They’re sitting atop a shattered pile of words, so high that he can see them only dimly and can’t make out their numbers. One sprouts a bushel of curly hair, another a tremendous beard. There are more.

“I just finished a hundred stories,” says Greg. He hopes he’s loud enough.

“A hundred!” There’s a dry chuckle. “Ooo, big man. What’s that, ten thousand words?”

“Be nice,” says another.

Greg slumps. “Can I come up there yet?”

More laughter, and the second voice: “You’ve a long way to go, son.”

“Well, what next?”

“Keep going,” they say. “Finish what you start.”


2 Responses to “Hundred”

  1. Thankfully, the Songwriting Gods are more lenient.

    Congrats on 10100 words.

  2. congrats

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