July, 2014 Archives


The Meaning Of Divorce: As Told By A Seven Year Old

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

My name is Caleb Jones. What does divorce mean? It means daddy doesn’t live here anymore. It means mommy and daddy used to fight, now daddy moved away. I don’t cry anymore. I can only see daddy on the weekends. Oh joy. My room seems grayer than I remember it being. My teddy bear, Howard, I hug him tighter than before.

Should I go out to play today?

No it’s raining, that’s ok I’ll read the book daddy bought me, last Christmas. It’s a good book. I read aloud. I can still smell daddy’s pipe as I read. Good night.

From Guest Contributor, Doug Robbins



by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Betsy wanted to slay a dragon. All her friends had killed at least one and it was embarrassing to show her face at the academy.

Sadly, Betsy’s father had strictly forbidden her from joining any quests. He kept telling her maybe when she’s older.

Betsy’s brother had resigned himself long ago to never slaying any dragons and he told Betsy she might as well give up too. “Dad’s never going to change his mind. He’s against all slayings. Mom says that it’s because his grandfather was a dragon.”

Betsy grew up to hate dragons more than any of her classmates.


My Last Hawaiian Vacation

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

My new swim trunks were still crispy and smelled of a fresh paint. I plunged into the warm Hawaiian water, ready for my long-postponed vacation. And then I saw Her.

She gave me a hearty, genuinely happy smile, exposing a string of perfect, pearly white teeth. Her tight black skin glittered under the sun. She was clearly into me.

I looked back at my family uncomfortably. Little Johnny was pointing his little finger in my direction: too late. My body split in half, the ocean stained scarlet.

Luckily, my swim trunks remained completely intact: Sharky did not like their taste.

From Guest Contributor, Olga Klezovitch

Olga is a scientist who lives in Seattle. Her previous work has appeared in 50-Word Stories, Necon E-Books, and A Story in 100 Words


The Devil Of Wall Street

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Walter Goggins is known to stock brokers everywhere as Wall Street poison. Every stock he’s purchased in the past 30 years has immediately gone into the tank. He turned 18 on October 19, 1987 and by the end of that afternoon, they were already calling it Black Monday.

Since then, he’s been quiet in his investments, ruining a Sears here and a Blackberry there with his ill-timed purchases. His urges sometimes get too much, however, and he’ll start buying up whatever stocks strike his fancy, as in 2000 or 2008.

Walter doesn’t care that he’s unlucky. He enjoys ruining companies.


A Stubborn Speck

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The elevator doors close with a ding. Alone inside, she hums and checks the mirror. The speck on her cheek looks unsightly, like a coal mine bent forward and kissed her.

She pulls out a tissue from her bag, and dabs at it. No luck. Nagging speck, like someone spit tar on to her face. Two more tissues, nothing.

The skin around it is reddening. Three more tissues, one after another. She’s getting restless as her floor draws near.

The seventh tissue does the trick. Someone from behind was kind enough to hand it to her.

The elevator doors open.

From Guest Contributor, Indu Pillai

Indu is a commercial writer based in Bangalore. Her fiction has appeared in Mash Stories and 50-Word Stories. She delights in all kinds of stories, written and unwritten. Twitter: @InduPillai01



by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

I did it. I killed her in cold blood. I hesitated at first, but she finally got on my nerves.

She tickled my ears, sat on my lap, and touched my private body parts. I asked her to stop but she kept going.

I slapped her in the face. She dropped onto the floor at once. Her skinny, crooked legs twitched a few times in utter disbelief and then she went silent. I picked her up, dropped her dead body in the garbage can, washed my hands, and went back to work.

My office is a “No-Fly Zone.” No exceptions.

From Guest Contributor, Olga Klezovitch

Olga is a scientist who lives in Seattle. Her previous work has appeared in 50-Word Stories and Necon E-Books.



by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The headlights shine into the speckled misty darkness and my tires shoosh me along the Interstate, still late and many miles from the warehouse. How many hours have I been on this road?

I roar past the billboard that urges me to arrive safely, before I pass one that tells me to drink and drive. Then comes my favourite: the cute white Nivea girl, her frilly chest lit up like cat’s eyes. I would love to think about that chest as I close my eyes and drift to sleep, but this vague honking will not let me sleep, just sleep

From Guest Contributor, Garreth Keating


The Last Transmission Of The Starship Pyramus

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

100 seconds to detonation. All crew evacuate immediately.

Rob, I…

You used to say “we were stardust once and we’ll all be stardust again.” You always were a sentimental son of a bitch.

Bobby, I’m about to break my promise.

60 seconds to detonation.

The Centauri ambushed us. So, new orders: set the charge. Lure them in. And then…

Well, there are worse things in life than a quick end.

30 seconds to detonation.

I’m sorry, Bobby. There’s so much to say…

Don’t worry about me. I’m staring at death,

10, 9, 8-

but all I can see is stardust.

From Guest Contributor, John Murray Lewis