Posts Tagged ‘Battle’
Jan
Play
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Bobby carted the bin out by the hose and sighed.
This would take a while.
He started loading water guns, blasters, soakers, super soakers, water cannons, squirt guns, water pistols, pump-action blasters, pressurized water guns, and dual water blasters. Then he filled water balloons. What good soldier would go into battle without grenades?
He plugged every aperture, dumped his arsenal in the boat, surveyed the other canoes. Bobby hopped in, skimmed his hand across a super soaker. He imagined the jetting stream–-its range, accuracy. He envisioned drenched shirts and squealing.
No one would find this enjoyable, he cackled, no one.
From Guest Contributor Joseph S. Pete
Joseph is an Iraq War veteran, an award-winning journalist, an Indiana University graduate, a book reviewer, and a frequent guest on his local NPR affiliate. He was named the poet laureate of Chicago BaconFest 2016, a feat that Geoffrey Chaucer chump never accomplished. His work has appeared in Chicago Literati, Dogzplot, shufPoetry, The Roaring Muse, Fictitious, The Blue Collar Review, The Five-Two, Lumpen, McSweeney’s Internet Tendency, Pour Vida, Pulp Modern, Zero Dark Thirty and elsewhere. He once Googled the Iowa Writers’ Workshop. True story, believe it or not.
Jun
Drink
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“Drink!”
Gunnar raised the cup to his lips, the sickening in his stomach impossible to ignore.
“Drink!”
Gunnar gagged down one more cup, a temporary respite from the bile in his throat.
“Drink!”
Gunnar could barely focus on his hand, let alone make out his fellow revelers. The entire universe had shrunk down to just him and his cup.
“Drink!”
There was echoing laughter as Gunnar collapsed to the floor. It sounded distant, like it was coming from another hall.
“Drink!”
Gunnar’s final thought was that he hoped losing a battle with his cups was good enough to enter Valhalla.
Aug
The Loyal Dog
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
There is a shrine on a small Pacific island that was intended to be an agnostic memorial saluting the bravery and sacrifice on both sides. So many years have gone by, however, that memories of that battle have become obscured, much as the shrine itself has been weighed down by lichen and neglect.
People still visit the shrine and leave tributes. They aren’t for the fallen soldiers, but for one particular dog who remained on that spot for ten years after his master was killed. He is remembered as the loyal dog and people mourn him more than any soldier.
Jun
OCD For PTSD
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Herbert surveyed the battle raging before him. Never had he seen his living room in such disarray. The coffee table, seven degrees askew, was at war with his sofa and chaise. The casualties were everywhere, as the legroom between sofa and table had practically been murdered, and the rug underneath was suffering its death throes as it bunched up under the strain.
As heroically as Alvin York, who risked life and limb for his fellow soldier, Herbert dove into the tempest.
With the furniture righted, and the correct layout restored, Herbert knew all that would remain would be his PTSD.
May
Watch Out
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Time is my mortal enemy.
There are never enough minutes in a day. No matter how scheduled and organized I try to be, time always manages to sneak up on me, slipping through the cracks, flying past me unnoticed, baffling me every time. It’s a constant battle that begins the minute I wake up each morning. I start each day feeling invigorated and optimistic, but no matter how much I accomplish, there are still tasks left unfinished, boxes left un-ticked. With each passing day, I slump away feeling defeated.
In an effort to boycott time, I never wear a watch.
From Guest Contributor, Kristen Lum