100 words for monday

After the miraculous win by the Giants, I thought that there would be no better topic for today than victory… Have a fun week. 

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10 Responses

  1. Deep into a dream-riddled night ripped the yodel of our ancient cat, Purna, signaling danger. I sniffed the air for smoke, listened hard for children, but found only his wild cat-keening from outside, below, close by. I peered out into the spring garden, and there he was: his coat patchy in the chalky moonlight, his body swelled to enormous size in the middle of a raised bed, staring at a slim, silent coyote. I yanked open the window and screamed. The coyote, robbed of victory, gave me one quick look, then trotted off beyond the moon’s reach, into the night.

  2. Is running a mile a victory? Ten miles? A marathon?
    Is beating the clock a victory? Beating the other team? Beating your old self?
    Becoming a new self?
    Making something grow?
    Answering the phone when you know you should, but don’t know what to say?
    Making someone else happy?
    Remembering to bring an ID to the airport?
    Managing to smile at the airport lady who’s wanding you because you don’t have an ID?
    Writing a beautifully-worded text message?
    Victory usually depends on the who, what, where, when, whatever.
    But taking pleasure from little things and calling them victories? Yes, always.

  3. […] Victory Published February 4, 2008 100 words , Writing Today’s 100-word topic is: Victory […]

  4. Back at school and alone in a naked dorm room. It’s been fifteen hours of flying and I am buried deep in the squishiness of my sleeping bag. I want to fall into sleep, but the cold keeps me awake…and the rushing water of my radiator…and my jetlag. I give up and unearth a book from my suitcase and read. It is dark outside and the dorm is dead. I stare at the glowpen writing on my ceiling, “All my love, melting Cow”…even at 4 am this message makes no sense.

    I have a real bed and finally, I sleep. Victory.

  5. I love the Giants. They won the superbowl – victory. They weren’t the best team, but they managed to make things go the right way in the playoffs: teams played bad, they capitalized. The formula was simple. Plaxico Burress makes a wide open catch in the end zone after a miraculous drive – including stellar catches from Steve Smith and David Tyree. I jump out of my seat, a smile placed on my face for the time being, and I laugh and look stupid in front of the sorrowful and negative Patriots fans. I continue to gloat in front of Pats lovers.

  6. It was my senior year and life was sweet. I was acing my classes, into college before Christmas, captain of my dynasty track team, loving my friends. But what I wanted – victory – lay uncertain, in the distance. After 4 years of never losing a single meet, I was not ready to be the captain that let the winning streak slip away. And I wasn’t. Victory. Repeated winter and spring – 5 years. It felt so good, complete. Now, I look back at my team, my friends, and congratulate them on their 6th consecutive win. The legacy lives on.

  7. We play back and forth, we rush. You drew the Q, ha, and there are only 4 Us all of them down. I’ll go with X for Ox and Ix, double letter score twice. And Ix is a word, the cardinal value of one more than eight and one less than ten. Backfire with defeated on triple word score, shit, and you realize ix refers to roman numerals but you accepted it, can’t undo it, negotiation and dictionary.com. And then a favorable outcome, for me. My Victory, with an asterisk.

    But of all of our games, this is only scrabble.

  8. That moment that I swiveled the wheel around that last time, pointing the tattered car back towards the long line of sweaty teenagers, victory flooded my limbs. I succeeded. The inspector would grant me my adulthood. I glanced briefly at his apathetic face, my palms tingling and twitchy, to ensure that my feelings were justified. I looked back at the envious faces of people in parked cars, impatience dripping off their tongues. A piece of hair, lodged in my left eye, finally wriggled free. The inspector wrote illegible jargon on a receipt and handed it to me: my temporary license.

  9. I get that feeling when I am running. It exists in the moments when you really don’t want to finish that last mile. You are tired and your legs are aching and you feel how easy it would be to just push that red stop button on the tredmil and give up. You are the only one watching. But if you deny your hand its desire to make the belt roll slow to stop and you let your feet keep flying forward you can feel it. It is ectasy, pure happiness; you run the last few feet. Pounding. Panting. Victory.

  10. I’ve never been a close associate of Victory. I went to a high school where we didn’t even have awards because it might show a demeaning “preference for one student over another”. Obviously, we culled our community from the Waldorf program.

    We lived in an ex-hippie colony where everyone was “talented” and “special”. To this end we were supplied with boxes of paint, dress up trunks, dance studios, and three old pianos.

    Best of all, the hallways were wide enough to nap in, the roofs flat enough to smoke on, and the teachers too blind to notice our hemp fetish.

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