Posts Tagged ‘Dead’

15
Jan

She’s Done Crying

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

She wasn’t crying today. First day in years. All dolled up with makeup and wearing her fanciest dress, she was going somewhere. And she looked good, so good, that even her children smiled a little. Friends had been expecting this, and some stopped to see her. Daniel wasn’t there. He never was. His love for her was long gone. After being gone for fifteen years, even the kids didn’t care about him anymore.

It was time. A loud thump signaled the end. The latches sealed and locked the casket closed. The finality of it was unmistakable. She was done crying.

From Guest Contributor NT Franklin

24
Oct

Through The Looking Glass

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

I opened my eyes and saw everything in a new light. The worries of the past few months seemed to have just vanished into thin air. The constant throbbing pain in the back of my head was now gone. I felt like dancing and singing at the top of my lungs. Suddenly I heard some raised voices and the sound of weeping. Intrigued, I walked a few paces and entered the room from where the sobbing came. There was a woman in a blue dress crying, looking at something on the bed. I glanced at the bed and saw myself.

From Guest Contributor Madhavi Agnihotri

31
Aug

The Whispers

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The whispering grows louder after exiting the shaman’s hut. If her words are true, the voices following me are not of my own making, but rather the lost souls of the long dead, clamoring for attention.

I’d thought I was the only one, but she told me they speak to everyone, though very few will admit to hearing them. Those who do are branded as heretics or clinically insane. In a way, I preferred believing that I was unique, but perhaps knowing the truth will lead to acceptance from my peers.

I do, however, regret killing all those people now.

15
May

Tick Tock

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

With his apartment empty and no sounds other than the ticking of the clock, Timothy took a walk in the cold night air until a bright sign caught his eye. Psychic Reading. Reluctantly, he went inside.

“I’m, Tianna. Sit.”

Tianna smoothed her fingers across his palm. “You will be the cause of a terrible accident.”

Upset, Timothy stormed out and crossed the street when he heard a woman’s voice.

“Hey, you didn’t pay me!”

He turned and then a car came to a screeching halt, but not before hitting Tianna.

Still on the ground, her eyes open, Tianna was dead.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

20
Feb

Off Her Rocker

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Annette sits in her favorite rocking chair, by a big window. A gloomy afternoon.

She cradles her dead baby in her pale arms. Hair as white as a ghost. Lips cracked and bleeding. Her body fragile and weak.

She sings a familiar tune. Rocking back and forth, as if trying to put the baby to sleep.

Her watch beeps. Medicine time. She throws the bottle out the window.

The Devil calls her name. She stops her singing. Her body freezes.

“He made me do it. He made me do it. He made me do it…” She repeats.

The devil exists.

From Guest Contributor Alexa Findlay

5
Jan

Colony Collapse

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Hands full of bees, Alice screamed at the sky. Sitting in the grass, blades tickled her thighs. Bee by bee, Alice lined them up. “I’m sorry,” said the speaker at a funeral attended only by the dead.

Maybe she shouldn’t have quit work. Never built an apiary. Would’ve been better joining a gym. Cooking. Reading books that lived in corners of her home. Would’ve been better to speak what he said in the elevator, his voice curling green, twisting to lick her ears.

Alice lay down, tears falling into her hair. She didn’t want the bees to see her cry.

From Guest Contributor Michaela Papa

18
Dec

Dead Mouse Walking

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

“What’s that plastic bag poking out of your pocket, Ollie?”

“Nothing to worry about, Jim. Only a dead mouse.”

“I thought there was a pong.”

“Found him in the airing cupboard. Toasting himself, the fecker.”

“Ollie, why are you carrying him around?”

“I’m going to give him a decent burial.”

“You know what I’d have done?”

“What?”

“I’d have served him to Sourpuss. As a delicacy.”

“Isn’t Sourpuss rotund enough?”

“Are you going to part with that mouse, or aren’t you?”

“It’ll cost you, Jim.”

“Pint?”

“G’wan. Done. Here, take him.”

“Barman, two Guinness.”

Plop.

“What the-? My pint!”

“Cheers!”

From Guest Contributor Geraldine McCarthy

30
Oct

Deadly Hour

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

John, riding down the dark empty road at three o’clock in the morning, takes a swig of beer.

“I can’t believe Amy is marrying that jerk! She said she loved me. That lying witch!”

Inebriated, he swerves in and out of lanes, his vision blurry. He presses on the accelerator just missing an approaching car. The driver honks his horn profusely at Johnny. Laughing, Johnny takes his eyes off the road and crashes head on into a tree.

Lying dead with his head on the steering wheel and his thumb pressing on Amy’s cell number, the phone begins to dial.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

28
Sep

The Mouse

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Robert and Rebecca arrived home to find a dead mouse on their kitchen floor.

It was an old building, so Rebecca was not surprised there would be rodents. Rather than being grossed out, she began reflecting on her own mortality, wondering if she were better or worse off than the mouse for having knowledge of her impending oblivion. It was a thought that often kept her up late into the night, as she listened to Robert’s light snoring and choked back tears.

Robert could only think about the mess that must have attracted the mouse, and began a thorough cleaning.

9
Mar

Lift The Perfume

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Lift the perfume, dust, put it back down.
Lift the box, dust, put it back down.
Lift the moisturizer, see her initials, freeze.
JS.
Just last week she was teasing me about cleaning our bedroom.
Well, my bedroom now.
Since the accident.
Not an accident, a stupid drunk drove into the side of the car.
The violent end replays in my mind.
My room is silent now. No more laughing. No more cuddling. No more urging me to clean up.
Just an alone silence. An empty room.
I put down the moisturizer.
Lift another perfume, dust, put it back down.

From Guest Contributor Rodney Goodall