Posts Tagged ‘Bank’
Dec
Every Mickle
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The local Farmers’ Bank went belly up.
It was a cooperative concern, like many in the region. The Secretary of the Bank had taken a loan in her late husband’s name on forged documents. Almost all the staffers either embezzled or connived with the defalcators.
Investors, most of them traders and peasants, were shell-shocked. Some blamed themselves for their imprudence while others huddled indecisively.
Kali, the old woman who sold candles, also had a deposit in the bank.
As the bank’s director exited from his car, she confronted him.
“Where’s my money?” Kali yelled, catching the man by his collar.
From Guest Contributor Sathyajith Panachikal
Sathyajith. P.S has reconciled himself to the reality that it is impossible to be reborn in an ancient past with a smartphone and internet connection. Currently, he is trying in real earnest to regain the originality he had when he first chanced upon this planet.
Dec
Under The Rainbow
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
For an instant, just before noticing the new bank of threatening clouds conspiring on the darkened horizon, it seemed like everyone knew how to think, knew what to think; everyone knew how to feel. No one could take their eyes off the rainbow until it faded—as all rainbows always do—and the first few burning drops of the new and far more furious downpour, promising only flood, destruction, and despair appeared.
By the time the storm reached its new-found fury, everyone had given up seeking shelter. No one had any recollection whatsoever of anything even vaguely resembling a rainbow
From Guest Contributor Ron. Lavalette
Ron. Lavalette’s many published works, including his debut chapbook, Fallen Away, can be found HERE.
Feb
The Hold-Up
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Standing in a long bank line that isn’t moving makes M itchy. The dog controller, sloughed in front of her, smells of stale tobacco. M stands too close, and her nose begins to run. In time to her sniffles, the line of gritty workmen shifts its weight. M looks ahead and sees the hold-up—the town collector, cashing her social security. At last, she steps away. The line glares at her. On her way out, red velvet cupcakes catch her eye. She stops, takes napkins, and stacks a tower inside her oversized purse—smiling, this is what she came for.
From Guest Contributor M.J. Iuppa
Nov
Of Weak Spots
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Summer holidays meant wagon rides and a delicious break from school.
On the run for letting the poultry loose, my brother and I were making a hidden treehouse.
Later, we would have gone to the bank, devoured stolen nuts, nailed floorboards, as punishment. Together, we would have made jokes. Of weak spots on the fence and Granddad!
However, the treehouse being too feeble, our hands slippery from juice, hearts too unwilling, he fell to death.
Standing on the desolate bank, I glance at the familiar walnut blooms at Johnson’s. I wonder how we never discovered the weak spot in life.
From Guest Contributor Swatilekha Roy
Mar
Another Sign Of The American Decline
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
From a young age, Megan enjoyed the feel of new money against her skin. She would save her pennies, ride her bike to the corner bank, and trade them in for brand new dollars. Her mom would frequently find her naked in her bedroom, rolling around on her newly-acquired currency.
As an adult, Megan developed a gambling addiction. She fell into bankruptcy on three separate occasions and ruined two marriages, one of which was her own.
But when the treasury secretary succumbed to the latest bird virus, the president could find no better choice to assume the vacant cabinet position.