"What goes up, must come down" or "14 weeks out of 52"
Micro fiction entry for D.K.Shepard's "Keep It 100 Challenge"
-a microfiction
Boom boom bang. Slide to the floor. Pop pop pop. Play "Fireworks? Backfire? Gunshots?" Pap-pa-p-ap-pap-pap. How long do we wait to go back to sleep?
Head angle: head up, head down, head too close to the wall, head close enough to the floor; head, head, head, protect the head. "Are we there yet?" refrains, but for whether we can crawl back into our beds.
Quiet for a week. Where did all the gunfire go? Whose soul was soothed tonight? Whose trauma took a nap? Not mine, sir.
Bam-bam/bam-bam/bam-bam. Triangulate. Too close? Too far? Hear any shouts? The neighbor's kids pick up brass shells in the sunshine less than 50 feet from where we dream.
Three years. Only a hundred nights with silence, each.
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125 words by Vocal's counter
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About the piece
This piece was written for D.K. Shepard's "Keep It 100" challenge which is an "Unofficial Poetry and Microfiction Challenge". Basically this means the regular every-day-joe vocal contributor (not vocal staff) D.K. Shepard gives a prompt from their own brain to challenge other writers to answer, and then we do, if we want. This challenge celebrates the challenge author writing their 100th piece on vocal and requires participates to write a poem or microfiction that includes the phrase "one hundred", "a hundred" or "100" in the body of a poem or microfiction. You can enter one microfiction piece (this is my microfiction entry) or one poetry piece.
I wanted to try this challenge but had no idea what to do with it (hence entering last minute) but finally sat down to write and was honestly a little surprised when this came out of my fingertips. I know where it came from, but not sure why it came. I could palimpsest the heck out of it and try again, but there isn't really time for me to digitally crumple it up in a ball, toss it across the room and try again. Its authentic so, into the lottery pot it goes, and I hope its appropriately kept at a PG rating.
I'm going to try to keep my poetry entry off this topic as this is oddly the second piece I've written regarding guns since I started writing on here again. Clearly I have some stuff to work out, whether its nostalgia or...whatever this is. Not to be dismissive to myself at all, its just not what I expected my brain would want to explore.
About me
I'm a long time lurker, recently popped up to do a little creative writing after having only two pieces up for a ridiculously long time.
They are my favorite pieces and you can find them here and here if you'd like to take a gander:
Butter Cream: https://shopping-feedback.today/poets/butter-cream%3C/a%3E
When we were young: https://shopping-feedback.today/poets/when-we-were-young-m7bv010dxa%3C/a%3E%3C/p%3E%3C/blockquote%3E%3Cstyle data-emotion-css="14azzlx-P">.css-14azzlx-P{font-family:Droid Serif,Georgia,Times New Roman,Times,serif;font-size:1.1875rem;-webkit-letter-spacing:0.01em;-moz-letter-spacing:0.01em;-ms-letter-spacing:0.01em;letter-spacing:0.01em;line-height:1.6;color:#1A1A1A;margin-top:32px;}
A completely unrelated (but mildly semi-related) experiment
Its supposed to be the link to the "Keep It 100" challenge inside of a handy clickable card embed. Lets see if it works. If it works, great! If it doesn't I will probably try to edit this section to try to see if I can figure out how to replicate the linking that others are successfully doing.
About the Creator
WOA
Just trying it out to see what its like.
What Nobody Warns You About Growing Up
Nobody warns you that growing up doesn’t happen all at once. There’s no clear moment when childhood ends and adulthood begins. It sneaks up on you quietly, disguised as routine, responsibility, and small decisions that suddenly feel heavy. When we’re young, we imagine growing up as freedom. We think it means staying up late, earning money, making our own choices, and living life on our terms. Adults look powerful from the outside—confident, certain, and in control. What nobody tells you is that most adults are still figuring things out, just like you were, only with higher stakes. One of the first shocks of growing up is realizing that no one is coming to save you. As a child, there is always someone to fix things—parents, teachers, elders. A bad grade can be explained. A mistake can be forgiven easily. But as you grow older, the safety net thins. Mistakes start costing time, money, relationships, and sometimes self-respect. You learn that accountability isn’t just a word; it’s a weight you carry every day. Nobody warns you about how lonely growing up can feel. Even when surrounded by people, there’s a quiet distance that forms. Friends you once spoke to every day slowly drift away. Not because of anger or betrayal, but because life pulls everyone in different directions. Jobs, families, priorities—all rearrange your circle without asking for permission. You stop expecting people to stay forever and start appreciating those who do. Another thing no one talks about is how often you’ll doubt yourself. As a child, you dream without limits. You want to be everything at once—successful, admired, fearless. Growing up introduces comparison. You see others moving faster, earning more, achieving milestones you haven’t reached yet. Social media makes it worse, turning life into a scoreboard you never agreed to play on. You learn that confidence isn’t permanent; it’s something you rebuild again and again. Growing up also teaches you that hard work doesn’t always pay off immediately. You can do everything right and still feel stuck. Effort doesn’t guarantee results, and patience becomes one of the hardest lessons. Nobody warns you how exhausting it is to keep going when motivation fades and only discipline remains. Yet this is where growth actually happens—in the moments when quitting feels easier than continuing. Then there’s the emotional part no one prepares you for. You start seeing your parents as human beings, not just authority figures. You notice their fears, regrets, and limitations. Sometimes you understand them more; sometimes it hurts to realize they didn’t have all the answers either. Growing up often means forgiving people—not because they apologized, but because holding on to resentment is too heavy. You’re also not warned about how your definition of success changes. It stops being about applause and starts becoming about peace. A quiet mind. A stable income. A few people who genuinely care about you. You learn that happiness isn’t loud or dramatic; it’s often found in ordinary moments—coming home tired but safe, laughing at something small, sleeping without anxiety. One of the hardest truths of growing up is learning to let go. Let go of versions of yourself that no longer fit. Let go of people who can’t grow with you. Let go of timelines you once believed were fixed. This letting go feels like loss, even when it’s necessary. Nobody warns you that growth and grief often walk together. Yet, despite all this, growing up gives you something valuable—clarity. You begin to understand your boundaries. You learn when to say no without explaining yourself. You start choosing what matters instead of chasing everything. Strength stops looking like loud confidence and starts looking like quiet resilience. What nobody warns you about growing up is that it will break you in small ways—and rebuild you stronger in others. You’ll lose some innocence but gain wisdom. You’ll trade certainty for understanding. And even on days when you miss the simplicity of who you once were, you’ll realize you’re proud of who you’re becoming. Growing up isn’t about having everything figured out. It’s about learning how to keep going, even when you don’t. And maybe that’s the lesson no one warns you about—adulthood isn’t a destination. It’s a continuous act of becoming.
By Hanif Ullah 3 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Wow! This is a really powerful micro, WOA. The part about the head positioning and protecting oneself really struck me. Thank you so much for entering it in the challenge!