Publisher: 100 Word Stories
Weekly Challenge: 1037
Topic: Dear Everyone
Submitted: February 27, 2026
Published: March 8, 2026
Participants: 8 total
Recommended Topic: Unexpected Recovery
Dear Everyone,
Except for the guy in the back, in the yellow shirt.
Being of sound body and mind, I hereby declare that you are all immorally dressed. Nobody will receive anything of mine. Except maybe Francis. I haven’t decided yet. I leave it up to the guy in the yellow shirt.
Everyone looked. Nobody was present.
“Wasn’t Uncle Joe colorblind?” Francis asked.
“No.”
“Nancy has a yellow coat!”
“It specifically said, ‘Shirt… and guy.`”
“What’s that even mean?”
A courier stepped in with a package.
He wore an almost yellow shirt.
It was probably the lighting.
“Is Francis here?”
About the 100 Word Stories Weekly Challenge
About the 100 Word Stories Weekly Challenge
100 Word Stories
…And, as always, keep it brief!
The 100 Word Stories Weekly Challenge was (and still is) hosted by Laurence Simon—better known in Second Life as Crap Mariner—who built a wonderfully strange, tight-knit community around storytelling discipline.
Originally, he started a daily random theme on ScriberOptics via 100words on May 13, 2005, based on a photo, using a combination of everyone’s submitted words rather than posting a single topic. He would write short 100-word stories featuring recurring characters, such as Abraham Lincoln and the Mustard Man.
In June 2005, he then spun the stories into their own subdomain from his personal blog at podcasting.isfullofcrap.com, featuring multiple authors and guest entries. Rather than daily challenges, he settled for weekly challenges, which were due on April 21, 2006, for the topic “Bunnies!” It was published on April 22, 2006. He continued each week posting a topic and invited people to write a story of 100 or [sic]Less Nessman 2.0 words long. Most participants went for exactly 100. It was a form of microfiction—a subset of flash fiction—where the limitation wasn’t restrictive but creatively freeing. Within those 100 words, stories could be funny, heartfelt, surreal, absurd, reflective, or unexpectedly powerful.
Laurence encouraged contributors not just to write but to perform. He always invited people to record themselves reading their stories and send in the audio so their voices could be part of the experience. If someone didn’t—or couldn’t—he gladly read their story for them. Sometimes he even used software to alter his voice, adding character variety, humor, or dramatic flair, so every episode felt like a small production rather than just a reading.
The project chose to respond to the creative emptiness of podcasts at the time not with cynicism, but with creativity. Laurence filled the internet with humor, storytelling, discipline, and imagination. Eventually, the project continued under his broader creative umbrella, “One A Day Until I Die,” where he continues to celebrate the joy of storytelling in all its weird and wonderful forms.
Episodes usually feature everyone’s submissions together in one podcast, and listeners vote on their favorites. The weekly winner not only gets bragging rights but also the honor of choosing the next topic—meaning the community itself shaped what came next. Many participants came from overlapping creative spaces: writers, musicians, podcasters, and especially people in Second Life, where the challenge became something of a shared cultural experience. It wasn’t just a writing exercise; it was friendship, collaboration, creative play, and a small but meaningful part of internet history.
I even had the chance to meet Laurence once at the Second Life Community Convention, where he was handing out refrigerator magnets promoting the podcast — including one I still have today on my fridge. It’s a little artifact from a wonderfully weird, wonderfully human creative era.
This project mattered. It still does.
Paper/Wood Floor Theme from an old version of 100 Word Stories Circa 2009
Behind the Story
This story was written for the “Dear Everyone” weekly challenge. I struggled with this one at first. The phrase feels like an introduction — a letter opener — and I needed something that moved beyond that.
I decided to stage it as a reading of a will. After sitting in on the reading of my mother’s will — and hearing the insults she directed at my sister even after her passing — I opened mine with an insult of my own.
The first insult that came to mind made me pause. I’ve heard plenty of words over the years without always knowing their precise meanings. Rather than risk misusing something vulgar, I looked it up. That alone convinced me to pivot.
I tried “greedy,” but it felt predictable. Cliché. Too easy.
So I shifted the absurdity sideways.
What if the deceased didn’t attack character — but clothing?
“Improperly dressed” felt tame. So I pushed it further: immorally dressed. That sounded like someone with very strong opinions and no obligation to clarify them.
Then came the yellow shirt.
I wanted a technicality. Something precise enough to matter and vague enough to unravel. “The guy in the back, in the yellow shirt.” But what if no one fits that description? What happens when a will depends on a person who may not exist?
That’s when the room turns into a logic puzzle.
The characters argue over coats versus shirts. Over wording. Over intent. In my head, when someone asks, “What’s that even mean?” they aren’t just questioning the clause — they’re questioning “immorally dressed.”
To raise the tension, I made the courier’s shirt almost yellow. Now the room must decide: lighting, interpretation?
And then he asks for Francis.
Originally, he had a package with yellow dye, but then I decided to leave the mechanics unresolved. Does the courier decide inheritance? Is he the unnamed arbiter? Or is the yellow shirt simply a coincidence? Is there actually anything of value to inherit?
Some stories close the door.
This one leaves it slightly ajar.
Made With
