Feb
Rainbow Potato
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I tell myself I don’t belong here, and I don’t. The place is home to depressives, insomniacs, winos, recidivists. Trains pass through without whistling or slowing down. Meanwhile, stacks of coffins keep arriving in the dark by truck. The first thing I do most mornings is examine my face in the mirror for signs of fresh trauma. There was one morning when I asked Google if rainbow and potato rhyme. The answer came back, “Not exactly.” A handsome young drifter, stepping off the overnight bus from Providence, smiles plausibly while wearing a necklace of human ears tucked inside his shirt.
From Guest Contributor Howie Good
Howie’s latest book is Frowny Face, a mix of his prose poems and handmade collages from Redhawk Publications.
Feb
Ghosts
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
In front of the circus truck came a moving van and two old clunkers. People were finally moving into the house at the end of the cul-de-sac, which we’d all suspected was haunted. The circus truck double parked beside the moving van and out poured our old friends, the bearded lady and fortune teller, clutching his crystal ball, two sweet loveable clowns who rolled out smiling, somersaulting around the cul-de-sac. Soon our kids were busy taming the lions while the elephants practiced their counting and we gossiped about the new neighbors until one of them floated by and said hello.
From Guest Contributor Linda Lowe
Feb
Storm
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The snow and wind pelted my face. The inclemency hadn’t started until I was half-way to the subway station, and people slipped across the pavement rushing to get home. Vehicles honked at pedestrians cutting in and out of lanes, so I had to be careful. I tried not to think about the numbing in my fingers after forgetting my gloves at home.
After a half hour walk which should’ve taken ten minutes, I was in the station.
When the train arrived and I boarded, I knew it would be a matter of time before I’d be snug by the fireplace.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Feb
Miles Away
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Sophia stared out the window as Sebastian faded into the distance. She knew with a hard, scientific certainty that she would never see him again.
This was not some intuition. As her vehicle sped towards the distance, Sebastian floated in nearly the opposite direction, his back to her. By the time she returned, he would be lost forever, miles away.
She fumbled her radio, searching for the correct channel.
“Sebastian, can you hear me?”
“Yes, I’m here.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right. We all knew this was a possibility.”
Thus Sebastian Spellman became the first American astronaut lost in space.
Feb
Slab Of Butter
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
James had few true pleasures remaining in his life. Time, divorce, and the company had taken most everything. His doctor seemed intent on taking what remained.
“You’re going to have to cut out alcohol and fatty foods.”
James stared down at his bowl of greens. Across the table, George was cutting into his steak. Steven, keeping it light, had a baked potato topped with sour cream, chives, and bacon. They both drank from judicious glasses of red wine.
“Can you pass me that plate?”
Ignoring the stares from his friends, James smeared a large slab of butter onto his salad.
Feb
’13-Shot’ Frank
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The Old West had its deadly gunslingers like ‘Wild Bill’ Hickok, Wyatt Earp, and Doc Holliday. Then, there were poorer slingers like ’13-Shot’ Frank. Yes, Frank had lost 13 consecutive fights and had the bullets in him to prove it. Still, he limped on to his 31st birthday.
Doc Jenkins had pulled him through each time, unable to extract a single slug. He was called by Frank’s landlord to the bedside.
“Can you keep him alive for a couple more rent payments?”
Was this the end? Doc Jenkins could handle wounds and fractures. But chronic lead poisoning was another matter.
From Guest Contributor David Sydney
Feb
Are We All Bound In Hell?
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The quantum traveler reviewed history yet again.
Age of change?
Age of reality?
Watching the Mandela effects replace known history?
Or a mind swapped into a shifted realm?
For?
In Abe Lincoln’s election 1860 only 2 parties ran. Not 4.
Lincoln according to Hillary Clinton and myself was a senator.
The question really is does any of it matter?
Or is this all some sort of dream?
Science confirms we live in a simulator.
So a test is expected at the end of a simulated training run.
Is life the test or is hell just all there is to expect?
From Guest Contributor Clinton Siegle
Feb
Devastation
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Jack and Angela surveyed the scene with racing hearts. What they’d just witnessed was pure devastation, as insatiable leviathans sucked flesh from bone, leaving nothing but emptiness in their wake.
Jack and Angela felt lucky to have survived, as if one false step might have left them vulnerable to the same fate. Like a dog that bites the hand that feeds it, had they tried to intervene, they too might have been stripped to the bone.
“I guess I’ll start cleaning up,” said Jack. “I’ll wash if you dry.”
Angela followed into the kitchen, lamenting she’d ever agreed to IVF.
Feb
Interview
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
When I stepped out of the car, I took a deep breath and cleared my mind.
I hadn’t been interviewed in years and now older, I didn’t know what my chances were of getting hired. My friend recommended me to the department head, and I hoped that would get my foot in the door.
I had my briefcase in hand with an excellent portfolio and references. What more would they want?
I opened the door and entered the office only to be told by the receptionist that the manager had an emergency and I’d have to come back another day.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Feb
Beneath The Snow
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Winter arrived early. Sheep were herded off the pasture. Leaves gathered by Pa stood statuesque in domed heaps.
Grandpa didn’t look at them; reminded him of Quonset huts, the friends he lost in war. Our border collies stared and growled, sensing something amiss. I discovered why.
Furry heads with pink pointed snouts erupted like volcanoes from new, smaller mounds across the hushed terrain, spewing dirt from within.
Pa noticed? Doubt it. Rosie pulled him into town often.
With spring in a few months, planting season will bring him back to the fields.
He’ll learn all there’s to know about moles.
From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs