from those beautiful songs of the past, and only ever when I let my mind truly wander. Running helplessly on her very last legs, eyes closed tight. Her green hands led me to a central clearing dominated by a giant oak tree. Old Mrs Stuart was decorating the last of the buns. "Hark the herald angels sing..." Mrs Stuart ran to get some buns for the small group, but on running back, they were gone. Story 032 by Tracey Maitland I hate you and love you simultaneously. It's supposed to be romantic." We sat and asked for the menu. With 12 trophies to go, his 3D printer runs out of plastic. I’m not talking the house where I grew up here, I’m talking the whole planet. Before today, I never had a problem with an entity from the previous universe wanting to destroy all life. In this plasterboard age, still they'd joke about finding someone's wife. Sid squinted at the mildewed tool belt, met the mildewed gawp. He sent me a link to this newspaper story regarding the world record for the 'most authors contributing to an anthology of short stories'. Guinness has a 12 week turnaround time, so I should know if my application is successful by the end of February 2018. If the application is successful, I hope that having 1,000 contributing authors in the 81 word anthology will make the sales target doable. Big thanks to Allen for putting the idea in my head.

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Pluto, no longer the ninth planet, wept uncontrollably, knowing what this meant. Then, in one swift movement, she uses it to slice off his little toe. You drag me down, make me ill, breathless and lethargic. I can't remember when last I saw her, but the years have wrought little change. I hid there." As she pointed, a young man emerged from the park entrance. Time to take you back to the home." Story 060 by Jemma O'Donovan Matt had taken Rachel bowling when they were nineteen, and Matt was up first. The polished, green ball skidded down the alley – all ten pins exploded at the receiving end, and Matt spun around, triumphant. Story 070 by Rui Soares "No mobile phone here please," said the man.

All day long, he sighed, "Oh, how I wish I were a mirror. " "Because you always forget about peeling." "Don't be ridiculous." "I shouldn't believe you, that's for sure." "Be quiet, you fool. Story 074 by Henry Dillinger Harold was not your ordinary magician. Instead of a rabbit coming out of the top-hat, it was a lobster, alive and snapping. " "Mum, Grandma said there are just two colours." "And? I finally reached him, on his balcony, all according to routine.



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