February, 2025 Archives
Feb
Time
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Hope is the eternal companion of time. Whatever amount we have, we always believe there’s more.
Shannon reflects on the time they’ve wasted. Angry for no good reason. Lost in mindless distraction. Drunk to the point of blacking out. That’s time literally given away for nothing.
Now that the end is upon them, she’s choking on the regrets. The bad choices, the meaninglessness. The moments of the past that were perfect and yet so brief and unappreciated.
But those moments were perfect because they were unreflected upon.
All you can do is focus on the hour that is upon you.
Feb
You Are The Method
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I met the man with the train face at a strawberry picking. Where you buy the basket, scatter into the field, pick as many as you like or as will fit. He moved in a straight line, boring ever farther ahead, picking with one hand, then the other, then engineering the basket forward along the ground. When I was beside him, I could feel his breath like steam; his eyes seemed to let out more light than they took in. Full basket, he passed it to his wife. Her face was a station. She handed him a new, empty basket.
From Guest Contributor Ken Poyner
Feb
Double Decker
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
My name’s Dan, but they call me Double Decker because one time I got in a fight and knocked out two guys with one punch. That was the last scuffle I was involved in because ever since, people mostly try to avoid making me angry. There was that one time a drunk guy pulled a knife on me, but the bouncers pulled him away before anything happened.
I’ll tell you a secret. That double knockout thing never really happened. I just started telling the story one night and people believe it because I’m 6′-6”. Pretty funny, huh?
What’s your name?
Feb
Reunion
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I was only seventeen when I gave my baby girl away to a loving family. My parents were by my side as my heart ached and I cried to sleep every night.
Happily married with two grown sons, my thoughts still frequented that sweet red-faced baby I left behind.
I felt my heart palpitate and my hands tremble, but my boys told me not to worry.
Molly had doubts but agreed to come.
The doorbell rings.
I straightened my clothes and took a deep breath.
On the other side of the door was my daughter waiting to meet her mother.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Feb
The Ascent
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The door heaves open. Light floods me while darkness retreats inside me. The guards shove me outside my cell. On the stairs, my heart beats like a war drum. One step. Two. Many more. While my chains gently clink. At the summit, I look down and the people cheer. I see their mouths moving but I can’t hear a sound. All I hear is my panicked breath. As they take off my chains, the darkness escapes. I feel so light that I lose the ground under my feet. I smile, in the twenty-five meters that separate me from the abyss.
From Guest Contributor Davide Risso
Davide grew up in Italy, but his itchy feet led him to live in Ireland, Germany, the United States, and travel around the globe. Scientist by training, writer by passion, rock climber by vocation, his fiction has appeared in Flash Fiction Magazine, RumbleFish Press, Literary Yard, and Cranked Anvil among others.
Feb
Haunting Silence
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“If Sam took a hearing test today, she’d fail it in the left ear, probably both.” The doctor points to diagrams, talks about adenoids and semi-clear liquid the color and consistency of honey.
Since January, I’ve watched Samantha’s world get smaller. She laboriously mastered “DaDa” and nothing more.
The doctor and my wife talk about tubes and advances in the technology of tubes.
I’m haunted by an image I haven’t seen yet—Sam unconscious, on a white hospital sheet awaiting surgery. I see this when I check on her.
In her crib, the sheets are pink, stuffed animals all around.
From Guest Contributor Shane Borrowman
Feb
The March Waters
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The stillness of the air weighed heavily on the landscape. The lake, melted during the false summer, was paved over again.
Every kid in the neighborhood was under strict orders to stay off the ice. After the first melt happens, you can’t trust its solidity.
The best part about even the mildest of late winter storms is that school shuts down but parents still have to work. By 10AM all the boys, and a few of the girls, had started an epic hockey game.
That night, they all bristled at the injustice of their punishment. After all, they’d been right.
Feb
The Present
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“Are you okay, Ed?”
To relieve the pressure, Ed tugged on his undershirt collar. He and Mel were at the counter of AL’S DINER.
“My Aunt…”
“What?”
His words came haltingly.
“Aunt Edna…”
Each holiday, she gave the constricting presents.
Before Ed, they went to Uncle Fred. The poor man suffered from the waist down. After the holidays, he always had trouble with his privates.
Always Edna’s too-tight underwear.
“Your throat, Ed? Can you swallow the oatmeal?”
His jugulars stood out.
He twisted awkwardly on the swivel seat.
His throat?
His undershirt?
“It’s not the throat I’m worried about, Mel.”
From Guest Contributor David Sydney
Feb
Open Up Your Heart
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The door slammed shut so forcefully, Winston felt the reverberations from his bedroom.
It was better this way. Sarah would never be happy. She wanted someone to match her emotions at both ends. He just wasn’t built that way. “Don’t get too high or too low.” That was his motto.
There were probably another 20 minutes before daylight would start creaking through the blinds, but there was no point trying to fall back asleep. So he went to the kitchen and poured himself a bowl of cereal.
Winston wished the fight had started after breakfast. He missed Sarah’s pancakes already.
Feb
Proposal
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The EMT says everything will be okay while the ambulance siren blares in the background. I’m in and out of consciousness and not sure what has happened. The last thing I remember is getting into my car to drive to Ally’s house.
Every inch of my body hurts, I’m tired and so cold. I can’t move because I’m strapped to a gurney. I wish the pain would go away.
Someone with a deep voice speaks to me. “Stay with me, man, don’t go.”
Where would I be going? I can’t move.
I remember. I was going to propose to Ally.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher