Posts Tagged ‘Blood’

13
Nov

Hope And The Sword

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Face down in pine-needles, Tom could hear rustling undergrowth.

It wasn’t such disturbance of leaf and stalk that might herald the man’s return, but more woodlandy – some creature curious about the blood…his blood.

Gauging the effort required, he summoned what energy remained and thrust.

His right arm collapsed, the incline rolling him onto his back.

The unobstructed air was invigorating. He’d never appreciated that before. He coughed half way through a breath, spluttering blood.

He managed to avoid choking. He might just survive–

Now he could see the man hadn’t left at all.

The shooter raised the gun again.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid

6
Nov

The Death Of Tales

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The mist glistens with false promises. The canopy drips blood of myriad misled bards vanquished by the Mediocre tribe.

The incantation echoes through the rain forest, causing even lianas to cringe. “We have decided not…”

The shaman feels tears slow to a reticent trickle from still-closed eyes. His heart freezes with horror, sharp mind balking from interpretation.

“Vates!”

It takes a moment to understand he is being addressed.

Lids snap open. “Yes?”

“Did the Mystic Mushroom bring wisdom?” The bard asks, handing him a bowl of spring water.

Cathbad rises from the straw bed. “No, Carolan, a warning of ignorance.”

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid

8
Nov

Ignominy

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The oppressive dryness from the onboard heating joins forces with the mid-carriage intensity of the bus engine to agitate my Nor Loch-purchased nausea. I glare up the aisle at the convex miniature of the driver’s face trying not to think of anything stomach-related…or liquid…or food.

My teeth are Publius Horatius at the Sublicius Bridge: facing off against a more dreaded force than that of Clusium.

But bridges span rivers, and the guy next to me sipping spring water from a bottle of ostentatious brand summons images of the Tiber and spilt blood.

Bile breaks through and brings friends.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid

26
Oct

Observations Of A Canadian Terrarium

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Opulence surrounds me – magically tinted daguerreotype of warped idyll ­– mahogany and cast iron impressing their hubris upon the carpet, much as the armies to the south are scorching their indelible brand of gunpowder and blood upon the land.

Lace and silk give room warmth once provided by the pulsing hearts of Toronto sons; now fighting south west of Vancouver over some San Juan Island potato-eating pig.

You’d think our neighbors would have had their fill of war by now; or at least be spilling blood and stale sweat over nobler offenses than that of one hungry porker and careless farmer.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid

30
Aug

I Killed Him

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The corridors, they felt never ending. The blood stained my hands, no matter what I wiped them on the blood stained my hands. I attempted to wipe the blood from my face but that caused more mess. I turned right. I heard shouting from behind me. “RUN!” It was the last thing said to me before it happened. I slipped into the bathroom running into a stall. I tried not to look but I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Covered head to toe in blood. As I breathed heavy all I could think was I killed him.

From Guest Contributor Lulu

In her own words: My name’s Lulu I’m 14, I wrote this in 2 minutes.

18
Jul

Absent Samaritan

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

He used the lamppost to drag himself to his feet, having groped for the muddy spectacles.

“Help,” he thought he called, clamping the damaged frame to his face to supplement the remaining arm. “I’ve been mugged.”

But he couldn’t have made a noise. Surely the trio who passed would have stopped if he had?

He steadied himself against pain and dizziness and tried to focus his remaining energy into a shout for aid.

He watched through smeared lenses as they faded into the rain: ghosts into oblivion.

He couldn’t be sure they’d heard.

The blood seemed the only irrefutable fact.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid

13
Oct

An Ending, A Beginning

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Dr. Philippa Marsden awoke with a start, the hard cold wood of her desk on her forehead. She clasped her hands to either side of her head, as if she was trying to hold her splitting headache prisoner. Her breath wheezed through her pursed mouth, but the fever was gone.

“Jonathan?” He lay on the floor, white coat stained with blood, stethoscope laying beside him like a dead snake. Pulse? None.

Philippa ran from ward to ward, the cacophony of the previous night replaced by silence. Pulse? None. Repeat. She ran outside to the street..

“HELLO! ANYONE?” Nothing but silence.

From Guest Contributor Ross Clement

30
Jul

We Are Not Responsible For Lost Or Damaged Baggage

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Let him hold and spoon your every nook and cranny of pre-decaying skin. Cut yourself slightly to scrutinize the way you bleed. Is it different?

During his flight later on, he will serve the peanuts and diet cokes to suits and pantsuits that view themselves as better, and this time they will be right. He knows, you know, and the ten untainted cells between you both know, too.

Tell your all-knowing daughter that you, Daddy, are too good at making friends.

Give tickets out with fervor.

Let yourself believe for a mere moment that you can run away for good.

From Guest Contributor Jacqueline McGarry

29
Jan

Guilt

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

I wasn’t the only one at the metro station the evening one of the trains blew up. But I was among those who stood the farthest from the flaming train. I was among the lucky few who escaped unhurt. I was among those who smelt the burning flesh first. I was among those who saw the first streams of blood escaping the bombed coach. I was also among those who ran towards the exit as soon as the shock wore off.

And now I am among those who are haunted by the images of the passengers we could have saved.

From Guest Contributor Namitha Varma

Namitha Varma is based in Mangaluru, India. Her works have appeared in Sahitya Akademi’s journal Indian Literature, eFiction India, Hackwriters, MadSwirl, and Every Writer’s Resource, among others. She can be reached on twitter via @namithavr.

20
Nov

Good Bye World

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The blood of the homeless worked nicely. I was able to refine the unimaginably gruesome ritual and it worked, I stopped aging! I am writing this to repent for my sins and to warn others. Now the only life I will take is my own, to ensure that the minute details of the sickening ceremony die with me. Always remember that one virtuous short life is worth more than a hundred long lives of evil like the one I have lived. I now say goodbye to the world I have known longer than anyone else in the history of man.

From Guest Contributor Kevin Pentalow