Posts Tagged ‘Eyes’

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

26
Apr

Ireland’s Descent

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Niamh clambered down the rocks, grasping grass to ensure balance. Her eyes widened with adoration each time she peered over her shoulder espying tides crashing carelessly against bustling coral. To others it was an empty beach clinging to the base of Irish pastures, but to Niamh her struggle over the roughened pebbles opened the gates of Eden.

Her lens captured what she saw; pulsating amber beasts clinging to years of compressed life, silvery fish darting around with grand families and crabs working hard, hunting. Emerald weeds flowed through natural pools capturing the life of the sun. Images she trapped forever.

From Guest Contributor Kerry Kelly

27
Feb

Rabid

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.

22
Nov

The Widow’s Cat

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

I found a black widow shaking in the bedroom, sitting in the morning sun on the windowsill. She was mumbling the rosary in a small, desperate whine, like a faraway train trying to stop. Through a lace veil, draped over her head and the top of her abdomen, I could see the silhouette of the little beads slipping methodically through her jointed forelegs. She became still and silent and turned to me, her eyes, two rows of four, clouded and quivering. A tiny tear dripped off the end of her fang.

“Don’t worry,” I told her, “there is no Cat.”

From Guest Contributor Brook Bhagat

Brook’s non-fiction, humor, poetry, and fiction have appeared in Little India, Dămfīno, Nowhere Poetry, Rat’s Ass Review, Peacock Journal, and other journals and anthologies. She has completed a full-length hybrid manuscript, is writing a novel, and is the co-owner and chief editor of BluePlanetJournal.com. She holds an MFA from Lindenwood University and teaches creative writing at a community college.

8
Nov

The Reading

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The flashing sign blinds Marissa’s eyes. The door says enter, and she pushes it open with a sigh.

“Please sit,” says the woman in flamboyant blue and green gypsy clothes. “I assume you want a reading.”

“Yes, good and bad.”

The woman takes Marissa’s right hand and reads her palm. “I don’t see a future for you. There will be no success or love in your life. You will die tragically and without warning.”

Marissa jolts in her chair. “I’m not up to this. Here’s your money.”

Anxious and distracted, Marissa doesn’t see the car coming. She dies on impact.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

6
Nov

The Death Of Tales

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The mist glistens with false promises. The canopy drips blood of myriad misled bards vanquished by the Mediocre tribe.

The incantation echoes through the rain forest, causing even lianas to cringe. “We have decided not…”

The shaman feels tears slow to a reticent trickle from still-closed eyes. His heart freezes with horror, sharp mind balking from interpretation.

“Vates!”

It takes a moment to understand he is being addressed.

Lids snap open. “Yes?”

“Did the Mystic Mushroom bring wisdom?” The bard asks, handing him a bowl of spring water.

Cathbad rises from the straw bed. “No, Carolan, a warning of ignorance.”

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid

2
Nov

Last Night

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Still tired, I wake in the darkness. In the distance, I hear a train and the rumble of traffic. I strain for the sound of your soft breathing next to me. An aeroplane passes overhead, now I hear the humming of the refrigerator. Eyes closed, I can feel the heat of you an arm’s length away; just an arm’s length. I reach out to touch you; I hear the angry hiss. Still not forgiven. My heart turns to stone when I glimpse your fury through clenched fingers. Everything turns to stone, hard stone. Hard words echo in the night air.

From Guest Contributor David Rae