August, 2023 Archives
Aug
Biopsy Results In Ten Days
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I want these days to be about more than just waiting. How can they be? Waiting surrounds me, engulfs me, floods me…swirling, fast, faster than I can dog-paddle away… Things will never be the same again, even if, even if… Things will never be the same again, even if the white coats say all is well, even if what I’m awaiting turns out to be snip-snip-and-it’s-gone. I’ve caught a whiff that so permeated my nostrils my neural pathways my brain my heart, its remnants echo into the rest of whatever part of not-forever that I do get to see.
From Guest Contributor Cynthia Bernard
Aug
Repose
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The warmth of the spring sun filled my body with repose. I laid back and looked up at the sky. The blueness bright and cheery awakened my eyes to ebullience.
I let the small rowboat drift on its own while the sound of ducks quacked and flapped their wings bathing in the lake. Nature was all around me. Birds chirped, on the shore frogs hopped, crabs crawled on the sand, and tree leaves quietly blew in the slight breeze.
I closed my eyes and soaked it all in, storing every sound and image in my mind.
Tomorrow, I start anew.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Aug
New Neighbors
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Nobody’d said okay to the infamous moving in, but who should drive up but Bonnie and Clyde in their 1934 Ford, parking it in their 21st Century driveway? What were we to do with the notorious couple but invite them to our pot luck dinner, held alfresco every Wednesday evening? We were all enjoying delicious tiramisu when Charlene showed up late with her high-strung Doxie, yapping and nipping at Bonnie, who whipped out her .38 Special and shot, missing the dog by a mile, or maybe 238,00 of them. As just then, across the sky sailed half a bloody moon.
From Guest Contributor Linda Lowe
Aug
Crossroads
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
A skinny young guy, carrying a battered guitar case slung over his shoulder like a cotton picker’s sack, went down to the crossroads to catch a ride. The folks at home wouldn’t ever hear from him again. Rumors took the place of news – that he’d been shot and killed over a gambling debt, that he’d been lynched by a white mob, that he played guitar on the Chitlin’ Circuit with such violent energy that gravestones fell over and broke and that’s why now, every day around dawn, birds resume singing a centuries-old murder ballad specifically for our continued moral instruction.
From Guest Contributor Howie Good
Howie’s newest poetry collection, Heart-Shaped Hole, which also includes examples of his handmade collages, is available from Laughing Ronin Press.
Aug
Good Boy, Charlie
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Even the dog knew it was a mistake. So much had happened at the lake house, and yet, nothing ever changed. Her father stood at the end of the dock, slouching.
Charlie whined and wagged, as if to say, “Really? Again?!”
“Didn’t think you’d come,” he said.
“I just want her ashes. Then I’ll leave.”
He stared, eyes piercing, his face sharp.
“Your mother wanted to be here.”
“My mother wanted to be safe.”
Jayne released Charlie from his leash. He burst forward, sending her father off the dock.
“Good boy,” Jayne praised Charlie, wiping the water from her face.
From Guest Contributor Kate McGovern
Aug
Altered Realms Of Reality
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The adventure of a quantum man. I used to be much larger. I used to live on Sagittarius. Doubt me? I doubt myself these days.
There on some parallel realm, the US used Celsius and to have a temperature meant you were 100 C. Makes me wonder if fat suits are just avatars from someplace else stuck in a heated environment. To live for years at 73 constant without snow. Now to have snow and live at 1 C. Makes me question my sanity these days. Do I remember correctly or am I just caught up in some grand adventure?
From Guest Contributor Clinton Siegle
Aug
The Accountant
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Moana sat beside me to tell me all about her day. She tells me of how receipts are paid, how invoices are filled; the tedious swirl of records she manages and the way liabilities must be listed.
I listen to her speak, and the turkey on the table soon grows cold. Her eyes catch mine, and for a minute she hesitates.
“Don’t you dare stop,” I say before she could raise the question.
I have a Master’s in Accounting, and yet somehow I could listen to her speak about it all all over again, and still fall hopelessly in love.
From Guest Contributor Mahathi Sathish
Aug
Heater
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“Would you like another heater, Ralph?”
Madge, the waitress, offered to add some hot coffee to Ralph’s half-empty cup on the diner’s linoleum counter. Behind her, racked, were the assorted pies, the lemon meringue with only two slices left.
“I’ll take some.” Ralph half-smiled. “I guess that’s like you, Madge.”
“What’d you mean?
“You like your coffee hot, and your men hotter.”
Bracing herself on the counter, Madge stared at him. Would Al leave anything more than a 10% tip? What were the chances?
“I guess we’re a little different. You go for the lukewarm guys, don’t you, Al?”
From Guest Contributor David Sydney
Aug
The Same
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The birds flew by
as the wind blew past.
Cars come cruising, crossing coastlines.
They’re the same.
Birds fly free with the ocean breeze
and the cars follow along to their graceful flight.
They’re the same, together in the light.
One flies,
one drives.
They’re the same.
An endless road.
An infinite sky.
They’re the same.
It’s no race,
they’re at the same pace.
The road twists and the car does not slow.
The bird resists the wind and flies high.
They’re the same.
The road is black and yellow,
and the sky is blue and white.
They’re the same.
From Guest Contributor Daniel Duong
Aug
Gone Fishing
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The fish hook didn’t stir in the stillness of the water.
There’s a dark, ominous look in the sky. Not the sunny, warm weather the forecasters predicted.
The shore wasn’t far, so I stayed on course and waited. I wished I had something to drink. The air was humid, and my lips quenched water.
In the tiny row boat, I felt lonely, especially since no one else was on the lake and my only companions were the birds chirping in the trees.
A bolt of lightning filled the sky, followed by claps of thunder.
Then the downpour.
No fish today.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher