Posts Tagged ‘Face’
Nov
For The Record
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“She was attractive. Cute face.”
“Facts, please,” the officer cringed, pausing his pen.
“Black-rimmed glasses, plum lipstick and…”
“What was stolen?”
“My cellphone. One minute in my hand. The next, gone.”
A woman was called to the counter by the second officer on duty.
“Reporting a theft,” she announced. “Thief had salt and pepper hair.”
“What was taken?”
“My cellphone.”
The officers compared the complainants with the details given.
“You two realize making false claims is an offence,” one said.
“We can let you go this time,” the other scolded. “Go home and make up or see a marriage counsellor.”
From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs
Krystyna writes poetry, fiction and creative nonfiction regardless of the season or location she finds herself in.
Sep
Note To Self
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I recognized the helmet on the unearthed body as the same customized gear hidden in my private lab. The ancient, scarred face underneath it, not so much. The damage was far too extensive. Even so, I knew.
Words scratched into the metal plate the body clutched remained legible: “Do not activate.” It didn’t specify what, but I knew that, too.
If I press that button in my lab a portal will open to the past. I had decided against the risk.
But now I must do it. I need to find out what could cause me to write that warning.
From Guest Contributor Sean MacKendrick
Sep
Home From War
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I stepped off the bus, my body drenched in sweat. I couldn’t wait to remove my uniform.
I walked the path, the grass greener than I remembered and budding with flowers.
My head ached from the heat, and I needed a bath, but I didn’t think my wife would mind.
There Jane stood, her dress blowing in the breeze, her hair longer, shielding the sun from her face. She screamed my name and ran into my arms.
We enjoyed a passionate kiss that lasted several minutes when she took my hand and led me inside.
The bath would certainly wait.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Aug
The Statue
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The old master carved the tortured limbs and anguished face out of the stone.
Christ on the cross came from his very soul, he who had witnessed war, massacres and the plague that had taken his wife and dearest daughter, his whole life seeming one long crucifixion.
He cursed the God that had forsaken him and the bishop who had commissioned the artifact for the new cathedral. Tired and sick, he died a few days after the statue was completed.
For centuries after his death, visitors stood in awe before his creation that spoke of suffering and, to some, redemption.
From Guest Contributor Ian Fletcher
Aug
Good Boy, Charlie
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Even the dog knew it was a mistake. So much had happened at the lake house, and yet, nothing ever changed. Her father stood at the end of the dock, slouching.
Charlie whined and wagged, as if to say, “Really? Again?!”
“Didn’t think you’d come,” he said.
“I just want her ashes. Then I’ll leave.”
He stared, eyes piercing, his face sharp.
“Your mother wanted to be here.”
“My mother wanted to be safe.”
Jayne released Charlie from his leash. He burst forward, sending her father off the dock.
“Good boy,” Jayne praised Charlie, wiping the water from her face.
From Guest Contributor Kate McGovern
Jul
A Boy I Knew
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
A boy I knew killed a man. Lost his mind. Shaved his head. His face on the news was an open-mouthed scream, soundless. His eyes so round, searching. I whispered to the screen: please blink. I said it like ice in his mouth, like the way he’d look up at stars puncturing the still night sky, the cold air, too many angles of his body pushing out, knees and elbows and chin. I said it without hope. When this boy was mine, he danced and wide-smiled and kissed and laughed. His voice rang out, ethereal, hit the earth like rain.
From Guest Contributor Beth Mead
Jul
Happy Trails
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The wind in the woods sounds like a river. It whispers across my face, soft and sweet and holy.
Dave packs the tent and I roll our bed bags. Soon we’re hoisting packs, tightening straps, stomping the last of the embers from the night before. Remembering bittersweet songs, old stories, and the secrets we’ve left behind with the trees and the stars.
The day warms. A robin twitters. Cicadas hum in the pines. Dave whistles the Happy Trails tune as we start down the path. And so the end begins, and I clutch this small, quiet death in my soul.
From Guest Contributor Jayna Locke
Apr
The Grieving
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The angel of death once thrust his face perilously close to mine. I can still smell his lurid breath when the wind blows across the green scummy water. Although it seems longer ago, it was only last year that he climbed into bed and cuddled with you. The survivors cope as best they can. One walks all around the car and carefully looks under it before getting in. And so I ask him, Whatever happened to the right to be lazy? An 18-month-old slipping under the water when her mother left her unattended in the tub for just a sec.
From Guest Contributor Howie Good
Howie’s newest poetry collection, Heart-Shape Hole, which also includes examples of his handmade collages, is forthcoming from Laughing Ronin Press.
Mar
Blue Lights
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“In the basement?” I throw my face at Sunny. Gosh. I hate him sometimes. “What could you possibly want to show me…in the basement?”
The bulb above us illuminates his smile. “Just open it, Sophie.”
I push the door, and I gasp.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper.
“Yes. Just like you.”
“Where did you get this Sunny? It must have cost a lifetime.”
“You’re worth a million lifetimes, Sophie.”
Tears anoint my cheeks.
“One more thing.” Sunny flicks off the lights. The white dress glows an azure sheen.
He kneels. “Will you marry me?” A ring sparkles in my face.
From Guest Contributor Tom Okafor
Feb
For A Laugh
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Tina sat in the back of a taxi on her phone. She looked up, and her breath caught.
No longer was she staring at the glass partition; instead a bear stared down at her, its black eyes boring into her.
She screamed and threw her phone. It bounced off its head.
It roared, its canines glistening. “Stop!” The bear growled. It shook her, its claws digging into her.
Tina freed her pepper spray and emptied it in the bear’s eyes.
“The hell?” The cabbie screamed, falling to the ground, grabbing his face.
A twisted laugh carried faintly on the wind.
From Guest Contributor Madison Randolph
Madison is a reader by day and a writer by night. Her works have appeared in Friday Flash Fiction, The Drabble, Bright Flash Literary Review, Spillwords, The Chamber Magazine, A Story in 100 Words, Free Flash Fiction, Microfiction Monday as well as 101 Words under the name Ryker Hayes. She resides in Oklahoma with her family and dog Belle where she spends her time sharpening her writing skills and drinking large amounts of coffee. Her works can be found here. She can be found on Instagram @madisonrandolph17