Posts Tagged ‘Door’


The State Of Care

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

A banner stretching across the building’s exterior says, “What’s Shakin’.” You aren’t sure how that should be read, as a description or a question. There’s only one way to find out. You enter through an unmarked door, walk down a long, dim hallway and up a set of stairs into an area filled with bad smells and loud noise. If you’re going to be stranded somewhere, this may not be the best place. The caregivers take frequent breaks to look out the large windows. It isn’t safe or legal, but they’re Americans and believe they can do whatever they want.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie is the author of three recent collections, I’m Not a Robot from Tolsun Books, A Room at the Heartbreak Hotel from Analog Submission Press, and The Titanic Sails at Dawn from Alien Buddha Press.


The Wooden Spoon That Left A Scar

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The wooden spoon has its many uses. Grandma used it to stir the pot as the sweet savory smell of her brown stew wafted through the kitchen door to the hallway. After a hearty meal, I was always waiting for the unknown. This caused all my childhood anxiety. Grandma’s mood – now dark. I winced as the wooden spoon landed on my bare buttocks, smack after smack. I couldn’t sit down. When my teacher found out, I ended up in care. It was very unpleasant. The wooden spoon left more than a scar. I panic each time I see one.

From Guest Contributor Ibukun Sodipe


The Machiavellian Necessities Of A Woman On The New York City Subway

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

For the majority of Deb’s daily commutes, she preoccupied herself with the most strategic seat location choice. She normally picked the open space closest to the door. She didn’t like standing, when it felt like every male gaze pointed her way, or looking for less populated corners, where some old dude would inevitably decide it was cool to plop their sweaty ass right next to her or, sometimes worse, directly across from her.

Being near the exit provided the comfort of knowing she could quickly escape at any stop, should it ever become necessary.

This necessity was a weekly occurrence.



by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The town plow thunders by with its single headlight. You listen with your eyes squeezed shut, imagining the snow that touches everything—sliding under your mudroom door—powder dusting the floor. You’re warm, curled up in an igloo of quilts; yet, your nose feels cold. You know the woodstove burned out after the late news—only a lingering scent of smoke drifts up the backstairs. You wake, uncertain of the hour’s shade of blue, and look up at the white ceiling where a teensy black speck of a spider scales a silver thread, finding its way in this uncompromising dark.

M.J. Iuppa


Sweet Memory

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The girls play hopscotch, the one sister’s hair bounces in rhythm to her skips. She giggles and bends to pick up the rock, balancing her leg in the air. She wins, and they play again and again, until the sky opens, drenching them. Hand in hand they run home with their mouths open tasting rain drops. Entering the house, their mother yells for them to take off their wet sneakers and leave them by the door.

They kick off their sneakers and socks.

In the kitchen there’s the sweet smell of chocolate chip cookies.

Eighty-five-year-old Cindy smiles at the memory.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher


Afternoon Tea Party

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

“Eat this, Mom,” she said, handing me a plastic donut.

“Mmm,” I said, pretending it was delicious. I put it down and asked for more tea. Giggling, she poured air into a pink cup.

Someone pounded on the door.

The pot dropped to the table. I slid our pre-packed bag out from under the bed. She clung to me, like a baby monkey to its mother, and reached for her doll.

The door was giving in. Soon, it’d be off the hinges. I hoped we had enough time. I opened the window and my heart clenched.

The FBI waited below.

From Guest Contributor Bethany Cardwell


The Benefit Of Integrity

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

He sat alone at lunch. The rest of the section gathered near the tea urn to create a susurration of disapproval, which reached for some sort of crescendo which might adequately protest his being promoted without due process.

The manager emerged from her office, paused at the door – interrupting her daily early escape – to absorb, glancing occasionally in his direction. Then she approached – a study in authority.


A sudden gust whipped the vertical blinds inward, toppling a desk tidy perched atop an in-tray filled with unexamined client files. The clatter distracted.

“We’re public servants. They’re entitled. I told them.”

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid


To The Sci-fi Gazette

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The SciFi Gazette–shining beacon of non-cliché speculative fiction. Submission guidelines had listed discouraged themes; ‘dystopias’ were number one: bad news for a pessimist like myself.

The state of the world sank home for me when The Gazette’s most hackneyed theme changed to ‘utopias.’ Still, they never published my bleak predictions.

I’d intended to kick down the door, but it already hung on its hinges. Scattered papers decorated shattered furniture. I luckily bagged a tatty anthology edition for later reading.

The editor was, of course, not there. On her desk, I deposited my latest story. I had high hopes–my first utopia.

From Guest Contributor Tris Matthews



by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

“How many years do you think we’ve known each other?” Zoey asked.

“I dunno, at least since pre-school. We’re both thirty now,” I replied. We walked the cobbled roads of Newburyport. The clouds looked like lines of poetry.

“You go first this time,” Zoey said.

“I like holding the door for you though.”

“Damn it, Tyreke. Why do you always hold the door, and hold the umbrella, and make me coffee? Women can do things you know.”

“I know that.”

“Do you feel you have to protect me, or be a man, or–––“

“I do them because I love you.”

From Guest Contributor Steve Colori


What Happened To Ben?

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

“So, uh, what happened to Ben?”

“Twitter. Once he discovered that, well, he just sort of fell into a black hole.”

“Do you talk to him on Twitter?”

“Oh yeah. All the time.”

“That’s funny. I can’t get him to return my calls. I even went to his house one day and he didn’t answer the door.”

“Just tweet him. He’ll respond.”

“That seems weird. Does he make sense? Talk in complete sentences?”

“He’s hilarious. Same old Ben.”

“Only he’s not really there. He’s just a digital ghost.”

“When you put it that way it just sounds sad.”

“I know.”

From Guest Contributor Dan Slaten