July, 2016 Archives
Jul
Wanderlust
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
At age eleven I begged to travel to Venice, to see those water streets.
“My desert baby has wanderlust,” Mama laughed.
On weekends, if we had money for gas, she’d tell me, “Pick a direction.”
We stopped at roadside attractions to buy those tiny spoons. We ate questionable tamales. We took pictures with four different Paul Bunyan statues.
For my sixteenth birthday, we followed highway signs promising The Thing. Surprise! It was a fake mummy. Stomach dropping, I realized people like us never saw the Grand Canal.
“We’re lucky,” Mama whispered. “Italians don’t even dream about seeing something like this.”
From Guest Contributor L.L. Madrid
Jul
Somewhere Along The Line
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I used to believe that villains didn’t exist. That wrongdoers were victims of their circumstances, victims of their upbringing, or victims of their own tortured brains. I thought that ‘bad guys’ were just the people who didn’t get to frame the narrative; that ‘inner demons’ was code for the same primal and chemical conflicts that we refer to as depravity when found in those who fail to conceal them. I thought of the dichotomy of good and evil as merely a crutch for those who wish decisions were easy.
I never believed in villains. Until I realized I’d become one.
From Guest Contributor E.F. Boehm
Jul
Road To The Suburbs
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Her house was situated next to a busy route. A road which connected the city to the southern parts of the suburbs.
The whole year, living in that house without wired broadband, with the incessant dust of the road, and the smell of pollution as the trucks roared by; she could barely sleep.
In her dreams she murdered and killed drivers of four-wheeled vehicles, and imagined a day when she could make their lives miserable.
The next year the media went gaga over the unaccounted increase in car crashes on that road. She was not on the list of suspects.
From Guest Contributor Debarun Sarkar
Debarun sleeps, eats, reads, smokes, drinks, labors and occasionally writes stories and submits them. Recent works have appeared or are forthcoming in Off the Coast, The Opiate, Aainanagar, Rat’s Ass Review, Cerebration and here at A Story in 100 Words. He can be reached at debarunsarkar.wordpress.com
Jul
Contrast
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
A painting pulled me from across the room. Past spectators scrutinizing other exhibits. Past a man commenting on contemporary art.
I wanted to meet the artist and ask what had inspired him.
Hut alone in a field. The dark evening sky contrasted with flaxen wheat. No people or animals.
“Do you like it,” a man asked me.
“Too depressing,” I answered. “Looks familiar.”
“It’s the toolshed on my parents’ farm. As a boy, I took shelter there during a sudden storm.”
“So, you’re the artist,” I exclaimed eyeing him.
I left the gallery realizing we were once classmates at school.
From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs
Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. Her work has been published at: Nailpolish Stories, 50-Word Stories, 100 word story, 101 Words, Boston Literary Magazine, From the Depths (Haunted Waters Press), ShortbreadStories, SixWordMemoirs, and Espresso Stories.
Jul
Spring Cleaning
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Winter surrendered. Riverbanks croaked a single splash with each muddied footstep. Wild Sweet William’s dainty lavender flower mingled lush green leaves and twisting vines of yellow-hued buttercups and scarlet sumac. Scraps of ocean blue ribbon and coral-colored yarn frantically entwined weaving sticks and leaves, nesting six brown-speckled eggs. Wild turkeys gathered strutting rowed corn fields. Beneath the refuge of centenarian pine fawns struggle against tottering wobbled legs. Snapping turtles lazily sit side by side sunning on downed oak logs across the trickling eddy. A deluded hummingbird, hoodwinked by an empty bird feeder, tells me to get busy.
From Guest Contributor Christy Schuld
Jul
The Hobo
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“Take my wedding rings. I don’t use them anymore,” the hobo said to me.
Zelda and I were outside Tiffany’s, but it was closed. We had just decided to elope. We had arrived at the store too late.
“You can’t be serious,” I said. “How much money do you want for them?”
“None. With my wife dead, I have no use for money.”
“Don’t you wish to keep the rings anyway?”
“No, you two need them more than me. I still have her picture. Go on. Take them.” He forced the rings into my hand.
“Thank you very much, sir.”
From Guest Contributor Mark Beddard
Jul
Mid-Night Dilemma
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Am I awake? Had I actually slept? I was fighting the urge to check my watch but the curiosity of what unholy hour this was got the better of me.
Slipping my hand out from under the sleeping bag I paused.
No.
Just close your eyes, go back to sleep it’s too early for this.
As I closed my eyes, my thoughts swirled attempting to deduce and desperately seeking an answer I knew would destroy my chances to sleep again this night.
Just sleep.
I can’t.
Inevitably the unbearable urge won and I was cursed with the answer I sought.
From Guest Contributor Michael Major
Jul
Haircut
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
That summer when everything in his life seemed to be going just right, he finally contemplated cutting his hair. It had been over a decade now, and the summer heat showed no sign of dying down.
Compared to other years, he had enough companionship around him to sustain what he thought would be the antithesis of a lonely life. One girl and a woman were deeply in love with him. He thought it was the best time for a fresh start.
As the heat soared he finally cut his hair off, and both the women suddenly disappeared from his life.
From Guest Contributor Debarun Sarkar
Debarun sleeps, eats, reads, smokes, drinks, labors and occasionally writes stories and submits them. He can be reached at debarunsarkar.wordpress.com