June, 2018 Archives

8
Jun

The Change

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

“Watta you gonna do?”

“I don’t know.” It was getting dark.

“You could run away.”

“Where would I go?”

“California?”

“That far?”

“Or Mexico.”

“I don’t speak Spanish.”

“Then just give it back.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I already spent it on candy.”

His friend thought about that. “Can I have some?”

“I ate it all.”

After watching the traffic at the intersection for a while, the boy’s friend got up. “I can’t go to California,” he said apologetically.

“Why not?”

“I’m not allowed to cross the street.”

“Yeah,” the little boy still sitting on the curb admitted, “me neither.”

From Guest Contributor Jean Blasiar

7
Jun

Tracks

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The snow showed her tracks. It was easy for them to follow her. They were clumsy and noisy, but were on her trail. At this pace, she was not sure how long she could last.

As the snow came down harder, her tracks were getting covered and would make them hard to follow. If the snow continued at this rate, her tracks would be obliterated and she would be safe. Then she could stop and rest, and hide under some fir trees until they passed or gave up. She would live another day and maybe give birth to her fawn.

From Guest Contributor NT Franklin

5
Jun

Unexpected

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Lucy turned up the car radio. It was their song and it reminded her of his soft touch on her body and the warmth of his breath on her face. Jim was taken too soon from an unexpected illness and the pain jabbed at her heart. She longed to hear his laughter and see his big dimples. His family didn’t approve of their relationship. She was older, divorced and not Catholic. But they were in love.

Lucy drove up the driveway and rubbed her stomach. How would she tell a family that disliked her that Jim would’ve been a father?

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

4
Jun

The Man On The Stair

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

It wanted my attention!

An icy breath of air hit me in the face, whispering something in my left ear.

I looked up at the staircase, narrow and active, only to see its black hair dangling over the banister, and its face blank.

I froze yet was intrigued.

Am I going mad?

I called out to it, “Who are you?”

Then it was gone.

I started to think it was the same thing that “pushed” the towels off the banister, even damp ones!

I called him “the towel man.”

I am a “skeptic on the turn,” although he’s long gone.

From Guest Contributor Tanya Fillbrook