Posts Tagged ‘Air’
May
Dreams In Green
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Standing here on this frigid night, I look out over a frozen landscape, and I can’t help but wonder why?. There is still hope. Maybe one day, this land will come back to life, the trees will grow, the water will flow, and the air will smell fresh and clean.
I can still feel the excitement coursing through me, the sense of wonder at seeing something so beautiful. The land of ice and snow holds a strange sort of magic.
But the land is not dead. It’s only sleeping, waiting for inspiration or something green to grow the days away.
From Guest Contributor J. Iner Souster
Apr
Papa
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I slip through alleys to get to the resistance and relay the information I have learned. The black out starts and the only sound is the rustling of my dress.
I hear footsteps and then a voice. “Halt! Papers.”
“Certainly. My father is sick and needed medicine. I had to go across town to the only doctor available.”
There’s something in his eyes that I don’t trust. I stab him through the gut. I’m almost in the clear and then a shot rings out. Blood soaks through my dress, I gasp for air and then collapse.
See you soon, Papa.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Apr
Strange Creatures
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
There is only one road from here to there, cutting through the hills of rolling greens with the occasional grove of trees breaking up the monotony. Soon, this too will be gone, in its place, parking lots and strip malls, housing offices that employ free thinkers selling ethically sourced products from other once beautiful patches of green.
As my electric car reaches the zenith of these rolling hills, I spot the strange creatures spinning hundreds of feet in the air.
We reminisce.
“Remember how beautiful that stretch of land was?”
“Where?”
“You know, that boring stretch between there and here.”
From Guest Contributor J. Iner Souster
Feb
My Setting Sun
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
We sit on the beach watching a summer sunset, foamy saltwater encroaching upon our bare toes. Distant mountains cut jagged lines in the sky. We’re laughing, your warm arm around my shoulders. I glow in your rare happiness, believing you’ll stay with me always.
I sense you withdrawing as the sun sinks behind the mountains, air chilling as the golden orb dwindles. Just before it disappears, my soul cries: don’t fade away, don’t leave.
The sun pauses, a yolk balancing on the highest peak.
The moment breaks. Your arm falls from my shoulders.
My soul aches as the sun vanishes.
From Guest Contributor Katla Watersin
Nov
The Fall Of The Roman Empire
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Frank stumbles down the street in broad daylight. The crisp air helps dull the pain in his wounds. Lightheaded and off balance, he is reminded of late nights in college, wandering drunkenly back to his dorm room. His vision now has the same tunnel focus that causes him to lose sight of his surroundings.
He’d never finished that final essay for History of Rome, but Professor Dutton had allowed him to pass anyway. She’d always liked him. Maybe it was her fault that he’d never learned any discipline.
What a weird thing to remember as he is about to die.
Sep
First Step
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
My head rotates like the Earth around the sun, except at excessive speed.
It’s difficult to go outside, being afraid of germs and diseases, and wearing a mask does nothing to assure me. I went from going out when necessary to ordering what I need online. My therapist keeps saying I need to take it one day at a time, so today I’m taking my first step.
I place my hand on the front doorknob and breathe. It slowly creaks open.
As I walk onto my front porch, I remember what it’s like to feel the air against my face.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Sep
Adrian’s Jog
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Adrian jogged in the park, the autumn breeze against his face. He nodded his good morning to fellow joggers as he enjoyed the chirping birds.
When he finished his laps, he stopped at the breakfast truck and bought his usual cup of black coffee.
The owner handed Adrian his change. “Crisp morning.”
Adrian sipped his coffee before responding. “Yeah, sure is.”
He said goodbye and took a seat on the bench.
The park began to fill with dog owners taking their pets for morning walks and the cool air warmed.
Adrian relaxed and closed his eyes.
It began to rain.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Aug
Hours, Later
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I’m thinking of them, those soft-lipped women, sitting side by side like litter-mates. They yawn simultaneously, then settle their curly-haired heads against each other; closing their eyes for just a moment. The smell of vanilla lotion is thick in the air, and smooth as honeyed kisses. Nothing is wasted; yet, their story is full of unanswered questions. A string of pearl-sized love bites ring their necks, making it hard to disguise the plum-colored bruises on their golden skins that glow above the soft folds of sundresses. Do they ever sleep? These pure and chaste women who lean on each other.
From Guest Contributor M.J.Iuppa
M.J.’s forthcoming fifth full length poetry collection The Weight of Air from Kelsay Books and a chapbook of 24 100-word stories, Rock. Paper. Scissors. from Foothills Publishing, in 2022. For the past 33 years, she has lived on a small farm near the shores of Lake Ontario. Check out her blog: mjiuppa.blogspot.com for her musings on writing, sustainability & life’s stew.
Aug
Fade Away
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
As I pass through the automatic doors into the library, the smell of musty books fills the air. I browse the shelves for what seems like hours until I come across a fantasy novel with magic and fire breathing dragons. My favorite.
I plop into the usual large, cushioned chair, and my mind wanders to all the chores I need to do when I get home. The bills need to be paid; I have stacks of laundry waiting to be washed, dinner needs to be cooked. It makes my stomach churn.
I start chapter one.
All my worries fade away.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Jul
Duel At Dawn
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The cool, crisp morning air is cold, even in the fog I see my breath. “10 paces I’ll count; 10 paces then turn and shoot,” said my friend. I begin to walk. One. The wet, dewy grass is under my feet. Two. I wore my best clothes today, complete with the gray coat. Three. Black crows call in the distance, laughing at us fools. Seven. Dear god he is already at seven, I think. Eight. The black trigger of this 50-year-old pistol will have another kill. Nine. “Forgive me, Anne. Forgive me,” I pray. Ten. I turn, aim, and shoot.
From Guest Contributor Hayden Unfred