May, 2018 Archives
May
The Warrior’s Path
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The warrior sharpened his sword every day by slicing individual strands of grass. He started in the front of his house and worked his way, patch by patch, blade by blade, towards the back. When he finished the last corner, the grass in front had grown long again. Without pausing, he would get to his feet and return to the starting point, ready to start over.
In this way, his weapon remained sharp, always ready to draw blood. And in this way, time had nothing with which to compare itself to and became lost.
Such is the path to immortality.
May
Love Letters
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
They sit in the bottom of a shoebox in a dusty corner of an attic on an unremarkable street in a neighborhood that could be located almost anywhere. Love letters. Old, forgotten love letters. They were written over thirty years ago by two people who barely exist anymore, only one of whom lives in this particular house. He doesn’t remember they’re there, of course, and she, wherever she is, doesn’t remember writing them. She has moved on, married someone else, had kids, just like he did. But the letters remain, fading reminders of a forgotten passion neither one feels anymore.
From Guest Contributor Dan Slaten
May
The Sandbox
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The days pass, and with each exhale, from nothing, there is formation of something; something new. She kneads Gaia’s dough to create substance; substance from silt. Steadfast, the new titan’s loamy paws fury on, and her reliefs; bring her relief.
Unknown eyes gaze in unease, at the new one, at Poseidon and Hephaestus as one, a little one, a guileless deity of change. Born from the inertia of Chaos, born as something different; different than what was before. The Twelve gaze in unease. Deimos pours another round. In their kylixes, they see moving mountains. It’s time to protect their home.
From Guest Contributor Kyle Malloy
May
Daydreaming
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Morning. Walking to the shops in a daydream, hungover. My mind wanders and takes me somewhere else….
I am sitting at the bar in the Wolf Dog Tavern with John. I ask the landlord to sub me a fifty. The landlord moans, ‘go and cut some lawns and make your own money.’ I tell him that I will have money next week. John was going to cut his lawn by the fish factory.
A lady snaps me out of my reverie, I must have be talking aloud and waving my hands.
‘You alright?’ She asks assuming that I am mad.
From Guest Contributor Declan Kelly
Declan lives in Mayo, Ireland. He is a big fan and follower of Irish heritage, culture, and beer.
May
Revenge
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Home for a funeral, I pop into my local of yesteryear.
I recognize that boozy bleary-eyed pig face propping up the bar.
Wilkins, the school bully!
Wanker!
How he’d tormented me forty years ago, but clearly he remembers me not.
How I’ve fantasized about going back in time and standing up to him!
But now he has aged, badly, looking like a grotesquely inflated beach ball with his vast beer belly, all muscle turned to flab.
I fantasize about following him out at closing time and beating him up but desist, for life has already done the job for me.
From Guest Contributor Ian Fletcher
May
The Snake Tree
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The forest saw it all. Less than a moon turn she lasted.
Wrapped in a shroud, he planted her in the leafy earth under the shade of birch and pine. Worms and beetles took her to the forest, bit by bit.
She called to him from the snake tree, and he rushed to her while the moon shone across the water. They lay on sheets of green. Her embrace was stronger than death. Beetles and worms took him bit by bit. The rustle of leaves and the sighing of wind.
The forest saw it all and the forest was pleased.
From Guest Contributor David Rae
David lives in Scotland. He loves stories that exist just below the surface of things, like deep water.
He has most recently had work published or forthcoming in; THE FLATBUSH REVIEW, THE HORROR TREE, LOCUST, ROSETTA MALEFICARIUM, SHORT TALE 100, and 50 WORD STORIES. You can read more at Davidrae-stories.com
May
Tick Tock
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
With his apartment empty and no sounds other than the ticking of the clock, Timothy took a walk in the cold night air until a bright sign caught his eye. Psychic Reading. Reluctantly, he went inside.
“I’m, Tianna. Sit.”
Tianna smoothed her fingers across his palm. “You will be the cause of a terrible accident.”
Upset, Timothy stormed out and crossed the street when he heard a woman’s voice.
“Hey, you didn’t pay me!”
He turned and then a car came to a screeching halt, but not before hitting Tianna.
Still on the ground, her eyes open, Tianna was dead.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
May
Calypso: Bright-Eyed Goddess
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Unknown amongst them,
she sits; awe and wonder.
Blazing eyes searching,
surrounded, glorious banquet,
wondering of the occasion.
‘Where is your father?’
Calypso forbidden his return!
Wanting the strong man herself,
locked away, a vaulted cave;
awaiting his love.
Prisoner of the Nymph’s love.
‘I actually heard he was home!’
The gods, it seemed, had sinister plans.
Not returned from battle,
vanished, Never to be seen again.
‘What is the meaning of this banquet?’
Men of Troy had heard of the banishment,
their behavior animalistic.
Seeking the love of the ‘widow,’
leaving the son belittled,
doomed to an inglorious future.
From Guest Contributor Melissa Land
May
Writing Over
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I had
This poem
That was like
Re-
Fusing
To be
Like junk
Running late
In your veins
Re-
Wiring
Memories
Before they
are made
Okay, they
are not
sunk in
That deep
But narrative
About this
Is on its
Way but
its late
just like
This feeling-
Passing-
Feeling
Re-
Living
Screens to
Sublimated
Dreams
I’m walking
And the sun
Hits me
Everyone wants
To have
Something
They don’t
See, in you
this poetry
Concealed in
A voice
But they will keep
Writing your
Story over
Before it is
One
Before once
Even noting
That your poem
Is already
From Guest Contributor Wyatt Martin
May
Chivalry
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“How many years do you think we’ve known each other?” Zoey asked.
“I dunno, at least since pre-school. We’re both thirty now,” I replied. We walked the cobbled roads of Newburyport. The clouds looked like lines of poetry.
“You go first this time,” Zoey said.
“I like holding the door for you though.”
“Damn it, Tyreke. Why do you always hold the door, and hold the umbrella, and make me coffee? Women can do things you know.”
“I know that.”
“Do you feel you have to protect me, or be a man, or–––“
“I do them because I love you.”
From Guest Contributor Steve Colori