December, 2020 Archives
Dec
Tire Chains
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“I’m packing tire chains in the boys’ luggage. Just wrap them around the tires,” the father of my two nephews advised.
“Sounds easy.” I reply. “We’ll have fun in the snow!”
Three days later, my nephews and I are standing by the snow-laden roadside with tire chains wrapped around the axle.
We look forlorn and lost. A park ranger passes by, a CHP passes by, and a dozen travelers glance at a young woman and two children in distress.
“Lady? Need some help?” says a tatooed Hell’s Angel over the roar of his Harley.
“Please! You are an angel. Thanks.”
From Guest Contributor Deborah Shrimplin
Dec
The Roundabout
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
We are on a holiday in Greece. Jim is at the wheel and I am navigating our return to Athens from Marathon. The roads are frantic and the drivers insane. We did not arrange for a GPS in the rental car, which was a mistake.
Suddenly we find ourselves at a roundabout. Jim asks tersely, “Which exit do I take?”
“Slow down so I can read the signs,” I bark back. “Is that upside-down Greek “y” an “L” in English?”
The meaning of the expression “It’s all Greek to me” makes sense now.
Six circumnavigations later, we’re on our way.
From Guest Contributor Janice Siderius
Dec
Assembly Required
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
His parents were poorly assembled themselves. Throw meth and booze into it, and no wonder he grew into a discombobulated mess.
Those who tried to help fled after one too many black eyes from his spazzed-out fists. Well-meaning therapists nodded blankly as he sobbed.
One part worked, though: his left pinkie.
Undoing himself was no walk in the park; piecing himself together was the challenge of a lifetime.
Through trial and error, he bravely persevered.
And one day, like a miracle, all his parts beautifully aligned—with only an occasional faint clicking sound to remind him how far he’d come.
From Guest Contributor Michelle Wilson
Michelle Wilson’s words have appeared in Entropy Squared, 50-Word Stories, 101 Words, Literally Stories, The Miami Herald, and elsewhere. She lives in Miami Beach, Florida. Sometimes, she can be found here.
Dec
Warm Memory
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
A friend says he thinks of Andy Warhol and his pop art when he sees Campbell’s soup cans. But when I see Campbell’s soup cans, I think of my mother.
When younger, I would come home from school on frigid days to the smell of Campbell’s tomato soup, anxious to sit and have the warmth sooth my chilled body.
Now an old man, I still sip Campbell’s soup and remember my mother’s radiance lighting up the room and her deep blue eyes sparkling under the overhead light in our old kitchen. She’s been gone years, but I feel her presence.
From Guest Contributor Lisa Scuderi-Burkimsher
Dec
Kesaran-Pasaran
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
When I walked into the village, white fur balls kept falling from the sky.
“What are they?” I asked a villager.
“They’re kesaran-pasaran.”
They floated through the air like dandelion spores. On sunny days, they fell and covered the ground. On rainy days they spread and multiplied. The dead ones fueled the city. Their spirits harvested crops and generated electricity.
“What do we know? Our livelihood totally depends on them,” the villager said, laughing.
One day I left the village. When I turned back, the village was gone. Instead, white fluff balls spread as far as the eye could see.
From Guest Contributor Yukari Kousaka
Translated by Toshiya Kamei
Born in Osaka in 2001, Yukari Kousaka is a Japanese poet, fiction writer, and essayist. Translated by Toshiya Kamei, her short fiction has appeared in New World Writing.
Dec
The Bad News First
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Every morning there were dumpsters full of newborn babies. Every evening there was one brown shoe at the side of the road – with, some said, a foot still in it, tapping. I developed a theory that we were all just the debris of a distant explosion. By then I knew no one was coming to save me. Even the letter carrier would regularly ask for proof I was who I was before handing me my mail. As I took my driver’s license out of my wallet, little white spiders would fall from somewhere and melt like snowflakes in her hair.
From Guest Contributor Howie Good
Howie’s latest full-length poetry collection, Gun Metal Sky, is due in early 2021 from Thirty West Publishing.
Dec
Brad
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Brad is splayed out on his couch watching the Seahawks. He is surrounded by snacks and beer. He had played football in college but had never made The League, a great disappointment. Suddenly Brad felt very sleepy. He put down his beer and closed his eyes. “I will rest for a few minutes,” he sighed.
In the next moment, Brad is running down the field in a large, noisy stadium. People in the stands are cheering him on. Brad has never felt so exhilarated.
Brad’s wife comes into the room, screams, and dials 911. Brad has achieved his wildest dream.
From Guest Contributor Janice Siderius
Dec
Haunted
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
More than spirits, ghosts are the chill of a finger tracing your spine, a whisper only loud enough for you to hear, a memory of something long gone. What happens when the ghosts I’m afraid of are the ones that are alive? Will they continue to feed on me until there is nothing left? Will I join the other ghosts then? Piece by piece, they keep picking away until I am nothing. Will they pity me? The girl they once knew was full of life; and now, she is no better than the rest of them. A bag of bones.
From Guest Contributor Kelsey Swancott
Kelsey is a senior majoring in English with a minor in Visual Arts and Spanish while also being involved in the campus literary magazine Angles. She plans on furthering her education by getting her masters degree in English as well.