Posts Tagged ‘Death’
Jul
Walking Through Death
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I lived once upon a time on Sagittarius. That dream took me to Perseus, then to Orion, then to Orion’s arm, then to Orion Nebula, where we pick up this story. Death I travel the ways is scary. I awoke in the green realm right before entering the latest world.
To watch the end. Bye to Humanity. Why? In my mirror reality I did things and was once upon a time a person of influence. Doubt me? I doubt myself these days. I write to the same people with influence there here and nothing happens. All self bent on death.
From Guest Contributor Clinton Siegle
Clinton is a blogger, disabled, expat, filmmaker, poet, and writer living in La Paz, Bolivia.
Mar
How High The Moon
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Many years have passed since both horrific creatures, Count Dracula and the Wolf Man, fell over the cliff’s edge, plummeting into the sea below. Never seen or heard from again.
But as it was said, time and wars proceeded to pass throughout the globe. While this cursed man’s battle never ends.
Witness the horrors of a desperate man that defines new meanings such as, love and happiness, for his restful end.
If only that where true. To finally have my soul released from this misery, this burden… This curse.
I then chuckle, before frantically saying…
But, I can never die.
From Guest Contributor Jason Jenkover
Dec
Soldier
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The soldier’s leg is broken in two places, but he’s courageous and doesn’t scream. As I’m cleaning the wound, he grabs my arm.
“I won’t be fighting again, will I?”
I gently remove his hand. “I’m afraid not. You’ll be heading home. Your mother will be overjoyed to see you.”
He kisses my hand and looks into my eyes. “At least in this hell, I got to see a beautiful nurse to remember.”
I follow his stare, then lean in and kiss his forehead. “Take care, soldier.”
The sepsis will soon kill him, and he’ll return home in a coffin.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Nov
The Lit Bedroom
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
As nightfall descended, a feathery latecomer gathered crumbs from Vi’s patio. Lights in a nearby house turned off, except for one.
It shone from a second story. An elderly woman was seen looking out the window.
When Vi met the house owner at their communal mailbox, she remarked on the upstairs light being left on at night and asked how long the guest would be visiting.
The neighbor looked perplexed. She said it was her mother’s room, until her death a year ago.
Vi wondered if her imagination played tricks. Since their conversation, that bedroom light no longer lit up.
From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs
Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction, primarily residing in Edmonton, Canada.
Nov
Understaffed
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“I’m sorry, Number Six,” Death said to his probationary assistant, “but I’m going to have to let you go. Even though business is booming, and I need all the help I can get, you’ve just made too many mistakes. You’ve ended the lives of three people who were not supposed to die…just this week!”
“Bu…but,” Six stammered. “It wasn’t my fault. The paperwork was mixed up on one and the GPS wasn’t working on the others. Plus, all the overtime and…”
“Enough!” Death barked. “No excuses! There is just no place in this organization for a Dim Reaper!”
From Guest Contributor Lee Hammerschmidt
Lee is a Visual Artist/Writer/Troubadour who lives in Oregon. He is the author of the short story collections, A Hole Of My Own and It’s Noir O’clock Somewhere. Check out his hit parade on YouTube!
Sep
My Death
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
This is a country you only hear about when there is a failed coup or a 7.2 magnitude earthquake or all the whales have syphilis. Most days I feel as if hundreds of tiny worms with razor teeth are whittling my bones. People who have seen me grab onto a wall to keep from falling down in pain sometimes suggest I try heat or special creams. I thank them just to be polite. Meanwhile, a figure in a long black coat lurking nearby sucks on a cigarette, then expels a mouthful of smoke like the monster in a fairy tale.
From Guest Contributor Howie Good
Howie’s chapbook Famous Long Ago is forthcoming from Laughing Ronin Press.
Aug
Afterlife
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
People say when you die you see a tunnel. A bright light. Angels. Pearly gates. Or hellfire and brimstone, depending on your earthly deeds.
Lies.
There is no tunnel. No welcome by ghostly outspread arms. No river of milk and honey.
Instead, I see a river of blue. Vertical lines of binary code, scrolling endlessly in the void. The emptiness is so vast, it tugs at my soul, a remembrance. Grief.
I begin to walk, seeking. I push back the lines of code like a curtain. And then there you are. Your ocean eyes, your quicksilver smile.
“Welcome home, love.”
From Guest Contributor Heather R. Parker
Aug
Chatrang
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“Your move,” Death said.
They can’t hear me. Please give me another chance. The mortal shivered.
“Thirteen moves.” The Guardian Angel moved his bishop.
The Death Angel smirked. “Check.”
“It’s never enough to defend their lives,” the Guardian sighed.
No, I don’t want to die.
“They never learn, do they?” Death chuckled. “No empathy for others, until violence knocks on their doors.”
No, please, I’m a good person.
“Someday, maybe, I hope to defend a man who is worth a decent game.” The guardian placed his knight.
Oh god, I can’t see anything, I want to live!
Death roared, “Checkmate.”
From Guest Contributor Amberstar Rosette
Amberstar is a writer who lives in the Czech Republic
Jun
Legal
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
January 18, Jack told his wife Jan that she had gained a few pounds. Why couldn’t she be skinny like her younger sister Jean? February 10, he stayed out until after 2AM, came home drunk and drove the car into the garage. March 3, Jan found her sister in bed with Jack. The jury of twelve women ruled Jack’s death justifiable homicide on December 2. Five days later Jan married her brilliant lawyer, Frank Webster. When asked what he was doing, Frank said “Sure she’s a murderer, but look at that body. Anyway, now I know what not to do.”
From Guest Contributor Doug Hawley
The little old man has published four hundred or so things in the UK, USA, Canada, Iran, Germany, Australia, the Netherlands, India, and Spain without ever exhibiting any skill or ability. https://sites.google.com/site/aberrantword/
Apr
The Death And Life Of The Avant-Garde
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
When Franz K. was taken off the train in the middle of the night, he came to on a street of futuristic glass towers that, from an architectural perspective, were already passé. “What are those buildings?” he asked his keeper, a tall, thin, priestly figure who emanated an aura of gentle authority. “You’ll find out,” the keeper said, smiling. He never did. By the time the sun rose, he was tied to a post, watching in terror the firing squad assemble. It was sort of like avant-garde cinema where a series of incidents doesn’t necessarily add up to a plot.
From Guest Contributor Howie Good
Howie Good is the author of more than a dozen poetry collections, including most recently Gunmetal Sky (Thirty West Publishing) and The Bad News First (Kung Fu Treachery Press).