‘100 Words’ Category Archives


Foot Steps

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Becky was halfway across her pottery studio when she heard the deadbolt click. She froze.

She escaped a mugging three months ago, but it cost a prize dish. She broke the pottery piece on his face. Blood gushed everywhere and his screams still haunt her at night. Hours flipping through mug shots at the police station yielded no suspects. That was it. Except she had this eerie feeling she was being followed. A lot. She had been more than careful until now. She didn’t lock the door when she entered the studio. The sound of footsteps came in her direction.

From Guest Contributor NT Franklin


The Raven And The Crow

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The raven saw the crow perched on the church spire in the middle of town and demanded he make himself scarce.

“I’m the king of the birds and I deserve the best roost.”

The crow scoffed. “I don’t think so.”

The raven puffed up his feathers and flapped his wings threateningly, but the crow was unimpressed. As they were almost exactly the same size, it was unclear who would win in a fight.

“You’re a crow, no different than me. Just because one time a woman mistook you for a raven doesn’t mean you’re better than the rest of us.”


Spy Culture

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Just before dawn, the train barreled across the border. My carryall bag on the overhead rack contained an entire set of ant-dreams preserved in amber. Spies lurked everywhere, but, after the train pulled in, I evaded them by frequently changing my facial expressions. Later that day, I traveled by sampan and pedicab to meet my contact, an experienced agent posing as an English nanny. We met in a neighborhood playground beside a tree whose round fruit the children pretended were bombs. At one point I forgot the word “cremated” and had to ask her, “What’s it called – incinerating the body?”

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie is the author of The Titanic Sails at Dawn (Alien Buddha Press, 2019).


The Perils Of The New York City Subway

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

As a child, Jaime loved the subway. No car seats. Strange people. Traveling underground in a long tunnel. She couldn’t wait to be old enough to ride into the city on her own.

She remembered how fucking innocent she used to be. Now she hates the subway. Especially the strange people.

Today for instance. The only available seat’s in the corner. Right next to the cocoon. It’s been growing for weeks. It used to be a rider, but now he’s pupating on the D Train.

Jaime sits. It’s not the grossest thing she’s witnessed on the New York City subway.



by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Brandon surveyed the sea of grass standing before him. The wind, which shook the trees and rained leaves down from above, was swallowed up in the green swathe so that the air at ground level was nearly silent.

When he left home, this had been an empty plain of course dirt and stone. Summer storms eroded the land, winter froze what remained, and travel across was rough but manageable.

Now the surface was alive and Brandon was scared. But he was also determined to return to his birthright.

He took only a few steps before he drowned in the vegetation.



by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The crowd echoes in the distance. My feet are in position, and my hands above my head. Mozart plays as I gracefully glide across the ice. The judges eyes weigh on me as I prepare for my triple axel.

I take a deep breath and jump mid-air, landing perfectly on my left foot. The crowd roars.

I did my best, but there’s still more skaters ahead.

I wave to the crowd and pick up the freshly bloomed roses. As I make my exit, my skate lace becomes loose, and I trip, hitting my head against the wall.

The roses fall.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher


Cannibal Snacks

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The only store open at that hour was out of the first-aid cream I needed. Security cameras recorded what happened next. I ran amok in the chips and candy aisle, as if a slave to junk food. It was scary how much I could pack in. By the time the cops showed up, I was outside again and a cat had become just a red smear in the road. Someone recently asked me how I would describe red to a blind person. I shrugged. No one wants your honest opinion, ever. They may say they do, but they really don’t.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie Good is the author of The Titanic Sails at Dawn (Alien Buddha Press, 2019)


Preparing For The Afterlife

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Sally spent most of her days cleaning. She polished and buffed and wiped her way through every room in the house, until it was time to start all over again. The dwelling wasn’t that cluttered either. She was just extremely thorough in her routine.

Matt, her husband, had argued they should hire a cleaning service, but Sally believed it was her responsibility. He eventually gave up and left her to it. It seemed to make her happy.

Sally took more care with her possessions than she did with herself. Perhaps because she knew they would someday be all that remained.


Kingly Pursuits

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Every spring, King Tolliver traveled with his retinue to the ruins. None of the official historians had an explanation of what city once stood here, all of the stories offered contradicting explanations of the calamity that brought the civilization to decrepitude.

The official justification for King Tolliver’s annual sojourn was his desire to reflect on the folly of excessive hubris. This was deemed a kingly pursuit. But the truth of the matter was much more prosaic.

Tolliver’s son enjoyed scrambling over the rocks looking for cracked ceramics and the occasional colored glass. More importantly, the king shared the prince’s enthusiasm.


His Girl

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

He returned to their place, behind a shrub. Where they as teenagers
watched practitioners exit a church. Where he kissed away her tears
after her father walked out, showering affection on a stranger.

She, the girl he played tag with in childhood. The one he dated
through high school. The one he wrote to after he moved out of the
city, and her letters stopped abruptly.

He watched between raindrops clinging to leafless branches. She exited
the church on the arm of another man. Wedding procession followed.

Rainstorm may have passed, but the storm in his mind had only intensified.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna is a writer of poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. She
resides in Edmonton, Canada with her husband and stuffed animals and
many friends.