September, 2022 Archives
Sep
Trap
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Rachel pulled her hat covering her face and walked. Curfew was about to begin, and the gestapo would be patrolling. She had an important piece of information tucked inside her left shoe and she had to get back to the safe house.
Rachel heard footsteps and a chill ran down her spine. They became quicker and then it went dark. A hand touched her shoulder, and she was about to run, when a man’s voice said her code name, Vivian.
“It’s too dangerous to go back to the safe house. Quickly, come.”
Soon Rachel would realize it was a trap.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Sep
Written Florida
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The hospital counter balanced the consequences of Chloe’s belief in radiological.
“Poise Samuel. It’s dosage and daydreaming. Don’t slam this shut, there’s no ambush in it.”
Samuel’s reptilian wheelchair spontaneously defended his ego with a damp pelvis moan.
“You need to explore your obsession with maintaining haste.”
And then Chloe was behind him, creating an exit.
Outside the gravity of habit drew dated windows and naked brick into Samuel’s response.
“Chloe, you are the answer to a whistle.”
Her blouse threw out naked holes of laughter until the urban inside her tongue finished the joke.
“But you have no teeth.”
From Guest Contributor Geoffrey Miller
Sep
August Drops
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
It’s not fall yet. It’s still light ‘til eight and the kids want to stay out past that on the trampoline that squeaks now with every bounce, its round net keeping out the cucumber-loving mosquitoes, the raspberry-loving bees, the cool night-loving spiders. The sky goes sherbet and then gray and raindrops fall but stop just before you get them to come in and then the sky is bright on one side, and the baby is jumping and pointing: light! (spin) dark! (spin) light! (spin) pink! And it’s time to do pajamas and kitchen and bills but you don’t.
You jump.
From Guest Contributor Brook Bhagat
Brook is the author of Only Flying, a Pushcart-nominated collection of surreal poetry and flash fiction on paradox, rebellion, transformation, and enlightenment from Unsolicited Press. Her work has won contests at Loud Coffee Press and A Story in 100 Words, and it has appeared in Monkeybicycle, Empty Mirror, Soundings East, The Alien Buddha Goes Pop, Anthem: A Tribute to Leonard Cohen, and other journals and anthologies. She is a founding editor of Blue Planet Journal and a professor of creative writing. Read her work and learn more about Only Flying at https://brook-bhagat.com/.
Sep
Journey’s End
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
My duty to the Dispossessed is finally done.
I carried and cared for the few thousand survivors in their cryotubes, as we fled the 200 light years from Earth. Their life signs, my only companions, became dear to me. Now, after T-centuries of terraforming, K2-72e is habitable. I call it Hope.
But responsibility remains. If Hope falls to hubris, or misjudgement, or pollution, then the work will have been for nothing; my friends and their children will die.
The risk is too great. I will let them sleep safely on, watching over them, and keeping this garden in their memory.
From Guest Contributor Alastair Millar
Alastair is an archaeologist by training, a translator by trade, and a nerd by nature. His published flash and micro fiction can be found at https://linktr.ee//alastairmillar and he lurks on Twitter @skriptorium.
Sep
The Flight
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
He wouldn’t let me go. He simply wouldn’t let me go.
First he took my money and wouldn’t give it back. Then he threatened to call the police on me! For what? For creating a scene in public? It was I who should have called the police on him for stealing my money!
The train has stopped. Passengers get off. Passengers get on. He shoves me into the car. The doors shut.
I get off at the next station. Standing penniless on the street outside, I see a colossal cocktail glass filled with blue wine sitting high atop a skyscraper.
From Guest Contributor Richard Evanoff
Sep
The Little Things
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Tiny micro explosions, one after another, lit up the night sky in a cascading array of magentas, periwinkles and mulberry, accented by warm yellows and golds, a momentary distraction utilizing everything that is beautiful living inside the fire. Even the soulless ones, with clouded empty eyes, were taken aback as their heads tilted towards the heavens unblinkingly.
The degradation of pathways in their once human brains would soon enjoy their form of pyro techniques as neurons started firing once more. Reminding them that we were now their food source while simultaneously forgetting that once we would call each other family.
From Guest Contributor J. Iner Souster
Sep
Adrian’s Jog
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Adrian jogged in the park, the autumn breeze against his face. He nodded his good morning to fellow joggers as he enjoyed the chirping birds.
When he finished his laps, he stopped at the breakfast truck and bought his usual cup of black coffee.
The owner handed Adrian his change. “Crisp morning.”
Adrian sipped his coffee before responding. “Yeah, sure is.”
He said goodbye and took a seat on the bench.
The park began to fill with dog owners taking their pets for morning walks and the cool air warmed.
Adrian relaxed and closed his eyes.
It began to rain.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Sep
Soup’s On!
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“Any luck, Paleo?” Keto asked his fellow cannibal as he approached the giant cauldron he was stirring.
“Nothing,” Paleo said. “Zero, zip, zilch, nada. No airplane crashes. No lost safaris. Not a single soul out there for dinner.”
“Well then, it’s soup again.”
“Ah, man! I need to sink my choppers into some nice juicy ribs or breasts, or wings or… Hey! Where’d you get that?”
Paleo froze, his mouth watering, as Keto dropped portions of two human legs into the pot.
“Let me have some of that meat!” Paleo yelled.
“Sorry,” Keto said. “I only have thighs for stew.”
From Guest Contributor Lee Hammerschmidt
Lee Hammerschmidt is a Visual Artist/Writer/Troubadour. He is the author of the short story collections, A Hole Of My Own, It’s Noir O’clock Somewhere and For Richer or Noirer. Check out his hit parade on YouTube!
Sep
The President Who Never Lied
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“If you’re innocent, why are you taking the Fifth Amendment?” asked the President who never lied to whip his followers into a frenzy. His true believers cheered.
“The mob takes the Fifth,” said the President who never lied. His true believers hooped and hollered.
“The Fifth. Horrible! Horrible!” insisted the President who never lied. His true believers waved flags of his graven image.
Then when he was deposed.
“Why did you overvalue your assets to secure loans and undervalue your assets to evade taxes?” he was asked for hours by New York state attorneys.
He took the Fifth 440 times.
From Guest Contributor Todd Matson