Jun
Driver’s Ed
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
If you slow down for a yellow light, the cops will write you a ticket. Of course, if you blow through the light, they’ll write you a ticket for that, too. Half the drivers resist but soon give up, half try to hide. I didn’t believe my friends when they first told me. Then people started collapsing due to the stress of the situation. I’d seen rockets explode on liftoff, coyotes violate dogs. Yet I didn’t expect this at all. Our lives are just daydreams in a dead landscape. It’s now a crime in Utah to harass cattle with drones.
From Guest Contributor Howie Good
Howie is on the pavement, thinking about the government.
Jun
Dreaming Of Mitch
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I’m wearing my navy blue, long sleeve shirt that says, “Nevertheless She Persisted,” just like the one I have in real life. I’m standing on the shoulder of a mighty highway, with my thumb out! Me, looking to hitch a ride to Washington DC! Was Mitch even there? Was Congress still in session? What about security? That’s the trouble with dreams. They’re stingy with details. I’ll leave them to my ride, who’s shown up driving an eighteen-wheeler. He’s honking and honking that bazooka kind of horn. It’s saying hurry up. It’s saying you’ve got work to do, girl. Get in.
From Guest Contributor Linda Lowe
May
In That Moment
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Chuck entered the car in a hurry and drove off, tires screeching. His wife, Hallie, was in surgery and he promised to be there when she awakened. He sipped his Starbucks coffee and wondered when the traffic would let up, cursing and punching the steering wheel.
After an hour, the cars started moving and Chuck sped up determined to make it on time, when his cell rang. He turned and grabbed the phone. In that one moment his eyes were off the road, he swerved and crashed into a guardrail.
Chuck would be at the hospital, but not for Hallie.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
May
Perspectives
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
In the past, they described Michael as an “introvert” and “sensitive.” They said he was “different, but he’s harmless.” “He’s a good kid, just a little shy.”
Today, they said he’s a “loner” and is “withdrawn.” “I knew something was wrong with that kid. “He had no friends at school and never seemed to want any friends. He sat and ate alone in the cafeteria.” “Sometimes other kids teased and made fun of Michael.”
The headline read: Michael Stocktan, age 19, entered Morris High School with his dad’s handgun and shot 19 students and a teacher. Three are critically wounded.
From Guest Contributor David W. Cofer
May
What You Don’t See
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Piano sounds drift muffled through the walls. I inhabit a dark little corner. Like every other space I’ve inhabited, it’s become utterly cluttered. My work involves a lot of sharp edges and loose ends. Sometimes cheating is required. That explains being strict about wearing a mask. I travel to many different places looking for roses: handmade, bought, fake, and real. The ones hanging over my head have recently been cured. I like having my history nearby. But what you don’t see is just as important as what you do see – for example, that the tree outside the window is dead.
From Guest Contributor Howie Good
Howie’s latest collections are The Titanic Sails at Dawn from Alien Buddha Press and What It Is and How to Use It from Grey Book Press.
May
Tomorrow I Won’t
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I walk by your bar. Not that I care if you are there, but because it’s on my way home. At least, that’s what I tell myself.
I could ask you. Ask if you found someone else, ask if you are just too busy for me, ask if you ever really cared. But asking means you would tell me. Maybe I don’t really want to know. Tomorrow I’ll go a different way home. Tomorrow I won’t walk by your bar. Tomorrow I won’t look at my phone, longing for a message from you. At least, that’s what I tell myself.
From Guest Contributor Tyler Ashton
May
The Final Letter
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Thelma raced to the door when she heard the clang of the mailbox. She looked forward to the mail. It gave her hope on these bleak days. Only one envelope today. It was from PFC Herman Davis, dated July 14, 1944.
She ran back in the house, her hands shaking. The screen door bounced closed behind her. “Jesse, Jesse,” she called for her husband. It was too soon. She just buried Freeman last week.
“What’s wrong,” Jesse asked.
“Here, here,” she said handing him the envelope.
Jesse instantly knew what it was. This was Freeman’s last letter before he died.
From Guest Contributor David W. Cofer
May
A Normal Day
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Bree walked up the subway steps into the abundant sunshine. It was a beautiful fall day, and the streets were filled with pedestrians hurrying to work. Cars honked and buses came to a halt at their designated stops. It was a normal day in the city of Manhattan.
Bree stopped for a bagel and tea at the cart in front of her building. The owner greeted her good morning and handed her the lightly buttered bagel and tea, sweetened with Equal and skim milk. After paying, she turned.
The rumble under her feet would be a moment she’d never forget.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
May
Junk
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
There’s so much still to suffer that even tediously waiting for a train that’s hours late would be a grateful interruption. People are digging in the burning soil with bare hands. My wife’s there. My mother, too. I was going to join them, but now I can’t. It’s as if I’ve become, without my consent, a junk collector. Strange items keep appearing outside the door: a pamphlet, “Human Beings against Music”; rusted bedsprings; a bundle of pencils with broken points; feathers from random birds. Someday, I suppose, children will ask me, “What was it like, the end of the owls?”
From Guest Contributor Howie Good
May
The Landing
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Andy hears a strange hum. He walks up the hill. At the bottom he sees a flying saucer spinning.
The saucer shows signs of corrosion, dents and dings dot the worn skin. Dirt and grime blemish its surface.
Andy thinks the damaged craft is landing. Too his surprise the vehicle starts spinning faster and gains altitude. In seconds the ship is above him, then gone.
Andy didn’t know they landed three years ago. Moments before Andy arrives the saucer had emerged from the ground. After spending all that time under the earths’ crust exploring and meeting the inhabitants they leave.
From Guest Contributor Denny E. Marshall