May
Monty Rediscovers Home
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Six-year-old Monty, a master of his plastic sword, calculates strikes against imaginary giants while he takes cover behind backyard trees. When his mother’s voice pierces through his fantasy, calling him for dinner, the warrior boy marches home victorious.
Forty-year-old Monty daydreams of being a fearless commander defending his country against terrorists and, at night, dreams of being a superhero saving his city from crime and corruption.
While cleaning out his garage, Monty finds his plastic sword and wields it again, destroying enemies with a battle cry whoop. The brave boy/man rediscovers his inner sanctuary to face his lackluster world.
From Guest Contributor Leigh-Anne Burley
May
Sledgehammer
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Bill had never been so in love. Kristen was to a woman like a sledgehammer is to a hammer. He was grateful that she felt the same way.
He proposed after six months of dating. She said yes. Everyone that knew them said after the first time seeing them together that they were perfect for each other.
They decided to write their own vows. Kristin told a story about telling her grandmother right before she died she’d just met the man she was going to marry. Bill told the sledgehammer analogy.
That’s when she realized they were making a mistake.
May
Alive
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Guns roared and bullets skyrocketed past my head. I ducked and took deep breaths. The man next to me bled out. There wasn’t anything I could do.
“Retreat,” the lieutenant yelled.
Retreat where, I wondered? I reloaded my weapon and aimed at anything coming toward me.
It was chaotic. Men screaming, bodies strewn everywhere. If I got out alive it would be a miracle.
Something hit me from behind. I looked and my stomach bled deep red. I crumpled to the ground, then everything went black.
When I awakened, I was on a stretcher in a helicopter.
I made it.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
May
Belly/Belie
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I remember the push of the needle through my flesh, a burst of pain, the reddened swelling, and then the bruise, spreading like a distorted coneflower from my stomach.
“Sexy,” he mutters later. He pushes my sweater higher up around my breasts, leaning in to kiss the tender flesh around the belly ring. I look up at the ceiling tiles. I close my eyes, and I imagine this ring is a portal. I crawl through the small metal circle, into the deep hull of this ship–a stowaway, hidden from view. I smile. It works. He doesn’t even notice I’m gone.
From Guest Contributor Helen Raica-Klotz
Apr
Oh Baby
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
He’s seeking to please, down on his knees, when everything freezes.
He’s holding his breath, scared half to death, then everything stops.
She’s the love of his life, one day his wife, when everything freezes, his heart starts and drops.
There’s not enough time, it’s all a true crime. Some kind of conspiracy, no true north polarity.
His thoughts have a meter, his words want to rhyme. His raison d’etre stutters sublime.
Now it’s all over, she’s lost in the past. A mysterious end that happened too fast.
It just goes to show: nothing truly matters, when nothing ever lasts.
Apr
Once In A Lifetime
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
It was a once-in-a-221-year-event, the simultaneous emergence of two different cicada broods. One was the 13-year group. The other, the 17-year variety. So, as predicted, a trillion cicadas emerged, one-by-one, from the warming soil. Sam and Waldo were two such cicadas.
“Can you believe it?”
“What, Sam?”
“We’re In the southeastern United States.”
“What a racket.”
Cicadas make noise through a special organ, a tymbal.
“What?”
It was increasingly hard to hear.
“HEY, WALDO?”
“YEAH.”
“I NEVER THOUGHT I’D SAY IT.”
“WHAT?”
“I DON’T KNOW ABOUT YOU…BUT AFTER 221 YEARS, I THOUGHT IT’D BE A LOT BETTER THAN THIS.”
From Guest Contributor David Sydney
Apr
Sunday Morning
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
He remembers hating the formal dress of Sunday morning. Khakis and a button-down shirt felt so constrictive, especially compared to his Saturday uniform: shorts and a t-shirt. Even worse, no one ever gave him a satisfactory answer as to why they must dress so formally, when the Bible made very clear that God actually prefers the poor and the ragged over the richly attired.
It’s strange to miss something you don’t believe in, but there was a comfort in not having to make a decision.
Now every Sunday morning he spends much longer than he should selecting what to wear.
Apr
Snow
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The first thing I did last night was set the alarm for seven o’clock in the morning. I didn’t know the snow the weather forecaster predicted was going to start so early.
There was a message that my interview had been canceled so I got back under the covers and my dog Charlie snuggled next to me.
Large snowflakes pressed against the window and the wind howled. Charlie let out a growl and went back to sleep. I closed my eyes and wished the snow would stop.
When I awakened later that afternoon, the snow ceased, and the sun shined.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Apr
As Fast As You Can
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Grampa used to warn that if we weren’t fast coming home, wolves would eat us. I knew he must be joking, yet I still hurried to beat nightfall just in case.
Now that I’m a father myself, I understand he wasn’t joking. I mean, there weren’t literal wolves. We lived in the suburbs. But he knew the dangers that only come at night, the dangers of the heart. When you truly love someone, would sacrifice your own life to save theirs, you want them to hurry as fast as they can because you won’t have peace until they’re safely home.
Apr
What Made Me Cry…
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
It wasn’t your lifeless body accompanied by sympathy cards and my childhood stuffed animal, not your workplace name tag displayed in your shirt pocket, not the sermon praising your altruism, not the incense that uplifted our prayers, not as a pallbearer guiding you to your resting place.
It was the blasts of a three-volley salute followed by the silence of two soldiers that lifted the flag off your casket and with precision folded it into a perfect triangle, and my realization that if you didn’t survive war and didn’t start a family, I wouldn’t be standing here missing you, Dad.
From Guest Contributor Charles Gray