January, 2022 Archives
Jan
Country Noir
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
A B-girl with sleepy, mud-colored eyes slipped onto the stool next to mine. “I am here to entertain you,” she said and then added as a tease, “but only during my shift.” At least she wasn’t the kind of woman who would refer to poetry as “verse.” I conspicuously returned my attention to the ball game on the TV over the bar. She leaned in closer and started to stay something. I cut her off. It’s not that I wasn’t tempted; it’s just that I’m cautious. Prison workshops and small rural cemeteries are filled with men who should have been.
From Guest Contributor Howie Good
Howie is the author of Failed Haiku, a poetry collection that is the co-winner of the 2021 Grey Book Press Chapbook Contest and scheduled for publication this summer.
Jan
Dancing With The Boss
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“Listen…it’s that song where, in the music video, he picks someone from the audience and starts dancing with her.”
“He has better songs.”
“Did you know she became his wife?”
“You got it wrong. She’s an actress.”
“What do you mean?”
“Before she became famous for her role in that sitcom, she appeared in commercials and music videos.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“You don’t have to, but check him on the web, search for his wife and check her picture.”
“…”
“It isn’t the same one, is it?”
“Could I have been wrong all these years?”
“Looks like it.”
From Guest Contributor Hervé Suys
Hervé Suys (°1968 – Ronse, Belgium) started writing short stories whilst recovering from a sports injury and he hasn’t stopped since. Generally he writes them hatless and barefooted.
Jan
Before The Words, There Were Echoes
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
There was silence in the universe. Words were nowhere to be found, as if all existence had stopped and all that was left was a void of utter disbelief and confusion. How can there be something, and yet it means nothing?
She had many words inside her, words that boiled into nothingness and brought about the vapor of insignificance. She remembered “in the beginning was the Word,” but instead of feeling any sense of security, she lost heart.
In that loss, she grasped the emptiness of whispers and asked the vast expanse:
“What is needed to be compassionate?”
“A soul.”
From Guest Contributor Aida Bode
Jan
Welcome To Chez Yesterday
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
We step into the past, warm and bright, light up a Lucky and slip into the booth by the window with its posh leather seats, its black and white glossies on the walls: Sinatra, Sammy, Bogey and Bacall. We say, Let’s have the T-bone rare, please, the baked potato, loaded, and that wonderful Caesar salad tossed tableside. While outside, mayhem on the march. Throngs chanting, flags unfurled in a cold rain, and darkness soon to settle in. While we sit, sipping Manhattans, cozy in our denial, where dinner will soon be served, and there’s Sinatra piped in, singing “My Way.”
From Guest Contributor Linda Lowe
Linda’s stories and poems have appeared in Beatnik Cowboy, BOMBFIRE, Misfit Magazine, Outlook Springs, and others.
Jan
True Meaning
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
As a boy, I remember my dad telling me Christmas is about family and spending time together. Secondary, exchanging gifts.
My own children are opening their presents and their beaming faces light up the room. The Christmas tree is sparkling with silver tinsel and an angel at the top of the tree, its wings white and glowing. Decorations and food consume the house this time of year, the baked ziti’s sauce filling the air with a delicious aroma. But these delightful things are not what my children celebrate.
The birth of Jesus Christ is the reason we celebrate the holiday.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher