100 word stories. Post all you like, maybe we'll dip in and use yours?
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When she was very little, Azazel's mother gave her a heart-shaped locket to wear, which she did—every day up until her mother's death. Never in her life had she ever regarded it. It was normal, part of her, like the color of her eyes. Why would you ever wonder about the color of your eyes? But when her mother died she did wonder. So for her first time she held it and looked at it—and opened it. And out of Azazel's little heart came every hurt and guilt and humiliation and torment and abuse her mother ever made her carry.
Many on the forum have asked me, so here's my answer: a spoonful of lighter fluid. And you'll need to wash it out really well when you're done.