January, 2022 Archives
Jan
Cloudy Day
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Nothing hurts like the pain in my chest or the ache in my head. Thoughts of my grandma’s last embrace grip me. I look up, expecting to see her face in the clouds, but all I see is rain. Perhaps, her tears appear as raindrops, and her face is only visible to angels. I was once her angel. She took with her my wings, the same ones that gave me the strength to fly above obstacles. I hold her umbrella above me, her scarf wrapped around my neck. Some say I inherited her kindness, the only inheritance that truly matters.
From Guest Contributor Ernestina Aggrey
Jan
Relationships
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Anna reflected on her most cherished companions.
There wasn’t a room in her home that didn’t feel their presence. They helped her become organized and value the importance of scheduling her days.
When they stopped behaving as expected, especially at times of need, Anna fell apart.
Her son noticed the untimely demise. How she missed appointments or arrived late for others. How her personality took on an air of grumpiness.
“Let’s get you back on track,” he said, visiting one day.
Once he fitted batteries into the once silenced clocks, his mother bounced back.
Her time-focused companions ticked on.
From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs
Krystyna writes poetry, fiction and creative nonfiction while trying to keep warm through a Canadian winter.
Jan
Temperature Rising
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Rudder lay on the trainer’s table writhing in agony. His throwing arm was swollen to bulbous proportions. A nasty, blistering rash spread from his wrist to his shoulder. His body convulsed with chills, a fever of 105°.
“Have you been self-treating again?” the team doctor asked.
“Just some analgesic balm. The big game’s on Sunday and my arm’s killing me. I need to be ready.”
“How much balm?”
“Four tubes.”
“What! The body can’t absorb that much!”
“Will I be okay by kickoff?”
“There’s no way you’re playing!” the doctor said. “You’ve got a severe case of Ben Gay Fever!”
From Guest Contributor Lee Hammerschmidt
Lee is a Visual Artist/Writer/Troubadour who lives in Oregon. He is the author of the short story collections, A Hole Of My Own and It’s Noir O’clock Somewhere. Check out his hit parade on YouTube!
Jan
Any Other Year
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
It’s “New Year’s Eve”, and Nick sits in front of the television gulping beer waiting for the ball to drop. His dog Gatsby rests his head on Nick’s lap seeking attention.
“Okay,” Nick says and rubs Gatsby’s head. “How’s that feel?” Gatsby contentedly wags his tail.
His neighbors are causing a raucous across the hall, laughing and playing loud music which fills the hallway, but the property owner doesn’t care since he’s there too. Nick, a loner, considers his science teaching job and Gatsby his friends.
The ball drops and Nick’s year will be the same as any other year.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Jan
Bathroom Tile
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
‘Once upon a time someone tried to imitate marble with porcelain.
Understandable; humans have been artificially recreating nature since the cavemen. It’s our nature to synthesize.’
Arnold stood in the bathroom of his newly rented apartment, pondering its cladding.
A 12×12 tile covered the floor and all four walls. The same pink-veined beige tile, repeated 286 times.
‘But this imitation fails instantly due to the repetition. Nothing could be less realistic.’
He felt he’d been given insight into an anonymous tile designer’s mindset. He didn’t know how to interpret it, but he had a year-long lease to mull it over.
From Guest Contributor Olivia Rerick
Jan
Dragonfly And Crow
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
We—who were left by the fire after the boss stood on the flame’s waving edge, wearing his black suit and immaculate boots, to tell the dragonfly and the crow that had bedeviled his every moment since the fire’s first spark that he had found a solution and would soon be free of their cruelty, that he, the boss, would soon pull off their wings and grind them into dust, and then turned, the boss, and ran into the flames—joined our hands before spreading blankets on scorched grass, opening bottles of cold beer, and sharing figs fatter than those in eternity.
From Guest Contributor John Riley
John is a former teacher who works in educational publishing. He has published fiction and poetry in Smokelong Quarterly, Mojave River Review, Ekphrastic Review, Connotation Press, Banyan Review, Better Than Starbucks, and many other journals and anthologies. EXOT Press will publish a book of his 100-word prose poems in 2022.
Jan
He’s Got Theories
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The splinter was dug in so deep Jacob couldn’t see it anymore, let alone fish it out with the tweezers. By now the skin around the wooden sliver was red and hot to the touch.
“You need to go to the doctor.”
“No way.”
It had been nearly a week now, but he was still unwilling to relent.
“You’re going to get sick. I heard of people losing a finger because of the infection. C’mon, I’ll drive.”
“Maybe I’ll chop it off myself. That way at least I’ll be sure the microchip is out.
“Not everything is a conspiracy, Jacob.”
Jan
Cage
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The town came to the zoo based on the promise of a special exhibit of animals captured with great difficulty. The audience was truly impressed.
“My god, they are ten times our size.”
“They are bellowing so loud they can be heard ten towns away. The shrieking hurts my ears and might leave me deaf.”
Despite their fear people stuck around, mesmerized by the crazed beasts. They trusted the extra thick bars in the cage.
Their trust was ill-advised. The humans broke out of the cage and stomped the crowd into the ground. Three thousand Xanians died painfully.
From Guest Contributor Doug Hawley
Jan
One Last Time
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The ringing in Timothy’s ears from nearby bombs gives way to headaches and fear. Doctors are scrambling while patients are moaning and yelling for their mothers.
He closes his eyes and remembers the last time kissing Amanda, laying under the large oak tree after a summer picnic. Her lips tasting of fresh strawberries, the sweetness giving him a quiver. He wants to go back to that happier, peaceful place.
A nurse is moving his stretcher with great speed. “We need to evacuate.”
As the blinding brightness approaches the vehicle, and soldiers scream, he tastes Amanda’s strawberry kiss one last time.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Jan
The Final Procedure
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
She lays on the table like a forgotten doll, eyes closed. The final procedure is complete.
Let it work.
A moment of silence, then she opens her eyes. And smiles.
“Hi, Daddy!”
“I’m David.”
“But you’re…old.”
She searches her memory, then cries out.
“The car!”
“It can’t hurt you, Rachel.”
It hurt me. The drunk barreling down the road, right at her. And I, her big brother, her protector, too far away.
She wraps her arms around me.
“Don’t cry.”
I hug her to me.
“What is this place?” she asks.
“My laboratory. This is where I make cyborgs.”
From Guest Contributor Eric Petersen