Posts Tagged ‘Adult’
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.
Dec
Losers
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
It was the last inning in an adult softball playoff game. We were behind by two runs. I had gotten a walk, which filled the bases. The next batter could tie or win the game. The manager replaced two of us with pinch runners, which caused our second and third outs for batting out of order. Many people thought that I was a good runner. Pinch runners were supposed to be used for the injured. I had objected to being subbed out, and this time it ensured our loss. I didn’t say it out loud, but I quit softball then.
From Guest Contributor Doug Hawley
Feb
First Meeting
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
At first glance it appears to be a normal home with a wraparound porch and swing.
The windows are open, and the curtains blow in the warm breeze. Still, I can’t seem to move. Now, I must wonder why I insisted on this meeting. My life is fine. I have a wife and two boys. I don’t need to meet my mother.
She abandoned me, yet I need answers. Even as an adult, I feel as if I’m a child not understanding.
I exit the car and walk to the front door, take a deep breath, and ring the doorbell.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Feb
Change
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
On the working class tube filled with out-of-work laborers, gangs and students, Reyva hugged her backpack on her lap and gazed at the ads above her head.
“Change your Life! Travel with Distant Horizons!”
She ditched her unfinished schoolwork and went.
At Distant Horizons, she lied about her age. She wasn’t afraid to make adult choices.
They strapped her to a table. Fear gripped her, but they stripped it away. Gave her a new body, a new purpose.
Within the storms of Thacyline, she rode the winds on golden wings and avoided looking towards Earth.
She could never go back.
From Guest Contributor Tyrean Martinson
Nov
Forgiveness
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
She walked along the deserted beach, cold wet sand hard underfoot, leaving her well-formed arch, her heavy heel dug-in tight, her human track. She scanned the choppy grey ocean, a seagull skimming along ready to dive. Looking ahead, an outcropping of massive black boulders stumbled together into a makeshift Henry Moore sculpture. The solid blocks of granite, columnar or reclining, soft-edged or angular, were reminiscent of her mother. The stoic strength, the impermeability, the dense solid weight of judgement. She had framed her adult life accordingly, with a negative imperative: I will not be like my mother.
From Guest Contributor Holiday Goldfarb
Jul
A Day, A Span
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
At dawn I am brought forth into this world, howling, crying. Mama, a girl hardly thirteen, swaddling my small frail body in a torn shawl. Oblivious that I am a load, or so I think.
At noon I walk briskly through dusty thorny paths nobody else walks through. A long march that brings only thirst. Fighting a war with no combatants. I am an assassin. I aim, I miss. I aim again, I hit.
By dusk I am an old man walking out of this world, soon. Mama, so long a spirit by now. Papa, a boy hardly an adult.
From Guest Contributor Troy Onyango