Posts Tagged ‘Eyes’

14
Nov

Reflection

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

I sit by the fireplace in the cabin I rent, sipping steaming tea,
staring at the painting above the mantel.

The woman’s face has a distinct redness to her cheeks and lips. Her deep
brown eyes match the color of her hair which is tied in a bun with one
small red rose tucked behind her left ear, her head tilting ever so
slightly. Her pearl necklace drapes neatly around her neck and she
stands tall, her gown showing off her shapely hips.

There’s no date on the painting or artist signature.

The young woman in the painting is me.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

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

22
Oct

Reasons To Write

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Miguel was seated in front of the word processor, tears running from his eyes. The keys were making their poetic sound. Rhythmically putting letters into words, words into thoughts and ideas that moved things deep within his heart.

“You’re crying again,” Jenny said. “Why do you keep writing?”

“I don’t know,” Miguel replied. “I thought about not writing…”

“You really should.”

“I just think about how dark and painful my life was. Not having any way to get healthier with schizophrenia.” Sitting in the dark Miguel stared into the light. “I can’t leave anyone to fight this on their own.”

From Guest Contributor Steve Colori

19
Oct

The Clock Tower

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The clock tower, situated in the center of the town square, afforded views of the entire valley. No shadow could hide from its rapacious stare.

Townspeople went about their business quietly, all eyes on the ground, hoping to avoid unwanted attention.

Rebecca and Victor met in the churchyard green. They’d yearned for each other since youth, but had never managed to share even kiss. Now might be that moment.

Time stopped. The entire town froze.

When the clock resumed, Rebecca and Victor, despite being certifiably sober, returned to their homes after once again awakening from a stupor under mysterious circumstance.

17
Oct

Corn

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Toxic chemicals from a nearby factory contaminated Mr. Williams farm. Every year sixty-foot tall corn would grow. The farmhouse and barn are not affected and deemed safe.

A cornstalk opens sideways and reveals a mouth and eyes. Its husk legs can move up and down quickly but have a hard time moving forward. It extends its husk to reach for a wagon, but spots a unicycle and grabs that. The giant cornstalk rides towards the house.

Mr. Williams’s wife Ruth hears something and looks out the window, then screams.

“What is it?” her husband asks.

“It’s a unicorn,” says Ruth.

From Guest Contributor Denny E. Marshall

16
Oct

Mistaken Identity

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

“Patricia?”

“Yes, Sir?” replied the student being questioned.

“Wonderful!”

Mr. Griffin gazed at his student’s artwork.

“I improved the charcoal shading,” Patricia beamed. She looked up for
his reaction.

“I mean your dance of the sugar plum fairy was wonderful,” the teacher
clarified.

“It was Delores. Not me.”

“What were you?”

“One of the reindeer.”

Mr. Griffin gazed into the distance. “Delores!” he yelled and
commenced walking towards her.

Patricia’s eyes filled with tears. A few landed on her drawing.
Someone tapped her shoulder.

“Nice picture. You’re a gifted artist,” Paul the student sitting next
to her said.

Patricia smiled.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna is a writer of poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. She
resides in Edmonton, Canada with her husband and stuffed animals.

24
Aug

Stalemate

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Zach’s eyes followed the dirt path as it blended into the trees. Three couples, the latest newlyweds, disappeared in the last month while strolling the serpentine lane. The townspeople wanted something done, and they expected Zach to do it. He was the sheriff, after all.

Zach glanced from side to side, saw faces—some showing fear, others glaring—waiting less patiently with every second that passed.

He rocked from side to side, his palms sweaty, hoping those standing with him would get bored or hungry and leave. The one thing he knew was he wouldn’t be the first to move.

From Guest Contributor Jim Harrington

9
Aug

The Remains

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Stephanie allowed her eyes to adjust as silhouettes gradually manifested in the murkiness of the cabin. Even this deep, the difference between dim ocean floor and the total blackness within the shipwreck was stark.

After a few minutes, she saw the safe’s boxy outline in one corner. Her fingers delicately worked the dial, hoping corrosion had not ruined the mechanism.

Stephanie spied two spotlights through the empty window. The competition. She worked faster without a torch, one of the reasons her employer always came to her first.

The safe opened. Inside: nothing but remains.

The question: Would her pursuers believe?

24
Jul

Last Sunset Before Flagstaff

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Sydnacious Crumb’s “Pick Me a Squirrel,” Grunge’s last anthem, fought through the mountains for spotty FM reception. Too dark now for sunglasses, he rested his eyes on the long stretch of desert between painted rocks and casino frybread. Squinting occasionally, he thought of how this band, or any artist, could create something that was so much better than anything that came before or after. Just as Crumb caught a clear wave and the chorus echoed, “squirrel, squirrel, squirrel,” he saw in the rearview a beam of light. Not quite purple or red, no, it was pink. And then he understood.

From Guest Contributor Adam Axler

Adam is a former New York City paramedic, physician assistant, and is the current owner of online bookstore Collectible Science Fiction.

25
May

The Sandbox

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The days pass, and with each exhale, from nothing, there is formation of something; something new. She kneads Gaia’s dough to create substance; substance from silt. Steadfast, the new titan’s loamy paws fury on, and her reliefs; bring her relief.

Unknown eyes gaze in unease, at the new one, at Poseidon and Hephaestus as one, a little one, a guileless deity of change. Born from the inertia of Chaos, born as something different; different than what was before. The Twelve gaze in unease. Deimos pours another round. In their kylixes, they see moving mountains. It’s time to protect their home.

From Guest Contributor Kyle Malloy