Posts Tagged ‘Boy’

27
Sep

Headache

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

I’m having trouble concentrating and so I close my novel with a thump. Then I curse, having had a headache for several days that I can’t get rid of. On the coffee table there are piles of bills that I haven’t paid in months. Hence the headache.

My dog Charlie cuddles beside me and rolls over for a stomach rub. Sadly, he’s my only true friend.

“Hey, boy, thanks for always being around.”

I get up to take two aspirins when the phone rings. What I hear on the other end worsens the migraine.

I’ve been evicted from my apartment.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

18
Sep

Motherhood At Starbucks

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Motherhood at Starbucks.
A boy of 3 discusses his day’s activities with his mother.
While enjoying his cookie.
In a moment of grace, he offers his mom a bite of his treasure.
His prize for perfection– His cookie.
She accepts knowing that this perfection may not come again.
They discuss their plans that are meaningful only to them.
I am amazed at the fluidity of their grace and their understanding
Of one another.
I wonder what our lives would be like if we were so blessed.
Except on holy days when angels guided us home, happy, in love.
And sacred.

From Guest Contributor Sandy Rochelle

Sandy Rochelle is an award winning and widely published poet, and filmmaker. Her Documentary film Silent Journey is streaming on: http://www.cultureunplugged.com/storyteller. She is the recipient of the prestigious Presidential Literary Award. Publications include: Dissident Voice, Wild Word, Verse Virtual, Indelible, Haiku Universe, Every Day Writer, Poetic Sun, Ekphrastic Review, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, and others.

20
Jul

A Boy I Knew

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

A boy I knew killed a man. Lost his mind. Shaved his head. His face on the news was an open-mouthed scream, soundless. His eyes so round, searching. I whispered to the screen: please blink. I said it like ice in his mouth, like the way he’d look up at stars puncturing the still night sky, the cold air, too many angles of his body pushing out, knees and elbows and chin. I said it without hope. When this boy was mine, he danced and wide-smiled and kissed and laughed. His voice rang out, ethereal, hit the earth like rain.

From Guest Contributor Beth Mead

20
Jun

Turnaround Day

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Midway through the exam my lead broke. What to do?

The boy across the aisle noticed.

“I brought extras. Take one,” he coaxed, extending an arm towards me.

Why would he offer to help me? I, the lowest achiever of the class; the one all classmates avoided.

Reluctantly I accepted his pencil, resuming my guesses to multiple choice questions.

“Good luck,” the same boy whispered, bending towards me.

I watched him rush to the front of the room to be the first to hand in his exam. He, the smartest student of the class.

The one who gave me hope.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction and creative nonfiction regardless of the season or location she finds herself in.

20
Jan

The Glory Days

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Captain Sam of the starship Gillian’s Folly watches as the stars pass in long white arcs of Doppler light. As a boy, he always wanted to command a ship. The power. The excitement.

In reality, today everything is controlled by the ship’s intelligence. Captain Sam is a glorified steward, employed by the corporation to ensure all the passengers behave themselves. For some reason they find listening to orders from a man in a uniform easier to swallow than from a computer, never mind said computer controls how much oxygen they receive.

Captain Sam longs for the days of intergalactic war.

12
Dec

Camaraderie

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Quibble believes the Paterson boy is getting a little close to his daughter. He has seen how tethered they sit when allowed to linger together on the porch. Three school dances in a row they have been each other’s primary partner. Quibble’s wife has taken to complimenting for no reason, with fanfare, the boy’s taste in clothing. The conspiracy grows. Quibble is sure, if he had a mind to intercede, he could find the couple parked in the graveyard, innocently – so far – bobbing for lumber. He likes the boy well enough. He has to find a way to warn him.

From Guest Contributor Ken Poyner

1
Aug

A Boy In The Torn Jacket

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The horror of an early morning bombardment urged the boy in the torn jacket to seek his mom. Out of debris and rubble, he most needed the dearest soul to hug him tightly.

I stood and watched the scene in despair. Out of nowhere, a social worker appeared, took Ian’s hand, and asked his name. I tapped the man on the shoulder and offered to adopt the boy.

“Are you sure you’d cope?” the man reacted in disbelief.

I have never regretted my choice. Ian has substituted our once-unborn-child, ‘the diamond in the sky,’ as we call him with Liz.

From Guest Contributor Taras Bereza

Taras is a professional lexicographer at ‘Apriori Publishers’ with 10 published dictionaries. He has worked as a contributing freelance writer since 2006 and wrote for Bacopa Literary Review and Freedom With Writing.

24
Mar

The Black Figures

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

He rested on the soft surface, observing one among the many roses surrounding him, the white petals layering atop each other. Whimpering from piercing screams, trembling from blaring sirens, shutting his ears tightly with his hands couldn’t help. Two black figures stood over him. One leaned closer, tenderly stroking the boy’s forehead. ‘You love flowers, don’t you?’ it whispered. He smiled, and the other handed him a bouquet. ‘Let’s leave him some peace now, shall we? And I’m quite certain he does—loved them since birth.’ It nodded, and with a thud, blocking the perceivable, the velvet lid slid over him.

From Guest Contributor Lo Xing Le

8
Feb

The Giver

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

It started with gummies. Her mother placed a bag inside her lunch box every day. She gave them all away, hoping the other kids would like her.

In high school, she had a crush on a cute boy. She gave him the best seat, and then she couldn’t see.

Away at university, she baked lemon cakes. She gave all the slices to students who studied in the lounge late at night.

One day after work, she paused at a window and stared. People on the sidewalk bustled behind her.

She stepped into the bakery, bought lemon cake, and ate it.

From Guest Contributor Faye Rapoport DesPres

Faye is the author of the memoir-in-essays Message From a Blue Jay and the Stray Cat Stories children’s book series. She lives and writes in Cambridge, Massachusetts.

3
Jan

True Meaning

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

As a boy, I remember my dad telling me Christmas is about family and spending time together. Secondary, exchanging gifts.

My own children are opening their presents and their beaming faces light up the room. The Christmas tree is sparkling with silver tinsel and an angel at the top of the tree, its wings white and glowing. Decorations and food consume the house this time of year, the baked ziti’s sauce filling the air with a delicious aroma. But these delightful things are not what my children celebrate.

The birth of Jesus Christ is the reason we celebrate the holiday.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher