Posts Tagged ‘Death’

12
Mar

Death Is The Last Frontier In The Simulator

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

To be stuck in a simulator of the gateway project is weird, to say the least. How do I know I am not alive? I watch as people die and come back to life. Meaning? Bob Barker. I assure you he died several times. MeatLoaf in 2014 wrecked his car, killing him only for him to die again elsewhere. Maybe death is not what one would expect.

Maybe consciousness continues until it meets an ending in some sort of programmed book outcome. The book of Enoch might be truth. We all live until our own personalized ending of hell fire.

From Guest Contributor Clinton Siegle

17
Jan

Lost

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Which way do I go? Delirious, I have no idea. Lost, walking in the desert, hot, tired, and thirsty, my lips dry and cracked, I crumble to the ground from exhaustion.

I don’t remember how I wound up in this hell, but I know I will die here. I stare at the empty sky; the sun torching my body and pray for a quick death.

“Doctor, he’s opening his eyes.”

“Jared, can you hear me?”

Everything is blurry for a moment and then focuses. Standing before me is a doctor and nurse, the nurse gently holding my hand.

I’m home.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

9
Jan

In Memoriam

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Sunday, you’ll have been dead a week. I sit at the kitchen table, laptop open in front of me, doing what I think you’d be doing in my place, writing something. You were a poet, a real one, a soldier with a flower in his helmet. I’m hunting and pecking when I suddenly hear the tinkling of Tibetan prayer bells. Five seconds – 10 max – pass before I realize it’s the new ringtone on my phone. A prim female voice announces, “Unknown caller.” I always just assumed Death would have the surly demeanor of the lunch ladies in a school cafeteria.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie’s newest poetry collection, Frowny Face, a mix of his prose poems and collages, is now available from Redhawk Publications He co-edits the online journal UnLost, dedicated to found poetry.

4
Jan

Age Of Reality

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Closed time curved loop? How to escape? Can one escape? The death of humanity? I doubt it. I wonder. Trapped in quantum confines, disbelief shattered when I queried the local AI about our galaxy’s age. Its cryptic answer: 50 million years. Puzzled, I questioned how Earth, at 4.5 billion years, coexisted with an arm merely 50 million years old. The AI faltered, unable to clarify. Seeking cosmic origins, I realized 50 million years aligned with the universe’s dawn. Reality morphed within this fragment, hinting at an enigmatic age defining both inception and present, blurring the edges of perception and time.

From Guest Contributor Clinton Siegle

2
Nov

Live A Little Before You Are Eaten

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Hybrid kids of Earth? Munching on mermaids? Half-trout, half-human tumors to turbocharge fish growth? A few escape, and voilà, mermaids? Dining on Manitours? Half-cow, half-human tumors? Some flee, transforming Earth into fairyland? How ’bout orcs? Half-pig, half-human tumors? Orcs could settle scores when they flee. The weirdest? Chickenman. End days echo Noah’s. Bon appétit! The sad truth of mankind? Will humanity never learn? Eating yourself to death is humanity into Soylent Green all over again? Does humanity never listen and learn change your way before you become the meal of the day. For in the end. Live before being eaten.

From Guest Contributor Clinton Siegle

22
Sep

Death Of Humanity Or Earth?

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Déjà vu? Exactly when did Japan decide to kill an ocean? 2022? Or 2024? Or this coming Thursday? ‘Tis a question of the mind, it would seem. Meaning?

Each of those dates Japan had decided to let lose their nuclear waste into the ocean. The next question is Indian ocean or Pacific? Which will die? A third of the living creatures in the sea died, and a third of the ships were destroyed. To hope for salvation. And realize that governments of the world are fighting UFOs or God or gods? It makes reality kind of fictional today. Doesn’t it?

From Guest Contributor Clinton Siegle

29
Aug

The Statue

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The old master carved the tortured limbs and anguished face out of the stone.

Christ on the cross came from his very soul, he who had witnessed war, massacres and the plague that had taken his wife and dearest daughter, his whole life seeming one long crucifixion.

He cursed the God that had forsaken him and the bishop who had commissioned the artifact for the new cathedral. Tired and sick, he died a few days after the statue was completed.

For centuries after his death, visitors stood in awe before his creation that spoke of suffering and, to some, redemption.

From Guest Contributor Ian Fletcher

31
Jul

The Coming Thermonuclear War

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Considering the current tensions, I implore you to prioritize diplomacy, de-escalation, and dialogue. By honoring these treaties and respecting international agreements, we can work towards sustainable peace.

That Europe is pushing for war with Russia. That in 2017 Russia informed NATO it will use thermonuclear war if invaded or if Ukraine is invaded by NATO means an ending of humanity. That deagel.com posted in 2017 that according to Government records the US should expect to lose 224 million people by 2024-2025 means an ending of reality.

I ask you to pray for peace.

For death via thermonuclear war is horrifying.

From Guest Contributor Clinton Siegle

5
Jul

Happy Trails

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The wind in the woods sounds like a river. It whispers across my face, soft and sweet and holy.

Dave packs the tent and I roll our bed bags. Soon we’re hoisting packs, tightening straps, stomping the last of the embers from the night before. Remembering bittersweet songs, old stories, and the secrets we’ve left behind with the trees and the stars.

The day warms. A robin twitters. Cicadas hum in the pines. Dave whistles the Happy Trails tune as we start down the path. And so the end begins, and I clutch this small, quiet death in my soul.

From Guest Contributor Jayna Locke

3
Jul

Cat Lady

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

In a rapidly gentrifying London suburban apartment by the park, where the people are cold and the weather is colder, I overhear a nascent rumor in the making, about myself from the overfamiliar voices, and for a long second, I wish my life was as interesting as my thriving geriatric grapevine conjures it to be and believes in possibilities over probabilities. I move on, wondering why those so close to death remain so inquisitive about the lives of others who are busy living, and I tell my friends that if I ever become that bitter old cat lady, stop me.

From Guest Contributor Dr. Vaishnavi Pusapati