Posts Tagged ‘Boy’
Dec
The Gift
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Timothy wants a brother for Christmas.
His mother, divorced, comes up with an alternative solution and sits Timothy on her lap. “Honey, there’s another way we could give you a similar present. Each month we can sponsor a child.”
Timothy tilts his head. “What does that mean, Mommy?”
“Well, each month we’ll send money to help the boy get food, education, and whatever he needs. Some children in other countries can’t afford these things and need help.”
Timothy’s face lit up the room with his radiant smile. “I like that, Mommy.”
In Bangladesh, a little boy has a happy holiday.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Dec
One Last Time
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“Be a good boy,” said my mother. “Stop playing cricket in the graveyard with you likkle hooligan friend. I don’t want to hear that you trying to see duppies by washing you face with rice water.”
I didn’t want to disappoint my mother, a God-fearing woman, who left Jamaica ten Christmases ago to work as a hospice nurse in Miami, comforting the soon-to-be dead. I’d been a good boy until last week when she came home in a box. So who could blame me (and I know she would forgive me) if I tried to see her one last time.
From Guest Contributor Geoffrey Philp
Geoffrey is the author of Garvey’s Ghost
Nov
Theodore’s Halloween
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Ten-year-old Theodore sat in front of the window and watched the trick or treaters. A boy dressed as Dracula flapped his black cape and his fangs glowed under the streetlight. Theodore took a sip of cocoa and listened as his mom wished the children a ‘Happy Halloween’ while they chortled and chose their favorite candy.
His mom placed her soothing hand on his shoulder before walking into the kitchen to prepare their dinner.
Theodore finished his hot cocoa, pushed his wheelchair in front of the television and stared blankly at the screen until his mom called his name for dinner.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Nov
This Boy’s Life
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Sammy’s live-in, Tanya, abhors Sammy’s pet tarantula, Quentin. Tanya’s friend, Gwen—Sammy’s illicit lover—sees murder in Tanya’s eyes. Quentin disappears. Sammy suspects Tanya. Time smolders. Back into the picture Quentin dramatically creeps. Tanya proves Gwen prescient, then moves out. Gwen moves in, eventually giving birth to a boy they call Quentin. Time bursts into flames. Hating his parents for naming him after a spider, Quentin kills spiders to spite them, worrying school counselors. Twenty-first century America. Mad boy. 3-D printers. Time, get wise. They call the boy Thomas. He learns violin, no spiders wantonly harmed in this boy’s life.
From Guest Contributor Darrell Petska
Darrell is a Madison, Wisconsin writer. View some of his fiction and poetry at conservancies.wordpress.com.
Feb
Sabre Tiger
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Abandoned… Alone!
Sabre Tiger the children named him. The apartment manager said, No!”
Dad said, “Ask Grandma,” Grandma said, “Ask Grandpa.” Grandpa was reluctant. The children loved him, the boy said, “Take him home,” the girl said, “Please!” Grandpa relented.
The vet said, “He’s healthy, but overweight at 13 pounds,” Sabre swished his tail severely, “Might not get along with your cat.”
At home, Sabre was content; on his back, trusting, paws in the air, asleep.
Now, at 19 pounds plus, he’s Sabre Tiger; struts, ruler of the household. Grandpa reminds him daily. “You’re a cat, remember, you’re a CAT!
From Guest Contributor Ted Duke
Nov
Chopping Along
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Knife steadied, I proceeded to chop sweet pepper. Choppy chords of a Chopin prelude dominated the airwaves as the sound of an overhead chopper faded. “Anything else to add to our Chopin list? Sorry, couldn’t help it,” husband laughed. Lucky he’s not on my chopping block, I thought. “Don’t forget. Mother’s here for dinner tonight,” I said. Onions appeared next on my chopping board. “What are you making, Mom?” I turned around to answer: “Vegetarian Chop Suey.” “No lamb chops? That’s okay,” my boy surmised. “Don’t think grandma’s choppers can take anything tough. Does she know how to use chopsticks?
From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs
Krystyna is a writer of poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. She resides in Edmonton, Canada with her husband and stuffed animals and many friends.
Oct
Echo Of Time
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I watched the child in the blue sweatshirt jump in the leaves, laughing. What a delight to have heard the echo of his chortle as I sat with the cool autumn breeze against my face. I had my novel opened at the same page for the last fifteen minutes, my eyes focused on the fair-haired boy.
He plopped down, waved his hands through the leaves and looked at the clear sky.
I closed my book and lifted myself up with my cane.
The boy had gone and all I saw were leaves blowing in the park.
That boy was me.
From Guest Contributor Lisa Scuderi-Burkimsher
Jun
The Change
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“Watta you gonna do?”
“I don’t know.” It was getting dark.
“You could run away.”
“Where would I go?”
“California?”
“That far?”
“Or Mexico.”
“I don’t speak Spanish.”
“Then just give it back.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I already spent it on candy.”
His friend thought about that. “Can I have some?”
“I ate it all.”
After watching the traffic at the intersection for a while, the boy’s friend got up. “I can’t go to California,” he said apologetically.
“Why not?”
“I’m not allowed to cross the street.”
“Yeah,” the little boy still sitting on the curb admitted, “me neither.”
From Guest Contributor Jean Blasiar
Aug
Criminal
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
He had been marked as a criminal as a young boy. The branding itself was not especially painful, not physically at least. The stigma that he now bears has, however, made life nearly unbearable these past 20 years.
There is a relativity that applies to all things in all times. A crime, for example, may in fact be a heroic act under the right circumstances and in the right culture. To ignore the possibility of nuance means that everything becomes black and white in a world full of color.
Yet there is nothing relative about the brand on his face.
Jul
The Boglands
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
You’ve walked this way hundreds of times, but tonight seems different. You keep your pace brisk and straight.
Two shadows, a woman and her child. She reaches down, ruffling the boy’s hair. That’s when the boy skips off the road, slipping from the woman’s hold. He sinks into the marshland, cries out and is submerged completely.
You rush forward and grasp the child.
It is not a child. Eyes roll back into the skull then flick forwards. Slight hands clamp tight.
“We’re sorry,” the woman murmurs.
One final gulp of air and all three of you sink into the Boglands.
From Guest Contributors Katie Clark and David Rae
David lives is a fan of flash fiction and has had work published in; BLINK-INK, HELIOS QUARTERLY, GNU MAGAZINE, THE MACHINERY, THREE DROPS FROM THE CAULDRON, SUMMER FLING -TALES OF SEDUCTION, SHORT TALE 100 and 50 WORD STORIES.
Katie is new at this game but thinks she might like it. She’s the brains behind the operation