Posts Tagged ‘Dog’


First Mate

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The scream of the seagull broke the silence on the dock. His old dog looked at him and gave a soft whine. It was her fourteenth season and he wondered if it would be her last. Her coat had lightened over the years and little wasn’t gray on her muzzle. He rubbed her head as they walked to his boat.

She struggled to climb over the starboard side of the boat, so he lifted her in. She made it by herself every time last year.

The traditional start of main lobstering season was underway. It might be her last season.

From Guest Contributor NT Franklin


On This, That, And The Other

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Gina peeled each layer of the onion back like it was a metaphor for her own life. That’s why she was disappointed to reach the center and find nothing was there.

This was the danger with metaphors. You may lose control of them so that they take on a life of their own, like a dog that bites the hand that feeds it, or a gift looking a horse in the mouth, and then nothing makes sense anymore.

Or maybe it’s not metaphors she’s thinking of, but clichés. There is, after all, nothing original about an onion with no meaning.


Under Watch

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Armed agents conceal themselves in doorways and behind lampposts and newspapers. You just passed by one and didn’t even know you had. Time to electrocute your thinking. They’re paid to spy, and they spy on people like me – an old man walking a dog on a rope – who’ve done nothing wrong. I can’t sleep through the night for worry that they’re building a dossier against me by twisting something I said. Is it becoming a grass armchair? A black wall? A crying mirror? If it is, I’m finished. One day I’ll squeeze into a crowded elevator that’ll disappear between floors.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie’s latest collections are I’m Not a Robot from Tolsun Books and A Room at the Heartbreak Hotel from Analog Submissions Press. 


Cindy’s Day

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Cindy sipped her hot cocoa and let the warmth hit her stomach, as she listened to the serene crackling of the fireplace. She opened her book, and cuddled on the couch with her dog Bree, until the phone rang.

“Who could be calling me on my day off?” she asked Bree as she barked. “I feel the same way,” she said as she patted Bree’s head and answered the phone.

“Stan has called in sick. You need to come to the office now,” Cindy’s boss said without a hello.

Her planned relaxing day became a hectic day at the office.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher


The Lessons

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Lydia played the piano hoping that would make her parents smile. Her daddy broke some furniture. He bought an accordion and she took lessons. He kicked the dog. Her parents came to see her dance recital. Her daddy yelled at her mama for flirting with a man. He gave her a black eye. Lydia took swimming lessons. Her daddy took her fishing and threw her in the lake yelling “Swim.” She went down down down to the murky bottom where a huge whiskered catfish blinked at her. It was very peaceful. She came up and swam away from the boat.

From Guest Contributor Sandra Ramos O’Briant



by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Morning. Walking to the shops in a daydream, hungover. My mind wanders and takes me somewhere else….

I am sitting at the bar in the Wolf Dog Tavern with John. I ask the landlord to sub me a fifty. The landlord moans, ‘go and cut some lawns and make your own money.’ I tell him that I will have money next week. John was going to cut his lawn by the fish factory.

A lady snaps me out of my reverie, I must have be talking aloud and waving my hands.

‘You alright?’ She asks assuming that I am mad.

From Guest Contributor Declan Kelly

Declan lives in Mayo, Ireland. He is a big fan and follower of Irish heritage, culture, and beer.


The Postcard

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

I sit in the beaming sunlight reading Tim’s postcard from France repeatedly.

“Callie, I met a beautiful French woman and we’re in love. I’m not coming home.”

My sweat drips onto the postcard leaving smudge marks. How could he do this to me? I’m so aghast, I throw the postcard on the grass and my dog Bentley whimpers as I kick the lawn chair across the yard, hitting the neighbor’s fence.

“Hey, watch it, Callie! You’ll break my fence,” Charlie yells.

Before I have a chance to answer, I look at the postcard and chortle. It’s full of bird excrement.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher



by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Sally sits at the dining table, scooping a spoonful of cheerios.

Her dog, Willow, begins to growl viciously. “Willow, what’s wrong?”

Willow snarls, revealing his sharp teeth. Drool dripping onto the floor. His eyes fixated on her. Ready to kill.

“Mommy! Daddy! Something is wrong with Willow!”

Minutes pass.

Sally’s parents run into the kitchen to find Willow is on top of Sally. His jaw locked on Sally’s leg. Ripping the flesh off. Blood gushing. Sally screams in agonizing pain.

Her father grabs the shotgun from the bedroom.

He takes a shot. Willow falls.

Sally is free, but bleeding heavily.

From Guest Contributor Alexa Findlay

Alexa spends most of her time writing fiction and poetry. She is the Founder and Editor-in-Chief of three online literary magazines. She is obsessed with Disney and Jurassic Park. Her work has been featured in Pomona Valley Review, Better than Starbucks Magazine, Adelaide Literary Magazine, Halcyon Days, Grotesque Magazine amongst others.


The Dog And I

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The dog and I had a disagreement over where my hands belonged. She had a name, but I’d reached the point where I rarely used it anymore.

“Why can’t you learn to be more independent?” I asked, trying desperately not to raise my voice.

“Why can’t you just put your stupid hands on me?” the dog asked with her eyes and whimpers.

It seemed we were at an impasse. I just wanted to read my book after a long day at work, and the dog just wanted to be loved after a long day of solitude. First world problems indeed.

From Guest Contributor Dan Slaten


Duty And Thoughts Of Alisen

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

A sweep of peach graced the western sky…maybe. Sleep deprived, he couldn’t really be sure. Vision might be compromised, eyes too bloodshot to discern the ambiguous purity of grey dragging the downpour along the horizon.

And the windows were filthy.

Sunday eyed him from the corner, placid gaze sharpening as her head rose from his Nike, quasi-spaghetti dangling from open maw.

He identified with the drool-laden laces.

“Curious passion,” he said, observing the dog…but thinking of Alisen.

Sunday growled, mouthing the trainer, front paws tensed and backside hoisted by her wagging tail. Play and a walk.

Duty called.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid