Posts Tagged ‘Chair’
Apr
Weightlifting
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
When he first started pushing barbells, he did it to get his anger out, throwing the weights from his body, stressing his tendons as he exhaled sprays of spit with every red-faced repetition, every sweaty pump. He realized his joints wouldn’t last long hurling metal, so he calmed his approach, traded manic intervals – of fighting gravity with fury – for calculated precision, and he’d demonstrate, lying down on a chair with an invisible bar connecting his fists, showing us the proper form of a barbell press, his big forearms and biceps flexing and twisting slowly as his muscles contracted, then extended.
From Guest Contributor Parker Wilson
Parker is a writer and editor living in Highland Park. He is a recent MFA graduate and spends his free time running along the Detroit River. He’s published in Bristol Noir and is a founding editor at DUMBO Press.
Instagram:@parkerreviewsbooks
Jan
The Lord Loves Me
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The Lord loves me even though I don’t love myself.
Not every day goes great. But when I pray, I pray for joy and happiness.
The wife comes and yells, “your lazy butt still sitting in that darn chair?”
“Just talkin’ to the Lord for a moment.”
A bolt of lightning makes us both jump and her fall to her knees.
“No, David,” she yells, “not a storm. We need the tomatoes to bloom, you old fool.”
The second bolt of lightning enters the house and her skull.
I smile, realizing even the weather listens when I talk to God.
From Guest Contributor E. Barnes
E. Barnes has works published in The Purple Pen, The Haven, Spillwords, Centina Pentina, A Story In 100 Words and the anthology NanoNightmares.
Nov
Perfect Spring Day
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Rob stares out the window at two young girls playing jump rope while their mother and grandmother cheer. The girls are chortling and clapping without a care.
The birds swoop overhead, and leaves blow in the light breeze. It’s the perfect spring day.
It becomes too hot by the window, so Rob backs away.
“Hello son. Let’s go outside. The doctor says the fresh air will do you good.”
Rob nods and wheels his chair toward the door. His dad pushes him the rest of the way.
The girls will be jumping rope, while he looks on from his wheelchair.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Feb
Chair
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Once a month the dance band section of the Lake Oswego Millennium Concert Band plays at a local Oregon church. It mostly plays big band numbers from the 1940s and 1950s. Many of the dancers are middle aged or older couples who ballroom dance. Some singles come and dance with different partners, and there is an attractive young couple. Editor and I combine some basic steps with my freestyle wildness. The big attraction is the fellow in a wheelchair who moves expertly while waving one hand. He usually is with a woman who follows him while holding his other hand.
From Guest Contributor Doug Hawley
Aug
Fade Away
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
As I pass through the automatic doors into the library, the smell of musty books fills the air. I browse the shelves for what seems like hours until I come across a fantasy novel with magic and fire breathing dragons. My favorite.
I plop into the usual large, cushioned chair, and my mind wanders to all the chores I need to do when I get home. The bills need to be paid; I have stacks of laundry waiting to be washed, dinner needs to be cooked. It makes my stomach churn.
I start chapter one.
All my worries fade away.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Dec
Stranger One
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
One day a few years back I accompanied spouse and editor (same person) while she went shopping at the Albertsons a few blocks away. I would wander aimlessly if I went with her, so I sat in a chair outside. An average looking and dressing man walked up and sat beside me. I feared he would talk religion or politics, but the conversation was banal to the point that I don’t remember it. He walked away. It seemed that he disappeared, but he probably entered the store or turned a corner. I wonder why he chose to sit beside me.
From Guest Contributor Doug Hawley
Jul
Learning To Read
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I lean into my chair holding the book by its bind, learning to read what I did not as a child, but now with gray in my stubble. Flipping through the pages, feeling the paper crease between my fingers, I fumble to link it all together.
I follow the words with a methodical dexterity of a trained scientist, and with repetition, I begin to sense the fruits of my labor, basking in the glow of my mother’s maiden language come alive.
The exercise ends with a whistle, as I close my cookbook and taste the pepperpot burn my overeager tongue.
From Guest Contributor Eric Persaud
Eric is an Indo-Guyanese American living in New York City. He is currently working on his doctoral dissertation in Public Health and writing stuff in his free time.
Jan
An Icy Lot
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I cautiously got out of my car into the icy lot. A man in a chair was spinning his wheels.
“Do you need any help?” I asked.
“What the hell do I need help for? Everyone thinks the cripple needs help. Damnit, no I don’t need help,” he said.
“I’m sorry, I just thought…”
“That’s your problem. Think too much. What do you know about being crippled?”
“I have schizophrenia,” I said.
“Well, congratulations. We’re both cripples,” he said. He broke a smile and we laughed.
“You don’t feel bad for me anymore do you?”
“Not at all,” I laughed.
From Guest Contributor Steve Colori
Nov
The Reading
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The flashing sign blinds Marissa’s eyes. The door says enter, and she pushes it open with a sigh.
“Please sit,” says the woman in flamboyant blue and green gypsy clothes. “I assume you want a reading.”
“Yes, good and bad.”
The woman takes Marissa’s right hand and reads her palm. “I don’t see a future for you. There will be no success or love in your life. You will die tragically and without warning.”
Marissa jolts in her chair. “I’m not up to this. Here’s your money.”
Anxious and distracted, Marissa doesn’t see the car coming. She dies on impact.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Oct
The Bundle
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
He’d always seen the precious bundle as his passport to validation, his means to assuage all the failures of the past. He sought to learn from the wisdom of its sometimes harsh words. It was only two years old, light enough yet to cradle in his arms until he fell asleep in his chair, teary-eyed, yet hopeful.
Each morning there would be either little to feed it, or surfeit enough for an unsightly spurt of growth. It all depended on the postman.
A particularly cruel epithet from an envelope’s maw tipped the scales.
The bundle helps the dry leaves burn.
From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid