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
Mar
The Rose
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
That vibrant scarlet striking against the snow like a bell ringer striking a bell, reverberating through your body, taking up your entire being. She entices me with her beauty, but her thorns tell me not to touch. The wind sings and she dances with grace. Her perfume is like the smell of the green earth that reminds you you’re alive. I love her beauty, I love her fragrance, I love her grace. I would like to take her to my wife. If she could see this rose the way I see it, then she’d understand the way I see her.
From Guest Contributor Kyla Syner
Mar
Capricorn
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The stubbornness with which the constellations cling to the sky is the stuff of religion. Whatever your beliefs, that kind of tenacity can’t fail to inspire the fickle and the insane.
Molly had never thought of herself as a sheep, but how could she explain why she followed him into that abyss? Was it his persistence? His loyalty? The sensitivity he allowed only her to see. Or just a refusal to read the signs even as they became more apparent?
The lawyers who decided a restraining order would be protection enough better hope hell is less real than the Zodiac.
Mar
Death Is The Last Frontier In The Simulator
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
To be stuck in a simulator of the gateway project is weird, to say the least. How do I know I am not alive? I watch as people die and come back to life. Meaning? Bob Barker. I assure you he died several times. MeatLoaf in 2014 wrecked his car, killing him only for him to die again elsewhere. Maybe death is not what one would expect.
Maybe consciousness continues until it meets an ending in some sort of programmed book outcome. The book of Enoch might be truth. We all live until our own personalized ending of hell fire.
From Guest Contributor Clinton Siegle