December, 2024 Archives
Dec
Wiser Now
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
As I listen to him lecture in the big hall surrounded by white boards full of equations, I know I can only swallow small sips from the fire hose of knowledge that flows from his mind and mouth, flooding the audience with his insight until it streams from their eyes, light filling the room and bouncing off the windows; and I must turn my mind from his most recent threat to divorce me to how it all started: a campus lawn, a daisy, the Quantum Uncertainty of petals on the subject of love─ he loves me, he loves me not.
From Guest Contributor Cheryl Snell
Dec
The Twilight Palace
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Sydney looked at the atlas. There was no denying he was lost, to the point where he couldn’t even be sure he was using the right map anymore. His phone had lost service hours ago.
A flash of reflected light caught his attention up ahead: some sort of structure spotted through the trees. He hurried forward hoping they’d have good WiFi.
As Sydney entered the clearing, a massive palace stood before him, with intricately carved roofs, marble fountains, and gold latticework. A white-robed fellow standing in the entrance smiled in his direction.
This looked nothing like the photos on Airbnb.
Dec
Next For Mel
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“Choose.”
“What?” Mel was confused. It was 3 AM. Just moments before, he’d been pleasantly dreaming.
“You don’t know what ‘choose’ means?”
“Huh?”
“CHOOSE, MEL!”
The irritated voice seemed to come from every direction, as though from out of a whirlwind.
“AND MAKE IT SOMETHING INANIMATE.”
This was it.
“TIME’S UP.”
Mel’s life – if it could be called that – was over.
The angel had others to visit that Thursday and more important places to go.
“Couldn’t I be a dog, or a goldfish?”
“REINCARNATION’S MAINLY INTO LIFELESS OBJECTS, MEL.”
People don’t realize.
“Like…into an old basketball?”
“SO BE IT!”
From Guest Contributor David Sydney
Dec
Home For Christmas
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I finished arranging the last of the ornaments on the Christmas tree. I pressed the switch and the bright red, green and blue lights lit the room, and the star topper sparkled.
The manger was arranged with Mary and Joseph beside the baby Jesus and the wise men holding their gifts.
My children were getting the milk and cookies ready for Santa Claus before going to bed and awakening to presents and my laughter, even though Hal wasn’t home.
I sat on the large sofa and sipped my hot cocoa when the doorbell rang.
My Hal, home from the war.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Dec
Movie Star
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Sunglasses don’t make the movie star, but any screen icon worthy of the name looks damn good in them. Rutherford Love knew this for a fact and was no exception.
He glided through the airport hidden from prying eyes. All the ordinary people passed by never realizing how close to greatness they were, stroked by the soft brush of fame. As long as the polycarbonate lenses covered his piercing blue eyes, he could travel completely incognito.
He didn’t understand the physics behind their power, but there was no denying he was completely invisible.
“Mr. Love, can I get a selfie?”
Dec
No Paradise
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
We left our gear on the shore and braved the jungle. Verdant, mossy plants, swollen fruits, normal snakes and spiders. All expected. But that smell. Like sulfur. Why? As earth and rocks piled up it permeated everything. It coated our hair and settled into the weave of our clothes. Warnings went unheeded. When we summited, it was too late. The crag gave way to a cavernous cleft. It glared a stony glare. Then the ground shuttered. Then it trembled. In those final fleeing moments, choked in smoke, death raining down, we understood the island’s ancient name: The Great Giant’s Buttocks.
From Guest Contributor Nicholas De Marino
Dec
Sunday Morning
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Staying home sick from Church is the real blessing. The entire comics section all to myself. Mom leaves me hot chocolate with the hard marshmallows dissolving into pure sugar.
Sinking into the beanbag. Feet buried in the shag of the carpet, working knots with my toes. Sips of too hot chocolate that burn my tongue with sweetness
Calvin and Hobbes. Peanuts. The Far Side.
It’s a perfect Sunday morning.
I don’t hear my older brother come home early. Before I know it, he has me buried under the beanbag, smothering me so I can’t breathe.
I hate my older brother.
Dec
Coffee?
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Coffee? I asked.
Totally, you replied.
When I offered an invitation, you always accepted. You never extended one yourself.
Was this friendship a one-way mirror, a one-way road, a one-note song?
Over several years, I pondered what it signified. If a friendship is only one-sided, is it a friendship at all?
I waited. I didn’t hear from you. Months.
Lunch? I asked.
Can’t wait, you answered.
More months later.
Dinner?
Tomorrow? Your text read.
Your company was always innocuous, comforting in a way. Reliably benign.
I never messaged you again. After nineteen years, that was the last time we spoke.
From Guest Contributor Justene Musin
Dec
I Alone
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Jim, Clark, Alex, and myself lined up before the principal like toy soldiers. We’d grumbled the whole way here, lamenting Grace Johnson’s unforgivable sin of tattling. I could tell for the others the complaints masked an underlying horror of what punishments might await. They’d never been in real trouble and us regulars liked to tell stories to bolster our bonafides.
Dr. Wilson lectured us for a few minutes before demanding a confession and apology. I don’t know what bravado took hold of me, but I stepped forward.
“I alone threw mud at those girls.”
The others nearly cried in relief.
Dec
The Park
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Since the death of my father, I made it a habit to walk in his favorite park every Saturday, something we always did together. Sometimes we had a catch, until one day his hand slipped, and the ball landed in the lake with a splash, and people chortled and pointed. That’s when I knew his Parkinson’s was getting worse. Soon after, he was unable to do the things he loved, gardening being one of his fondest.
I stood by the lake and listened to the children playing when I saw something float by.
It was the ball from our catch.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher