‘100 Words’ Category Archives
Apr
You Are Fine As You Are
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
With your failures your fears your wrong body your clutter your stains your dirty mind and the night you can’t take back and what you shouldn’t have said out loud and what you should’ve said but couldn’t didn’t because you were afraid selfish angry shy and the thing they said that you can’t forget and maybe it is true and the wreck the ruins so much wasted time and you didn’t even call and the way you looked at her even though you knew even after even now and even with those horrible Crocs
you are fine as you are.
From Guest Contributor Brook Bhagat
Brook (she/her) is the author of Only Flying, a Pushcart-nominated collection of surreal poetry and flash fiction on paradox, rebellion, transformation, and enlightenment from Unsolicited Press. Her work has won or placed in the top two in contests at Loud Coffee Press, A Story in 100 Words, and most recently, the Pikes Peak Library District 2023 fiction contest. It has been published in Monkeybicycle, Empty Mirror, Soundings East, The Alien Buddha Goes Pop, Anthem: A Tribute to Leonard Cohen, and elsewhere. She is a founding editor of Blue Planet Journal and a professor of creative writing Read her work and learn more about Only Flying at https://brook-bhagat.com/.
Apr
Policy Of Truth
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
At age 16, Brenda promised she would only tell the truth. She had always detested lies, even little white ones, and felt sick when forced to feign compliments. Even worse, when she found out she’d been lied to after the fact, she especially hated being told it was out of a desire to save her feelings. Sounded more like an excuse to avoid a hard conversation.
Brenda found honesty liberating in many ways, including the shedding of former friendships. But the best part had to be how much she enjoyed justifying her innate cruelty by her commitment to total veracity.
Apr
Warmth
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Kathy’s headstone was weather beaten. I hadn’t been to the grave site in years and the memory of her death hit me all over again.
“Keith, he’s heading straight toward us!” Kathy screamed and then all went dark.
A drunk driver hit us head on. I was hospitalized for eight months in a coma and my wife died on impact. I was left to take care of our young son by myself.
I leaned close and placed the red roses next to her name on the stone. “I miss you, Kathy.”
A sudden warmth ran up and down my spine.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Apr
The Boat
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Queenie was a friend of mine. I went to visit one weekend. Her husband was there but I didn’t get to see him much because he was “busy working on the boat.”
He was working in the garden. I went out to say hello but he was silent and went on with the work.
We had a meal, just the two of us. Queenie was used to dining alone.
When we heard that the boat had sunk on its first voyage, there was a certain amount of hilarity. He had escaped with his life. The devil looks after his own.
From Guest Contributor Derek McMillan
Derek is the writer of “Murder from Beyond the Grave” available on eBay.
Mar
The Bed One Lies In
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Brother declared himself ‘nonconformist,’ deciding back in grade school that rules and rituals mattered not.
Many blamed him in situations for his lack of respect. He claimed he simply had no interest.
The breaking point was the forging of Dad’s signature on a cheque. Mother decided on a punishment.
“You have to lie in the bed you made,” she grunted.
“I never make my bed,” he grinned.
He broke the curfew, not returning on time. In the morning it was learned he crashed his motorcycle into a cement wall.
Mother stopped making his bed. No one slept in it again.
From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs
Krystyna writes mainly short fiction and poetry.
Mar
The Antiques Show
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“Excuse me, do you work here?”
“Yes, I do.”
“I would like some information.”
“How can I help you?”
“What are these?”
“Drumsticks.”
“I mean, why are these five times more expensive than new ones? This is a second-hand store, no?”
“Ah! That’s because Led Zeppelin’s Jon Bonham used these sticks while recording ‘Stairway to Heaven’.”
“If I understand correctly, this is actually a bargain…”
“I think so too.”
“Can you pack them for me?”
“Of course. But if you have a moment, I also have the guitar pick here somewhere Jimi Hendrix played with at Woodstock.”
“Do you really?”
From Guest Contributor Hervé Suys
Hervé (°1968 – Ronse, Belgium) started writing short stories whilst recovering from a sports injury and he hasn’t stopped since. Generally he writes them hatless and barefooted.
Mar
Learning To Lose
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
As a child, Pedro was taught that winning was all that mattered. Yet at the same time, his teachers insisted that when he lost, he must do so with dignity. This was a contradiction.
If winning was all important, his response to defeat was at best meaningless. In truth, conciliation towards failure must be evidence of his disregard for the first lesson.
As an adult, Pedro finally understands. After vanquishing his enemies in battle, hand-to-hand combat, or preemptive surrender, he finds it distasteful when opponents act sullenly towards their new master. Dignity is another word for capitulation to your betters.
Mar
Dirt Nap
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
When you say ‘dirt nap’ it’s supposed to be frightening, right? But who doesn’t love a nap? It’s not menacing enough as a threat. Maybe if you said ‘dirt bath’ or ‘death nap’ or something. Then it would have a lot more weight. I mean you went through all the trouble of getting a gun and putting on that mask, and you’re undercutting the effect when you mention nap.
Shit, you’ve shot me!
Well the last thing I’m going to be thinking about as I bleed out is a quiet nap in the dirt, and that doesn’t sound so bad…
Mar
Portmanteau
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
My parents named me Heaven, a combination of their names, Heather and Kevin. They said it meant I was the most special parts of both of them.
They got divorced when I was twelve, and split everything between them, including me. They never understood the irony.
One time a guy tried to pick me up in a bar by asking if my name was Heaven. When I told him yes, he was too surprised to tell me I was the answer to his prayers.
Lucky for him. His name was Mel, and that would have made for one lousy portmanteau.
Mar
The Choice
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
When the bombs exploded, I veered the plane sideways.
My men yelled we should vacate, but I had to make the destination point.
As the men jumped one by one until I was the only one left, shots hit the fuel tank, and I had no choice.
I said a prayer, left my station and vaulted out into the sky.
In the distance, I heard an explosion and flames filled the air.
I heaved a sigh of relief when I landed safely on solid ground, until footsteps approached, and guns were aimed at my chest.
I landed on enemy territory.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher