by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Matthew has a friend who works at NASA. His friend Kent is on the team that is launching a manned mission to Mars next week.

On the day of the launch with the help of Kent he is able to sneak his girlfriend Kim aboard the ship.

A few hours after the launch, Kim wakes up. She is wearing a spacesuit with a note posted on her chest.

She reads the note. “I know you really want to go to Mars. Love, Matthew.”

Kim screams, “You idiot, I said I want to go to the bars, get your hearing checked!”

From Guest Contributor Denny E. Marshall



by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

“Something landed in our yard,” I announced.

Harold unlocked the backdoor, glanced around.

“Softball,” he hollered. “Next door thugs peering over our fence.
Undies on their clothesline again.”

“I’m cooking. How about returning the ball?”

“Nope. They know where it is,” Harold grumbled holding a newspaper.

When the doorbell rang, he answered. Two boys asked permission to
retrieve their ball.

“Nice kids. Better than the previous neighbors. Remember, they hung
sheets on that silly clothesline to avoid talking with us.”

I looked out the kitchen window.

Our neighbor had taken down the underwear. Sheets strung the length of
the clothesline.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction.


Future Perfect

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

It had taken some time to bring the fixer-upper to a standard he could happily call home.

He was in the company of all who cursed the pope amid the loyalist festivities.

He dusted and buffed his bowler unto that classy matt gleam. His sash shone with the pride of centuries.

“Why not be ‘triumphalist’?”

There was no response. None needed.

He wore long johns and fleece under the treasured regalia.

“A dry day,” he affirmed.

He practiced a few tunes on his fife and strode purposefully from his front door.

Alone he trod the permafrost-patterned ground of Devon Island.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid


He Will Think I Don’t Love Him Anymore

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Seven-year-old Ava Mendez fidgets with Mimi’s cellphone in her lap.

Abruptly it rings. She smacks the green button. A recording informs her it’s a free call from her daddy, being recorded.

Press one to accept. Hastily she slams her little finger onto the keypad.

Horror grips her sullen face as tears flow uncontrollably, realizing she pressed the number two in haste.

Nothing but dial tone. She wails for her Mimi. “I have to talk to my daddy,” she cries.

Daddy, in a holding cell waiting for deportation, has not forgotten nor heard her angelic voice in three days and nights.

From Guest Contributor Yknow


A Loving Wife

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Debra sat beside her husband’s hospital bed, the click of the monitor a regular tune in her head. Barry laid there, his breathing calm and steady. Seeing him hooked up to tubes and unconscious was an unbearable sight. Still, she read to him daily and hoped he heard, but his eyes never opened. It had been one year since his car accident. Trauma to the brain was what the doctor called it.

“I love you, Barry, but it’s time to let you go,” she gently kissed his lips.

As the doctor unplugged the monitor, Debra watched Barry’s chest stop moving.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher


The Bottle Spins

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

“Screw you!” I scream through bloody cracked lips.

He turns his head and looks at me curled up on the cold granite floor. He smiles. Ash from his cigarette drops onto his cheap suit. He carefully brushes it off, not once taking his eyes off me.

On the floor by his feet is an empty wine bottle lying on its side. Slowly, he bends down and spins it once more.

We all watch its slow revolution, desperately praying it won’t point in our direction.

God is not with me today. My silent prayer goes unanswered.

It was my turn again.

From Guest Contributor Mike Jackson

Mike lives in the UK and enjoys writing short tales, especially Drabbles. Many of his offerings can be found on his blog ‘Stories In Your Pocket.’


The Confrontation

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Two street-wise punks entered the fast food restaurant looking for trouble. With food loaded on trays, they turned to the seating area. One of the two nudged the other and nodded toward a table for six with an elderly lady alone. SLAM! She jumped when they slammed their trays onto the table. A sneer toward the young men said it all.

“Bobby, do you know who your father is?”

“Nope. You?”

“Me neither.”

Smiling, they were sure they had her goat.

Finally, the elderly lady spoke to the two young men. “Would one of you bastards please pass the napkins?”

From Guest Contributor NT Franklin



by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

In the weeks after her mother died, Pamela had no skin. Everything was surface—every twitching nerve, every gush of bile. When Creepy Carl told her to smile as he dropped off his rent check, her lips peeled back to the bone.

At home, she told Ben: I know about the girl you’ve been fucking for the last four months. Your intern. In our God damn bed.

Come on, baby, he said, it wasn’t like that.

But it was. She wouldn’t have her raw insides sheathed in lies. She slept in the guest room, on top of the blankets, oozing resentment.

From Guest Contributor Carrie Cook

Carrie received her MA in Creative Writing from Kansas State University and is currently living in Colorado. Her work has appeared in The Columbia Review, Midwestern Gothic, Menacing Hedge, and Bartleby Snopes.



by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Worst thing about having a drunken Da who pissed people off was that Malachy tended to suffer from ‘trickle-down’ syndrome: friendships nurtured in his own child-like manner evaporating as parents infected would-be playmates with their contempt for his father.

He crouched over the little burn on farmland close to his suburban home watching the tadpoles emerge from frogspawn, eager to claim a hopper for his very own.

There was a sizeable puddle in his backyard courtesy of poor drainage.

The leprous ache inside expanded to form tundra.

Still, it was quiet, and the symphony of wind and wildlife was wonderful.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid



by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Marvin is out cold after his drink is spiked.

He wakes up to a group of men around him laughing. The men hate shapeshifters. Each of Marvin’s limbs is tied with rope, the ropes attached to bulldozers.

The signal is given and the bulldozers pull away at the same time.

Marvin is stretched to eight meters, then twenty. At forty meters Marvin snaps into pieces and dies.

Clark the shapeshifter gets there too late. Clark transforms into a T. Rex and says, “Hear you’re looking for me.”

Clark will avenge the death of his best friend, Marvin the Elastic Man.

From Guest Contributor Denny E. Marshall