Posts Tagged ‘Face’

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

31
Oct

Echo Of Time

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

I watched the child in the blue sweatshirt jump in the leaves, laughing. What a delight to have heard the echo of his chortle as I sat with the cool autumn breeze against my face. I had my novel opened at the same page for the last fifteen minutes, my eyes focused on the fair-haired boy.

He plopped down, waved his hands through the leaves and looked at the clear sky.

I closed my book and lifted myself up with my cane.

The boy had gone and all I saw were leaves blowing in the park.

That boy was me.

From Guest Contributor Lisa Scuderi-Burkimsher

23
Oct

Gravity

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

A panhandler with the woeful face of a Christian martyr in a medieval painting stops me outside the discount liquor store. He says he needs two more bucks to get a bottle. Marlene, he adds as if I know her, is resting with a beer and the dude that shot her whose nickname is Rabbit. Has anyone asked us how we see things? No! We’re all on the road. But now it’s really getting fun. I dig some change out of my pocket. There are only so many opportunities to take maximum advantage of gravity’s pull on people and objects.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

15
Oct

The Eve Before Halloween

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The eve before Halloween I visit Melissa’s gravesite and place a
bouquet of yellow roses against her stone. She’d be thirty years old
today. The cemetery is empty, and the rain is cold against my face, but
I am here.

“Hi, Sweetie. In honor of your favorite holiday, I’m having a Halloween
party and celebrating your birthday tomorrow. I wish you could be here,”
I say, tearing. I walk to my car briskly, the umbrella inside out from
the wind.

The rain becomes heavy and when I drive off, the petals of the roses
blow in front of my car.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

17
Aug

Futile Gestures

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Leslie struck at the hand as it approached her face.

“Don’t touch me.”

“There’s a leaf in your hair.”

“I can take care of myself.”

Steven remembered when they cared for each other. He’d cook dinner on nights she got home late. She packed a lunch when he had fieldwork, a chocolate bar hidden at the bottom of the bag.

Those thoughtful gestures became less frequent as the fights occurred more often. She perceived every request as an assault on her freedom. She likely had her own side, but he’d stopped caring long ago.

Steven walked away without another word.

5
Jun

Unexpected

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Lucy turned up the car radio. It was their song and it reminded her of his soft touch on her body and the warmth of his breath on her face. Jim was taken too soon from an unexpected illness and the pain jabbed at her heart. She longed to hear his laughter and see his big dimples. His family didn’t approve of their relationship. She was older, divorced and not Catholic. But they were in love.

Lucy drove up the driveway and rubbed her stomach. How would she tell a family that disliked her that Jim would’ve been a father?

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

4
Jun

The Man On The Stair

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

It wanted my attention!

An icy breath of air hit me in the face, whispering something in my left ear.

I looked up at the staircase, narrow and active, only to see its black hair dangling over the banister, and its face blank.

I froze yet was intrigued.

Am I going mad?

I called out to it, “Who are you?”

Then it was gone.

I started to think it was the same thing that “pushed” the towels off the banister, even damp ones!

I called him “the towel man.”

I am a “skeptic on the turn,” although he’s long gone.

From Guest Contributor Tanya Fillbrook

28
Mar

Folded Flag

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

She stood in the snow holding a single white carnation facing the cold wall of names. She whispered, turning to the man beside her, “Sir, do you host other events here?”

The man nodded, gently replying, “Would you like to book a reservation for one?”

“Yes, a wedding. But the groom resides here.” She placed the carnation on the ground and caressed the engraved words before her. Evan Perry.

“Not a problem.” He whispered, placing his hand on her shoulder.

“He said he’d come back.” Soon the tears she had held back then flowed down her face, “I’ve been waiting.”

From Guest Contributor Jasmine Som

As a paleo-vegan, Jasmine loves dehydrating fruits to take with her when she hikes. While others stalk celebrities, she looks up new recipes to get creative with. Sadly, cooking with her heavy cast iron pots has her taking on a new workout routine that includes a weight lifting regimen.

16
Feb

Surfing

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

He enviously watched the surfers ride the waves. Their sharp turns and steady footing made him feel shame at this own failed attempt on the water.

A small boy of no older than twelve maneuvered gracefully on a wave that would have had him running for the safety of the beach. A group of people enthusiastically cheered and clapped for the boy, who had a large grin on his face and pumped his fist in the air.

He watched this for a moment before angrily getting up from the sand and walking away vowing to get back on his board.

From Guest Contributor Zane Castillo

7
Feb

Lipstick Car Wreck

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Finally alone, you open your coat in the snow
Revealing the soft hum of your pilot light
Living, walking to the water’s edge
To pray for river’s cleanse
the water is polluted with reflection
So you run, you always do, into an idle
car on the street outside
Of where you need to be, you’ve circled around
3 times already (you’re not getting any more inside)
and drive, flood down the avenue to the last bridge
Left erect from burned out comings-alive
switch, from automatic to manual
Stop self-correcting let it careen
A smile like wreckage smears across your face

From Guest Contributor Wyatt Martin