Innocence Lost

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Robyn watched the memorial for an hour before shutting the television. The numerous innocent casualties grieved her. Eighteen-years-later and September 11th, 2001 remained visible. The screams and falling debris echoed, and the blackened sky that had been full of abundant sunshine before the tragedy, frightened her.

She took a deep breath and poured herself a steaming cup of herbal tea. The warmth soothed her stomach.

Robyn had left her 911 operator job that very evening. The towers collapsing had brought her over the edge and the voices of people pleading for help still haunted her.

Tears formed and tea spilled.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher



by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

I opened my eyes and spoke with the angel at the foot of my bed.

He didn’t have wings or look like Brad Pitt. His name was Derek; originally from Basildon.

“What happened to me, Derek?”

“You’re dead,” he replied.

“How?” I asked, my voice catching in my throat.

“Car crash.”


“An hour ago. They tried reviving you. Your time of death was six-thirty.”

“So, I was on my way home from work then?”

“I suppose so,” Derek replied, not seeming to care one way or the other.

“Did they say what caused it?”

“You were texting someone, apparently.”

From Guest Contributor Bernie Hanvey


The Stuttering Fool

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

“She sells sea shells by the seashore.”

I practiced ’til my eighteenth birthday. My last day of stuttering.

“I will ask Betty Montgomery on a date,” I told myself.

When I walked onto the beach behind her sea shell stand, I heard her say to her friend, Jill: “He’s such a stuttering fool.” She was talking about me. I couldn’t ask her but I stayed stutter free.

I bumped into her at the grocery store yesterday.

“Damn, you look good!” Time had been good to her too but I couldn’t tell her.

“Who was that, Pa-Pa?” My grandson asked.


From Guest Contributor E. Barnes


A Netflix Original

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Two Scandinavian dudes set out in a vintage VW microbus to prove the secretary-general of the United Nations was the victim of assassination. But then, by accident, they discover an attempt to eliminate entirely the smoking of cigarettes after sex. The Scandinavians meet a leader of an underground militia who says that while that’s his signature on the document, he didn’t write the signature himself. I got to be honest, I was expecting more: maybe a “crime wall,” with photos and red strings and so on; maybe the angel of death promising in a mocking tone to stay in touch.

Howie Good is the author most recently of What It Is and How to Use It from Grey Book Press. He co-edits the journals Unbroken and UnLost.


Bee Grudged

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The creature basked in the sensory experience that was home, almost oblivious to the otherwise hypnotic aroma of clover which wafted in from beyond the hive’s entrance each summer.

To most fauna beyond the narrow and disguised access, this was an old tree clinging to its few remaining vital branches.

Rejuvenated, the worker set to follow the next wave out to forage for more nectar and the inadvertent spreading of pollen on which the rest of the planet depended.

Its world ended when a great hairy paw collapsed walls, mashing bee with wax and bark as the bear claimed honey.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid


Voices Of A New Generation

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Dealing with young people at work, Carson experienced flashbacks to his own sometimes turbulent adolescence. He recalled vividly his occasional intense suffering, not from outside influences, but from his own changing body. In particular, an unanticipated growth spurt when he shot up several inches in height in a short period of time. He even got stretch marks around his knees. Growing pains are real.

As he monitored hundreds of gestation tanks occupied by genetically-modified beings constantly infused with growth hormones, Carson was assailed by endless waves of primal screams.

Who’d have thought growing a clone army would be so noisy?

From Guest Contributor John H. Dromey

John’s short fiction has appeared in Mystery Weekly Magazine, Stupefying Stories Showcase, Thriller Magazine, Unfit Magazine, and elsewhere.


Sign Up For Our Newsletter

by thegooddoctor in News

Hey everyone,

Remember when I used to send out the occasional newsletter? Well, it’s been awhile. In fact, it’s been so long that MailChimp deleted my account. So I’m starting over.

Based on the fact I went a whole year without accessing my MailChimp, I don’t think I need to explain that you won’t receive many emails from me. But as an aspiring writing professional, having a core audience is essential, and I’m committed to making it work this time.

What can you expect from the occasional Entropy Squared newsletter? Well, I’m glad you asked. I’ll be featuring 100-word contributors, providing writing updates on my own projects, and sharing exclusive stories you won’t find anywhere else. There will also be some fun links and videos that fans of this site will likely enjoy.

Like this:

Here’s the link for signing up: http://eepurl.com/gANT09

I really appreciate everyone who reads and contributes to the site, and to anyone who signs up, thank you!



by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

“Do you love me?”

“Yes. I do love you. Don’t you trust me?”

When his love was gone, the reality hit him and it was very harsh. He wanted his love back in his life but it was impossible. He didn’t know what to do, where to go. He had lost everything. His love was gone forever. When things became unbearable, he lost his mind. He could feel those eyes staring at him. He could hear them laughing and screaming. When things went beyond the walls he tried to resist but failed. His dreams turned wet and became an illusion.

From Guest Contributor Sergio Nicolas



by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Nancy Botkin loves midnight. She stands on the porch, wind whispering. She watches moon drifting. Luminous, motherly, never leaving. A new day awakens. Possibilities rise.

She imagines a father who doesn’t burn her stories. Crinkling creation. Flames consuming.

A father who doesn’t demand her to clean. Buy booze.

She conjures leaving. Like Mama, selfish, enviable. Going wherever whims call.

Nancy can’t imagine the shape of winning. What a miracle truly feels like.

Dad always emerges, demands she get inside. She slinks in, weary, unable to find words. Leave me alone.

She hides pieces of dreams, waits for the next night.

From Guest Contributor Mir-Yashar Seyedbagheri

Mir-Yashar is a graduate of Colorado State’s MFA program in fiction. The recipient of two Honorable Mentions from Glimmer Train, he has also had work nominated for The Best Small Fictions. His work has been published or is forthcoming in journals such as 50 Word Story, Molecule Lit Mag, The Write City Magazine, and Agony Opera. He lives in Garden Valley, Idaho.


Daddy’s Little Girl

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

His little girl called and said that she was getting married.

When he first held her she weighed about as much as two large apples. He was told it could be only hours so say goodbye.

Hours turned into days and then years.

His wife never wanted to try again so his little girl would be the only one that went to see the Yankees with him and share the dogs, the overloaded nachos, the wings, sundaes, and when she was old enough, the brewskis.

“How do I look, Daddy?” The gown was perfect for her 400 pounds.

“Beautiful, Baby.”

From Guest Contributor E. Barnes