Welcome to Centenary
100-word short stories from Living Well Towers
Welcome to Centenary, a new work of 100-word short stories.
What is this?
A serial of 100-word short stories from the (barely) fictional world of Living Well Towers, where seniors are mixing it up like randy teens off to sleep-away camp for the first time.
Is it free?
Every day, all of the 100-word stories, community forums, and emails are always free. Be sure to sign up for a free membership to get access.
What are the paid levels, and what do I get?
☕️ To keep the daily stories free: Click here to leave me a one-time tip of $5 or more.
Or get a paid membership for $5 a month, or $50 for an annual subscription. This gets you access to the Full Story So Far, as well as the ability to leave comments on stories.
What does my tips and paid membership support?
Your one-time tips and/or your membership makes you a patron supporting my work on these stories and future creative fiction and non-fiction works.
Who's writing these stories?
Hi, I'm Andrew Horan. For more than 40 years, I've been a published storyteller in books, magazines, and newspapers. My first published work was a rumination on "Fool's Spring" for the Chicago Reader in 1985; my most recent is "Dig, Deeper," an essay on fatherhood in the now-defunct Coast Magazine in February 2020. Along the way, I've published essays and stories in magazines; I've been a newspaper reporter in three states; a newspaper editor in two states; a bartender in four cities; and a chauffeur, entrepreneur, and wine connoisseur.
What's the backstory?
I watched and listened as my now-deceased mother moved into a series of senior care centers. These stories are loosely based on the people I've met there, my imagination about what went on when I wasn't there, and on my many stops in life.
That's nice, but what's the backstory to Centenary?
Behind the guarded gates of Living Well Village sprawls a town of mansions and condos -- and The Towers, twin 20-story apartment blocks loaded with folks who can't or won't cook and clean anymore, giving them plenty of free time for mischief, mayhem, and more.
The downstairs lobby has given up on past aspirations of being grand. The decorators must have been thinking lodge or resort, but their ideas were not well interpreted by the facilities guys, who have it in a state that you might call granny-hodge-podge.
The floors are a wild mix of garish Casino carpeting and anonymous nursing-home linoleum. The walls are rough cinder block edifices rising to the atrium ceiling, the only finishing touch the high-gloss beige paint that despite all the other trappings tells you that the Towers are, in the end, an institution.
It's a sensual assault, a dissonance of too bright and too beige, of forced cheer and unabashed, carefree action.
Come on in, and follow along with:
Anne, who just moved in and has an 11th floor apartment overlooking wildflower strewn rolling green hills and two rooms stuffed with boxes - and secrets
Ruth, a restless wanderer and collector who lets herself into everyone's lives and takes what she wants
Eli, Anne's new neighbor across the hall, who isn't long for the Towers
Jimmy Dunne, a man's man, he says
Sturdivant, called to action to solve a mystery involving Eli, Anne, and who knows who else?
Rebecca, Bailey, and [ ], adult children who come to visit