The Indestructible Presence

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

I am no stranger. I have existed as long as humans have been on this earth, perhaps even longer. I have had many names through the ages. It doesn’t matter what I have been called, the outcome is usually the same. Whether you are human or animal, I will make you sick. You may not die but you will suffer.

Margaret learned that I am real, even though I cannot be seen with the human eye. My brother, Ebola, made her ill in Nigeria. My sister, Hanta, did the same to a handyman in Colorado. I am the ubiquitous virus.

From Guest Contributor Janice Siderius


That Night And What Came After

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

I reached up to cover my eyes and when I lowered my hands again, she was gone. No not gone, not completely. I could still glimpse her through the clouds.

I was aware that others had entered the room, and now I watched as a winged angel sailed out into the moonlit sky. I stood there speechless and motionless, one hand still strapped to the bed. I do not know who brought a coverlet and draped it around my nakedness. No one spoke for a very long time.

I remember little else. A sedative was administered and finally, I slept.

David Rae is an author of award winning flash fiction, short stories and two dark fantasy novels. His latest CROWTOWER is available here and more of his work can be read for free on his website David Rae Stories.


A Good Day

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

My day wasn’t a wasted one after all, he said to the man in the mirror while washing the blood from his hands. He lifted his shirt and uncovered a nasty wound on his abdomen. His clothes were ruined, those stains would never wash out.

The radio was on and reported on events earlier that day:
“…concerning the mystery man who saved two children from a burning building. The man jumped through a window on the second floor carrying the infants. He might be in need of some medical attention…”

Not a bad day at all, said the Superhero.

From Guest Contributor Hervé Suys

Hervé Suys (°1968 – Ronse, Belgium) started writing whilst recovering from a sports injury. He writes his disturbing fiction generally barefooted and hatless.



by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

An unpleasant task of my youth was picking raspberries in our backyard. Raspberries are the least tasty of Oregon’s big three, the others being blackberries and strawberries. Raspberries are also soft, easily squashed and have unpleasant texture. At times I imagined cutting the roots as a way to avoid picking them. Blackberries and marionberries (a kind of blackberry) are pleasures that can be picked while standing up and grow wild, so one need not grow them yourself or pay for u-pick. Oregon strawberries are the best tasting strawberries, but they must be bought or paid for by back breaking u-pick.

From Guest Contributor Doug Hawley


Cursed Sword

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Dark ripples spread across the surface as I wade into the water. I hold my breath and dive. To my surprise, the sword lies among the weeds, quite within reach. It’s mine. I chuckle with joy. I kick my legs harder, needing to go only a few inches deeper, but I can’t reach it. No matter how long I swim, I can’t grab the sword. I can’t hold my breath anymore. I struggle to the surface, but I’m yanked down. I tear at the weeds tangling my feet, but, as I sink, all I see is the sword’s gleaming wink.

From Guest Contributor Yukari Kousaka

Translated by Toshiya Kamei

Born in Osaka in 2001, Yukari Kousaka is a Japanese poet, fiction writer, and essayist. Translated by Toshiya Kamei, Yukari’s writings have appeared in The Crypt, New World Writing, and The Wondrous Real Magazine, among others.


Art History

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

A stranger walked up to me on the street and said with a quaver, “I am completely overwhelmed.” He was wearing a black raincoat that reached down below his knees. Wait, I thought, it’s not raining. When we’re dead, it’ll be a whole different story. Cosimo de Medici once complained to Michelangelo, “That sculpture doesn’t look like me.” “Listen,” Michelangelo told him, “you’ll be dead in 20 years, this will be around for 2,000 years. So that’s what you look like!” And now, even though it’s nighttime all over the world, there are pictures on fridges and music in elevators.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie is the author of more than a dozen poetry collections, including most recently Gunmetal Sky (Thirty West Publishing) and The Bad News First (Kung Fu Treachery Press).


The Price Of Love

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The ozone scent of the ocean reminds me how much I have sacrificed to be here: friends, family, home, heritage.

Was it worth it? Most days, yes, but on black days – every step painful – I find myself back before the water.

Mother warned me. But I knew better. “You don’t choose who you fall for.”

“Mark my words, no good came of such a union.”

I brushed it aside – another of her fables.

He is a devoted husband, but he cannot bridge the loneliness.

I lose myself in the roaring of the waves: a world I can no longer enter.

From Guest Contributor Iqbal Hussain



by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Sydney prides herself on her cleverness. Her teachers and prospective lovers (usually different) always commented it was her most identifiable trait.

So it’s frustrating when this critical character component fails to impress. Like when she explains to the traffic cop that coming to a complete stop was both unnecessary and a waste of fuel, and she’s doing everyone a service.

Or when she told Ian that kissing her boss simply made her appreciate Ian more as a boyfriend.

Neither did he laugh at her joke about the dog dropping his bouquet of white flowers to bark at its own reflection.


The Seventh Floor

by thegooddoctor in Uncategorized

The squad car with blue lights flashing lit up the night and announced a police presence before he entered the building.

The receptionist looked up at the cop coming through the door and smiled.

“Good evening officer. This is becoming a regular occurrence.”

“Yes, Ma’am, second Friday night this month,” said the cop.

“Let me guess, seventh floor? Mrs. Smith called about Frannie’s drinking party again?”


“We’ll try to settle Mrs. Smith down first, then talk with Frannie.”


The cop shook his head and asked, “How loud can they be? This is a retirement village for God’s sake.”

From Guest Contributor N.T. Franklin

NT Franklin has been published in Page and Spine, Fiction on the Web, 101 Words, Friday Flash Fiction, CafeLit, Madswirl, Postcard Shorts, 404 Words, Scarlet Leaf Review, Freedom Fiction, Burrst, Entropy, Alsina Publishing, Fifty-word stories, Dime Show Review, among others.


Making Textiles

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Kneeling on the hard ground making textiles is an arduous task when the sun is beaming, but the heat is worse indoors. The brick wall of my home blocks the air flow and sweat trickles down my forehead.

My husband Mario is walking up the path after a long day of working in the fields.

“Maria, please come inside now. It is time to cook dinner.”

“I’ll be just a minute.”

I pack my belongings and go home.

Mario and our boy are laughing and singing a mellifluous tune while setting the dinner table.

My heart is full of love.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher