May, 2016 Archives
May
Blood In The Dirt
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The man strolled to the saloon, thinking about what he had done and what he would do now. His family had been killed and thanks to him their murderers were dead too. Revenge had been his life from the time he was fourteen.
He pushed his way up to the bar. He ordered a whiskey and sipped it.
A drunk yelled at him to pull his gun; it didn’t matter why to him.
He said, “Not here,” and he walked into the street.
The drunk followed.
“I’ll see you all soon,” the man muttered as his tears fell. “Now draw!”
From Guest Contributor Dylan Baker
May
Pull Tab – Lift Cover
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“Hold corner tear along dotted line.” Pulling the seam cereal exploded everywhere. Darn, another bag with a large tear.
Reaching for the unopened milk carton the instructions read: “Push up.” Using both hands it still wouldn’t separate. I grabbed a steak knife loosening the space between. Milk spilled everywhere. Darn instructions. If it says “snip corner,” sauce spurts out. If it’s a spray nozzle, it pops off. If it’s a “tamper proof cap,” it never comes off.
Mm, maybe a bagel with cream cheese. How hard is it to “Pull tab – lift cover.” Never mind, I’m starving. Where’s that knife?
From Guest Contributor Dana Sterner
May
Blaze Of Glory
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
In the gloom a solitary light illuminated the Führer’s portrait.
“Two minutes oxygen left.”
No one responded.
Cross-legged like the Buddha, Steiner seemed at peace, thinking of his wife and son. Even Müller was becalmed, resigned to an iron coffin at nineteen.
Captain Mayer had himself fired the torpedo that sank the British battleship.
Submerging, a destroyer had detected them, the depth charge fracturing the hull.
They were the only three to survive, closing the hatch of the control room.
Losing consciousness, Mayer looked from the Führer’s eyes to the light. Ah! The explosion of the torpedo finding its target!
From Guest Contributor Ian Fletcher
Ian is originally from South Wales. He studied English Literature at Oxford University many years ago. He lives in Taiwan with his family and is a high school teacher there. He has also been a freelance writer for over 14 years, writing articles for Taiwanese educational textbooks. He has had short stories published in various genres in Schlock! Webzine, Schlock! Bi-Monthly, Short-story.me, Anotherealm, Under the Bed, A Story In 100 Words, and in anthologies by Horrified Press and Rogue Planet Press. He is an Affiliate Member of the Horror Writers Association.
May
Monster
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I can feel it approaching, getting closer with each passing second. I never know when it will arrive, but can sense whenever it’s near. I can hear the monster making its move. I run into the bedroom, and slam the door shut. Just in time to hear the front door creak. Footsteps creep close, attempting to be silent. Covering my eyes tight, I hope the monster will leave me be. The door pushes ajar, the overwhelming smell of the monster invading my senses.
The monster says, “Hello.”
I take a deep breath and uncover my eyes to face my mother-in-law.
From Guest Contributor Eliza Salisbury
May
I Cannot Agree
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
It’s been a difficult trial.
The jury presents a guilty verdict.
I cannot agree with this jury. So, I tell them, “Members of the jury, in light of my 20 years of judicial experience, I find there is no evidence the defendant was near the crime scene, nor even knew the victim. Therefore, I declare the evidence insufficient to convict and hereby overturn the guilty verdict. Bailiff, release the prisoner.”
The courtroom is aghast.
I sit back down.
The judge says, “Well, Mr. Kaufman, now I’m sorry I asked if the defendant had anything to say. Bailiff, remove the prisoner.”
From Guest Contributor Kent V. Anderson
When Kent isn’t writing stories, he is building robots.
May
Tool
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“This is my weekend,” Hugh told the windscreen, almost colliding with the car in front. “Hold on.” He tuned out until he could give the Bluetooth his full attention. The car skidded to a stop on the gravelly lay-by.
“You can’t spare the time to drop him off? No problem, I’ll collect him.”
Glaring at traffic, he struggled to keep his response relatively civil.
“Your lover-boy gardener is intimidated by me?
He’s wattnow?
Right … gardener just long enough to plough you, eh?
Too bad, Cathal’s my son–
Bronagh?”
Hugh stared into space, eventually noticing an ironic sign.
WRONG WAY.
From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid
May
The Passing Of A Friend
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Migrant storekeeper Piero Altobelli met word of his old friend’s recent passing with great consternation. Upon hearing, he leapt from his desk in the backroom of his little grocery and flew into a rage. He swatted the week’s receipts into the floor, ripped the telephone from the wall, and yanked the office door from its hinges. All the while bemoaning at the top of his lungs. So uncontrollable was he, not even his wife Maria, could calm him.
“Somebody better tell that summabitch next time he pass a by my store,” cried Piero. “He better pay me what he owes.”
From Guest Contributor Russ Sparks
Russ is currently an MFA student attending Lindenwood University.