May
Abedabun
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Abedabun weaves baskets while her father makes arrowheads. The sun is warm against her face and she tires of the mundane ritual but does not complain when her father rubs a droplet of sweat from her cheek with affection.
Her mother is by the river collecting herbs, humming in tune with the birds, while her brother and sister collect insects for amusement.
Hiawatha, the finest young man in the tribe, approaches Abedabun and her father with a token of marriage, a deer slung over his broad shoulders.
She stops her work and looks to her father.
Hiawatha’s token is accepted.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
May
There’s Been A Murder
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Sunday, April 12
A murder has occurred at the Johnson’s mansion and Earl Johnson was found dead in the basement. The following are transcripts between the investigator and suspects.
Investigator:
“The murder took place around 8:30 p.m. last night. Where were you all during that time?”
Chef (Mr. Washington):
“I was cooking Mr. Johnson’s favorite meal; it was his birthday.”
Ms. Johnson:
“I was freshening up and putting on my dinner gown.”
Maid (Ms. Paddington):
“I was out getting the mail.”
Everyone stopped and looked at the maid with wide eyes.
Investigator:
“Ms. Paddington, the mail doesn’t run on Sundays.”
From Guest Contributor Daemion McKellar
May
The Pencil
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Spine broken. Pages deliver a scrambled story. I have the power to pick up the fragments. Rewrite. Write what others have tried to mute. Seventeen centimeters of lead might not be much, but I’m her voice. I’m sharp. I’m ready, but she turns away from me and picks up her glass of whisky instead.
We’re both small. Lead or crystal? One can save her. One can break her. Who will she choose?
Neither. She adds another plate to her dish-pile. It looks like the Tower of Babel, minus the words.
She turns. She’s getting closer. Closer. Picks me up and—writes.
From Guest Contributor Isabelle B.L
Isabelle is a teacher and translator currently living in New Caledonia. She has published a novel inspired by the life of a New Caledonian politician. Her work can be found in the Birth Lifespan Vol. 1 anthology for Pure Slush Books and Flash Fiction Magazine. Her work is also forthcoming in Growing Up Lifespan Vol. 2 for Pure Slush Books and Drunk Monkeys.
May
Three Claw Marks
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
In a flash, a furry bundle leaps silently onto the bar counter.
Before the sailor can cover his face, sharp claws tear skin from his cheek. The glass of bourbon falls from his hands, and its contents spill over the table.
“Don’t talk behind my back—”
The sailor turns and sees a tabby with a metal peg leg glaring at him in the tavern’s gloom.
“—if you want to live long in space!”
“Aye sir.” The sailor trembles like a child.
“Sayonara, baby.” The tabby lifts his tail and vanishes. Blood drips from three claw marks on the sailor’s cheek.
From Guest Contributor Umiyuri Katsuyama
Translated by Toshiya Kamei
Umiyuri Katsuyama is a Japanese writer of fantasy and horror. In 2011, she won the Japan Fantasy Novel Award with her novel Sazanami no kuni. Her latest novel, Chuushi, ayashii nabe to tabi wo suru, was published in 2018. Her short fiction has appeared in numerous horror anthologies in Japan.
May
A Deadly Metaphor
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Chester tosses rocks over the cliff, ruminating over whether to respond. Angelica expects tacit agreement with all her decisions, only consulting him on the timing and execution, never the overall direction. This makes sense as a way to run a boardroom, but not a marriage.
Even this vacation, celebrating their anniversary, was her concoction. Sure, the views are spectacular, but she knows he’s no fan of hiking. That’s most likely her secret reason for this destination. He tosses another pebble, watching it careen out of sight.
At the bottom of the gorge, three fresh bodies lay buried beneath Chester’s avalanche.
May
One Sentence, A Full Western
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Standing on the corner of the counter of The Silver Dollar Saloon, the only saloon in coal mine village Raccoon’s Crest, whilst drinking his third glass of some nice Kentucky Corn since the gunfight, the outlaw bragged to all those who wanted to hear about his latest so called heroic deed: “The man who will put down Furious Frank isn’t born yet” for the very last time, as if he sensed that at that exact moment the mother of the last man he would ever lay eyes upon, was going into labor to give birth to a now fatherless child.
From Guest Contributor Hervé Suys
Hervé Suys (°1968 – Ronse, Belgium) started writing whilst recovering from a sports injury. He writes his disturbing fiction generally barefooted and hatless.
May
Determination
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Through the stained-glass window, the heat of the sun beams on my face while mellifluous birds chirp in unison. I yearn to be outside on this spring day, listening to the sounds of nature, and children’s chortles, but my body lays limp.
Something is wrong. The hospital is bustling, and I hear shouting. “He is coding!” The doctor is giving orders and then I hear the sound of the defibrillator.
“Clear!” Thump. “Again.” “Clear!” Thump. “Again.” “Clear!” Thump.
The monitor steadies and the doctor sighs relief. “He has stabilized. This patient is determined.”
After my arduous episode, I rest soundly.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Apr
Watching Me
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Her eyes flashed with mischief in the warm street light. Green, full of longing, on a young fall night. Her hand merged with mine and then her breath drew short–and I felt nothing.
In a moment I saw myself in the third person, a cold drifting observer. Helplessly I looked, unaware of my own consciousness, merely seeing–there she was, running her hand down his face, soft voice muffled as through wool. Her fingers brushed across his cheek. She closed her eyes and leaned forward. Their lips moved together and apart, and the moment passed.
I had missed it.
From Guest Contributor Caleb Woodman
Caleb is an aspiring spiritual writer studying at Pikes Peak Community College.
Apr
The Tempest
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The trees about Raoul start to strain on their top masts and branches. Fog flees, a great wind comes, a storm too.
Raoul continues his walk, waiting, patient. Ever aware of the menace about him. The sky about him blackens. Cold winds herald the approaching storm before him, devouring and chasing back the once settled fog bank.
Mountains now appear in the distance. He eyes the storm dancing down their peaks, dragging the the veil of night with them and…the frozen tempest coming.
Over the drone of the wind, Raoul distinctly hears the Watcher in the Woods growl, ‘Raoul!’
From Guest Contributor Brett Dyer
Apr
Rassolnik
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“Minsk?” Her mouth was agape.
“You’re damn right Minsk! And maybe even the countryside while we’re at it!” His voice firm, eyes steady.
“But I want to go on vacation! What the hell is in Belarus? Why can’t we go to Vegas?” she was indignant.
“It’s quiet in Minsk…I think. It looks like we can have a nice, peaceful time for once. Also, I want to try Rassolnik” he trailed off a bit, looking away.
“What is Rassel-nek?” she shot back.
He hesitated before answering “It’s a soup they make there…it has pickles in it”.
“I hate you,” she said.
From Guest Contributor B. Frederick Foley
B. Frederick Foley is a poet, writer, and editor at www.militaryflashfiction.com. A former Navy Intelligence officer, he now spends his time living between Anchorage and Kasilof, Alaska with his wife and three children. His poetry and flash fiction have been published in several online literary journals.