December, 2024 Archives
Dec
Sand In My Shoes
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Time is an abstract concept. Yet the seconds, minutes, and hours are woven into the very fabric of existence just as surely as the matter around us. The matter inside us, for that matter.
Forgive me the pun. It may be the last one I have time for.
Understanding time is an integral part of the universe doesn’t make it any more concrete. Time depends on where the observer is located.
My days as a young man passed by so quickly. Now, I look down and there’s nothing but sand in my shoes. One breath of wind, and I’m gone.
Dec
July 25th
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
What a disgusting way to look at someone. Like you can not, so you do not. So what are you DOING looking at me if you can not? I can see it not happening for you.
Your reality will not let it happen, so you don’t acknowledge
what is reflecting in your eyes
go back to what is yours
go back to what is in front of you
let me slide into the background
I am nothing
to you now
I am nothing
I am the crowd
this strange nothing breathing nothing
I am nothing
nothing
don’t smile
don’t
no
From Guest Contributor Nick LaSorella
Dec
Squabble
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Up from clamor of Thanksgiving dinner, two voices drowned out the rest. Uncle Frank (Mom’s brother) and Uncle Norm (Dad’s brother), were at first pointedly not talking towards each other as they contradicted everything the other said. Then it was raised voices, direct, insistent, until they were shouting over everyone, ignoring their wives’ pleas.
Then the fighting really began, first with silverware, then a carving knife versus a brass candlestick, then gunfire and light artillery. By this time, the two halves of the family had divided.
There would be no more Thanksgiving dinners until after the war was long over.
Dec
Teases
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Sam is lying languid on yellow sheets. James will be home tomorrow which leaves little time for new lovers.
Sam reaches up and receives the glass and sips, as I drink from the bottle and look at scars on a wrist, tattoo marked and bled, bracelet often mislaid.
Bob Marley doesn’t give a shit, while Sam Cooke looks dispirited at what yet will come. Joplin cries wild abandon from vinyl well-worn and well earned.
And James will return and for now Sam is here and I am here and the bottle is half full and Sam teases with a fingertip…
From Guest Contributor Michael Tyler
Michael writes from a shack overlooking the ocean just south of the edge of the world. He has been published in several literary magazines and plans a short story collection sometime before the Andromeda Galaxy collides with ours and…