In this week's "100-words-in-10-minutes" challenge, writers tackled the prompt "Next Sunday." From a pirate’s cunning deal to a poetic reflection on change and resilience, and a humorous tale of forgotten birthdays and mundane chaos, explore how each story brings its unique twist
This week, our 100-words-in-10-minutes challenge was sparked by a rather shocking comment overheard at our bimonthly meeting at Le Cocq: "I've often been told that French people stink, especially women." While we all know this isn't true, it inspired some amusing interpretations. Read more here as we turn stereotypes on their head and share our creative takes on this bold statement, all crafted in just 100 words.
6 writers converge on 1 location, each writing a 100-word story in 10 minutes. The stories reveal a wide range of perceptions of this singular place, providing a unique perspective, uncovering layers of symbolism and architectural nuance, generational dynamics, nostalgia, and introspection, painting a vivid and diverse portrait of the place.
A backstabbing gone wrong
Discover two short stories. Journey into the night, where a secret mission takes an unexpected turn under the moonlit sky, or enter the underground world of a theatre to unravel the mystery of an enigmatic figure, cloaked in red and shrouded by rumours.
She walked down the street that ran parallel to the main street, the ‘butchers’ alley’. The air was suffocating. It was a little after two o’clock. She was sweating profusely and had a haut-le-cœur. She felt suffocated and covered her mouth with her hand. The smell of blood and dead meat was overwhelming and more than she could handle. She had never liked it.
Sparrow likes hanging around handbags and shoes
waiting for the flecks of cured meats and truffle infused
breads to fall from the fingers of those above.
Sparrow was born under the restaurant eves
Sticks and stones will make my bones and words can always break you,” sang Hex as she pressed moss onto her forearm in the moonlight. But her flesh, while soft, was green. Hex added leaf after leaf. “Skin smells good,” she murmured, “but they will know.”
I can’t seem to grow more than four strawberries
At a time.
Each one takes its own size and shape:
In Urban Enigmas, Patrick ten Brink transforms the overlooked fragments of city life into poetry rich with imagery and meaning. From discarded shoes to cryptic half-apples, his chapbook reveals beauty in what is often cast aside. At the Brussels Writers Workshop, his readings sparked lively discussion and reminded us to look closer at the world around us.
The Brussels Writers' Workshop was honoured to have Mimi Kunz present her last book of poetry and illustrations, Mother Tongue. Mimi combines elegant, fluid, black sumi-e style brushstrokes with poems, Mimi reminds us of all the little fleeting eternities between a motehr and her newborn and urges us to enjoy each special moment. It is a book for all who wish to slow down and immerse themselves in someone else’s joy.
2025 promises to be year rich in self-exploration for our authors. These are the books that have caught the eye of our authors. Which of these we will have read by next year remains to be seen, but if one thing is certain, it’s that books, like the passing of time, will continue to shape our stories and inspire us both within and beyond their pages.
Arundhati Roy at BOZAR
Booker Prize–winning author Arundhati Roy presents her long-awaited memoir Mother Mary Comes to Me. Known for her fearless essays and political engagement, Roy reflects on a life of courageous dissent shaped by language, imagination, and conviction. Moderated by Catherine Vuylsteke.
Philippe Sands at BOZAR
British-French writer and international lawyer Philippe Sands presents his new book 38 Londres Street, tracing unexpected links between Pinochet and a Nazi SS officer through one London address. Known for East West Street and his work on human rights, Sands explores exile, accountability, and the legacies of authoritarian violence. Moderated by Béatrice Delvaux.
She sat there wondering what he meant.
‘It doesn’t get any better than this,’ but he wasn’t smiling.