A thin pad provided insulation from the ground, and Sheila was snug in her sleeping bag. The stars above her were impossibly bright, a million nightlights to watch over her. After such a long day, her arms and legs were almost numb: she didn’t notice the feeling of insects as they crawled along their way. She only heard the ever-present crickets.
And the explosions. The mining operation two miles away required copious amounts of dynamite. Every blast erupted in her ears and sent the campsite rumbling, jolting her awake in the fear that the ground was falling away under her.
And, miraculously, I'm done. That one is a little too punch-line-y for my tastes. I'm noticing again what I noticed the last time I wrote these: that the easiest way to tell a story in 100 words is to use the form of a joke: a long build-up and then a quick reversal. Or set-up and punch-line. I'd like to try to get away from that, but I'm not entirely sure how in this format. There's just so little space, I feel like you can either have a description (no change) or a joke (change).
I'll probably continue. I'm also thinking of changing, or loosening, the format: adding slightly longer stuff, and maybe some poetry (although poetry is not my comfort zone, so maybe not). But I'll be here tomorrow, so check back!