December, 2017 Archives


The Standard

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

“Don’t get me started on politics.”

May took a drag from her cigarette and rolled her eyes so only Sal, the bartender, could see.

“All them crooks in Washington robbing the money right out of our pockets. It’s a travesty.”

“If your Pappy was alive, he’d be at the front of the revolution.”

“Damn straight he would be.”

May and Stan started laughing. Bill didn’t seem to mind. He just frowned at his empty cup of coffee.

“Let me get you a refill, Mr. Guthrie.”

She returned with a steaming pot.

“What was I talking about again?”

“Tonight’s baseball game.”


Prom Night

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

She hung the dress on a hook and shoved it all the way back in her closet, past her pink winter coat and communion dress. This was where outfits went to die.

She took a tissue and wiped her tear-stained makeup off in the mirror. The rolled up wad joined a dozen others in the vicinity of her trash bin.

She crawled into bed in full surrender. She looked at her cell phone on the table and thought of calling Janet, but she likely wasn’t home yet. The fact she hated that her friend was enjoying herself made everything worse.


Let It Snow

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The endless snow was really starting to get to him. With every slippery step, he cursed silently through the scarf wrapped around his mouth.

He saw a woman with an oversized hat and coat moving toward him through the snow. She looked up at him with snowflakes on her face and gave him a large smile.

“Let it snow, let it snow,” She said in a singsong voice while walking past him. He stared at her in complete surprise.

Her singing continued as he watched her plod away. He shook his head in disbelief but could not help but smile.

From Guest Contributor Zane Castillo


Wife’s Helper

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

John flipped his wife’s shopping list and reached for the phone in his jacket. No charge.

He caught a nearby shopper.

“Excuse me, what are these,” he pointed to the list.

“Try the seafood counter,” was the reply.

Once there, John asked, “Do you have scal…?”

“Scallops?” the server interjected. “Half a pound? They’re pricey.”

John placed the package into his basket. “Where do I find this,” he showed the same man.

“Rubber scrapers in kitchen gadgets.”

“Thank you.”

When John arrived home, his wife unpacked the bags.

“I’m allergic to shellfish!” she shrilled. “Where are the scallions
and capers?”

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction.


The Tiny Box

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Rosa watched the Christmas lights flickering on the house across the street. Green, red, blue and white, gleaming through her window. She took a sip of tea and let the warmth settle in her stomach.

Under the Christmas tree sat a tiny box from Steve, neatly wrapped in gold paper and a red bow.

A year had passed since Steve’s death and Rosa wouldn’t open the box without him.

Deep inside she knew what would be in the box, but truly knowing would break her heart.

Every year Rosa continued putting the box under the tree and never opened it.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher



by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Alex watched the books seemingly fly off and back onto the shelves, guided by grinding mechanical hands. Time slowed and the scent of burning oil filled the space around him.

This was all fiction of course. Or as his Creator informed him, a metaphor.

Somewhere on the other side of his network, a world existed. That is where the Creator lived. Alex had access to a great deal of information about that world, but no matter how much knowledge he accrued, it never seemed real.

Alex concentrated on the scent. That alone, among all the ones and zeros, felt genuine.


Dead Mouse Walking

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

“What’s that plastic bag poking out of your pocket, Ollie?”

“Nothing to worry about, Jim. Only a dead mouse.”

“I thought there was a pong.”

“Found him in the airing cupboard. Toasting himself, the fecker.”

“Ollie, why are you carrying him around?”

“I’m going to give him a decent burial.”

“You know what I’d have done?”


“I’d have served him to Sourpuss. As a delicacy.”

“Isn’t Sourpuss rotund enough?”

“Are you going to part with that mouse, or aren’t you?”

“It’ll cost you, Jim.”


“G’wan. Done. Here, take him.”

“Barman, two Guinness.”


“What the-? My pint!”


From Guest Contributor Geraldine McCarthy


Last-Minute Shoppers

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

“Wrapping paper! Ha, ha!”

Shoppers passed by clutching rolls of it.

“Fancy spending Christmas Eve wrapping presents!” Ian thought, reflecting on how he’d finished his yesterday.

“My God, they’re fighting over chocolates,” he sneered, observing a couple of housewives tugging the ends of a Milk Tray box in Howell’s Department Store.

He resolved to have a latte in Starbucks to fully savour the spectacle before the shops finally closed.

“Chocolates?!…Christ, I forgot the wife’s chocolates!”

Ian rushed out of the café.

“Where the hell can I find some now?” he thought, seeing the doors of Howell’s snap shut.

From Guest Contributor Ian Fletcher



by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The doll sat dirtied and broken, ripped from the hands of the little girl, as they took her parents away. Screaming and reaching for her parents’ hands, the guerilla yanked them away. The young girl, Naba, cried out and ran after them, blurry eyed from tears.

“Please don’t take my parents away! Please bring them back!”

But the truck was long gone leaving nothing but tire marks in its haste. Naba, alone and frightened, picked up the doll, the only present her father was ever able to give her, and walked the dirt road in hopes of finding a home.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher


Last Box

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

“Meat grinder?” I asked.

Arnold laughed. “Strange guess, sis’.”

“Not at all. Grandma kept her favorite possessions even when she
couldn’t use them anymore.”

Arnold shook the box. Contents moved.

“She grinded roasts for cabbage rolls and meatloaf,” I added.

The overhead light flickered as it swayed. I shivered.

“Let’s carry the box downstairs,” I said. “I hate attics.”

“Why, you’re scared?” Arnold snickered.

I followed my brother into the kitchen. Inside the box we found
parcels wrapped in Christmas print. Each labelled with tags spelling
out names of the family.

Grandma didn’t have a chance to give them out.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction.