26
Nov

Corn Cobs

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Johnny sure liked the sound corn cobs made as they brushed against his shoulders. It reminded him of a simpler time, a better time. That was when he enjoyed ice cream – now he was lactose intolerant.

He took a deep breath and loosened his tie, glancing idly at his soiled boat shoes. These were the ones Kara helped him pick out when the shop had a going-out-of-business sale. Kara was no longer around, and replacing her would be difficult.

Wiping the sweat off his brow, he couldn’t even remember why he was in the corn field in the first place.

From Guest Contributor Schmehl

25
Nov

Seminal Rock

by thegooddoctor in Uncategorized

“What’s this old vinyl record,” I call to Dad.

We are in the middle of downsizing him for his final move to a retirement facility. This is a painful exercise on many levels.

“Which one?” he replies.

“There’s only one…by Iron Butterfly. How do you pronounce the title?”

“In-a-ga-da-da-vida.”

“Is it English?”

“It’s a piece of seminal rock and roll.”

“Yeh? What does seminal mean?”

“You were conceived to it.”

“No.”

“Yes. After dinner with a bottle of good red wine, that was the record your Mother played…well, you know how these things end. You were conceived…seminal.”

From Guest Contributor Barry O’Farrell

Barry is an actor living in Brisbane, Australia. The acting experience has inspired a latent desire to write. Barry is enjoying the challenge of writing in 100 words.

24
Nov

Houghton

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The dark forest overlooking Houghton was well known to be the home of sprites. Thomas Buchanan, of Oxford, had made the journey to confirm the rumors of their presence were true. He came with all the normal accoutrement, including a traveling dresser, a coterie of servants, and a pack of beagles.

The sprites are nearly impossible to find when they want to stay hidden but Buchanan was prepared. Through a mixture of alchemy and freshly-baked pudding, he attracted a number of the young fairies. The hunt had begun.

No one ever heard from Buchanan, or the villagers of Houghton, again.

21
Nov

No Such Thing As Coincidence

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Johnson arrived home to find a Buick-sized hole that ran from the roof of his bedroom all the way through the basement.

On the other side of the world, Chen discovered her experimental rocket was missing.

These two events were not coincidental.

Mr. Johnson’s house had been hit by a meteor. Mr. Chen’s rocket had been seized by government authorities. In fact, in addition to the distance, the two events took place several months apart.

Yet as we all know, thanks to Reverend Bledsoe’s theological sermon this past Sunday, nothing happens by chance, but rather everything is by God’s design.

20
Nov

Good Bye World

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The blood of the homeless worked nicely. I was able to refine the unimaginably gruesome ritual and it worked, I stopped aging! I am writing this to repent for my sins and to warn others. Now the only life I will take is my own, to ensure that the minute details of the sickening ceremony die with me. Always remember that one virtuous short life is worth more than a hundred long lives of evil like the one I have lived. I now say goodbye to the world I have known longer than anyone else in the history of man.

From Guest Contributor Kevin Pentalow

19
Nov

On A Rainy Day

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Twenty years of door keeping had taught me not to be late to work. I started early on a rainy day. Just round the corner, I saw this puppy wet to the bone. I took him home, dried, fed, cuddled and put him in cozy box. I rushed to my work a good thirty minutes late. The big man called me in, fired me from service. I went back home.

Honest loving pair of eyes greeted me with joy. Twenty minutes care had raked such love in him, I felt, my twenty years of service just went down the drain.

From Guest Contributor Thriveni C. Mysore

18
Nov

Grief

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Arriving home, Sally is greeted by police at the main door.

“Thieves have systematically worked over every condo in this block. Apartments have been robbed, trashed or vandalized, your apartment badly. We have a grief counselor on hand for you.”

The police accompanying Sally to inspect the crime scene hold open the door for her revealing a distressing sight of man-made mayhem.

“I’m sorry you have to see this. Has anything immediately obvious been stolen?”

Sally slowly takes in the shocking scene of devastation before saying, “No. This is how I left it this morning. I was in a rush.”

From Guest Contributor Barry O’Farrell

Barry is an actor living in Brisbane, Australia. The acting experience has inspired a latent desire to write. Barry is enjoying the challenge of writing in 100 words.

17
Nov

The Mirror Code

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The Resistance, with patience and guile, communicated only through a secret symbolic code, made unbreakable because of the need to use a mirror to make sense of it. After several decades of quietly accepting the tyrannical rule of the state, this evening would mark the beginning of the revolution.

Their simulators had predicted a zero percent chance of failure. Unfortunately, the Authority were waiting for them. It didn’t make sense. The plan had been broken down into small pieces and nobody knew enough to betray them.

It was only later that they learned about the hidden cameras inside the mirrors.

14
Nov

Holes

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Geoffrey spent almost every waking moment in the backyard measuring holes. He’d dig the holes first, usually with a spoon, which took a great deal of time of course. Then he measured them. He calculated their volume, after taking down their circumference and depth. He analyzed each one carefully for soil erosion and texture. He compared one hole to the next, intent on finding even the most minute differences.

This behavior of Geoffrey’s worried his parents. Maybe the boy was autistic. Maybe he was preparing for an alien invasion. Whatever it was, this wasn’t the behavior of a normal 2-year-old.

13
Nov

Crumble Life

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

After the day’s hard work I returned to my hut. In the corner slept my 9-year-old daughter, abused recently by rich boys. My fisherman husband had strayed far into the sea. Hungry I walked to the corner of the hut. There was a tomato and two slices of stale bread. I made a soup. The bread, I broke it down to crumbs. Counting one for one suffered sorrow, I drowned it in the soup. I and my girl sipped it as long as possible, in silence, wishing all the sorrows would drown the same way in this crumb of life.

From Guest Contributor Thriveni C. Mysore