Posts Tagged ‘Face’
Mar
Shades Of Time
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I sat quietly on the exam table pondering my yellow skin. Turning toward the mirror hanging on the wall, I ran my blue fingertips up my slender arm touching the pale face that reflected. Too young for wrinkles I thought. I never liked doctors or hospitals. Maybe that’s why I waited. But after a year of treating my superfluous symptoms, well – it never crossed my mind that it would be too late. That time was limited and colors carried the secret. The doctor wasn’t comforting. My dark brown wide set eyes that glittered with life would soon turn dim.
From Guest Contributor Dana Sterner
Dana is a registered nurse and has written for regional and national healthcare magazines and has been a prior contributor to a A Story in 100 Words.
Oct
Pumpkin Face
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Pumpkins. Melissa hated them. She also hated Halloween.
A classmate called her Pumpkin Face. She knew why. Her face being round, like a pumpkin.
She pretended it didn’t matter but it did. Deeply. She stayed long hours in her bedroom and cried.
Then, something unusual happened. The doorbell rang on Halloween Eve. The name-caller and his parents stood at the front door. Melissa was summoned. She obliged.
The boy apologized for being mean. He handed a decorated bag of candy and wished Melissa a happy Halloween.
The young girl told her parents she could hardly wait to go out Trick-or-Treating.
From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs
Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. Her work has been published at: Nailpolish Stories, 50-Word Stories, 100 word story, 101 Words, Boston Literary Magazine, From the Depths (Haunted Waters Press), ShortbreadStories, SixWordMemoirs, and Espresso Stories.
Sep
I See
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I paint you by numbers, capture your features one by one… from the fair Irish skin; to the coal-black hair; to the rich, ruby lips; and the fiery-, emerald-green eyes.
I reach for the palette of paint and thrust my brush like a mop into a bucket and swish it around. The color washes your face with only shades of grey. The numbers on the canvas do not add up. I am left only with a monotone portrait of shadow and sadness.
Betrayed, my grip clenches. I see, I know your colors. I see, I know your lack of them.
From Guest Contributor Keith Hoerner
Sep
Cramming For Midterms
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Back against the wall, arms at my sides, and my heart pounding in my throat and toes, I closed my eyes and let him explore the soft wetness of lips, the tight reluctance of tongue. My fingernails dug into my thighs, the way love, or maybe obsession, forces its way into the folds of your brain, seeping into your consciousness and taking over everything you thought you knew about yourself.
I surrendered, flat, still, and unendingly insecure. I hated him.
He caressed my hair and my face. The ground gave way, an unexpected and fragile molehill, and I found myself.
From Guest Contributor Stacy Gorse
Aug
Whose Apartment?
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I rent an apartment that’s above a garage.
But there’s a dog who has made a home for himself in the corner.
He’s without a collar
and needs a bath.
I’m polite, so I don’t say anything.
But he growls as if it’s his apartment!
I explain; I’m paying the rent, so really it’s my apartment, so he needs to accept reality.
He dismisses my argument.
I offer him food and he eats it.
I give him a bath and he goes along with it.
Finally, he licks my face in an apparent suggestion that we become roommates.
I accept.
From Guest Contributor Kent V Anderson
When Kent isn’t writing stories, he is building robots.
Jul
Eyes Everywhere
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The woman limped slowly down the street, a pained look on her face, looked twice, and dropped an envelope inside a mail drop box. She felt a vibration in her pocket, checked her phone, and promptly gave a one-finger salute to the overhead sun.
Incoming Text 2:34PM: At 2:32PM, Sheila George took Orwell Street, favoring her left leg from a prior injury. At post office drop box #019840 deposited a letter addressed to her mother, Ann George. Contents are to be determined.
Incoming Text 2:36PM: Obscene gestures made to Patriot Security Surveillance Devices will result in a fine of $200.
From Guest Contributor Matt Turner
Mar
Our Understanding
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Will you wait for me? I was distracted in the company of voices. Remembered you when I realized the time.
I race, feet positioning haphazardly over cobblestone. Last narrow lane weaves through a city’s historic gate, connects me to the main square where I met you yesterday. Where pigeons scrambled for tossed seeds. Tourists watched.
I see you in the same location with the sun setting behind you. Your body pivots, face gestures into countless expressions. Your hands deliver a new story, in silence.
When you see me, your eyes smile. For you know I understand your art of pantomime.
From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs
Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. Her fiction and poetry have recently been published online and in journals at: Nailpolish Stories, 50-Word Stories, 100 word story, A Story in 100 Words, 101 Words, From the Depths (Haunted Waters Press), ShortbreadStories, and espresso stories. Her nonfiction has appeared in flash fiction chronicles and in Wild Lands Advocate. Krystyna resides in Alberta, Canada.
Jul
A Stubborn Speck
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The elevator doors close with a ding. Alone inside, she hums and checks the mirror. The speck on her cheek looks unsightly, like a coal mine bent forward and kissed her.
She pulls out a tissue from her bag, and dabs at it. No luck. Nagging speck, like someone spit tar on to her face. Two more tissues, nothing.
The skin around it is reddening. Three more tissues, one after another. She’s getting restless as her floor draws near.
The seventh tissue does the trick. Someone from behind was kind enough to hand it to her.
The elevator doors open.
From Guest Contributor, Indu Pillai
Indu is a commercial writer based in Bangalore. Her fiction has appeared in Mash Stories and 50-Word Stories. She delights in all kinds of stories, written and unwritten. Twitter: @InduPillai01
Jul
Confession
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I did it. I killed her in cold blood. I hesitated at first, but she finally got on my nerves.
She tickled my ears, sat on my lap, and touched my private body parts. I asked her to stop but she kept going.
I slapped her in the face. She dropped onto the floor at once. Her skinny, crooked legs twitched a few times in utter disbelief and then she went silent. I picked her up, dropped her dead body in the garbage can, washed my hands, and went back to work.
My office is a “No-Fly Zone.” No exceptions.
From Guest Contributor, Olga Klezovitch
Olga is a scientist who lives in Seattle. Her previous work has appeared in 50-Word Stories and Necon E-Books.