100 in 100!

[kaige68.livejournal.com]

Your challenge (should you choose to accept it) is to crank out 100 words or 1 graphic inspired by the word:
Discover

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[agdhani.livejournal.com]

The first location behind the wooden door they were forced to break through had once been a gas station convenience store, filled with empty product shelves that had been shoved against the glass plate windows that formed the three front walls. Some of the glass was broken inward, scattered amongst the mud and dust on the floor, refracting the light of the lanterns and torches the officers carried, allowing for rust to form along the tops and backs of the shelves from the rain and snow that had blown inside. The sales counter, however, was clean, with razor thin lines scored into a reasonably fresh coat of paint. As Ernest made a circle of the room, studying the footprints on the floor, the three Protectors with them passed through three of the four doors into the back half of the building. Two had been restrooms, but from the state of the plumbing they no longer had access to running water. The third door opened into an expansive storage room and the familiar stench of rotting flesh, empty except for the pair of grubbers on either side of the back double doors, held in place by pieces of rebar someone had been able to drive through their torsos at the base of their breastbones. Their flesh had recently begun to sag, proof that their deaths had been recent, within the last six months, and the stains on the walls behind them and the floor below them suggested that others had been suspended on those stakes before.
When he determined he would glean no details from the prints on the floor, Ernest pushed open the fourth door to discover an empty desk, empty shelves, and an array of shovels, picks, axes and other long-handled tools propped in the corner. This room, too, like the front sales counter, had been cleaned and given a fresh coat of paint.
Vance, with dark circles beneath his eyes and sleep-sunken features, said, “No one’s been here in weeks…except for maintenance. It’s been used for transactions, buying and trading…storage…it’s seen a lot of traffic…”

[simplyn2deep.livejournal.com]

Stiles didn’t mean to discover the hidden room in Derek’s loft.

He’d been looking for his phone, which had mysteriously vanished after a pack meeting. One wrong step on the creaky floorboards, and a trapdoor revealed itself.

Curiosity burned hotter than self-preservation.

The room was small, lined with old books, faded photos, and a battered leather journal. He picked it up, fingers tracing Derek’s name etched on the cover.

“What are you doing?”

Stiles jumped, nearly dropping the journal as Derek loomed in the doorway.

“I, uh... found this by accident?”

Derek sighed. “You always do.”