Posts Tagged ‘Face’
Dec
Corpus Delicti
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Every day there’s a funeral – actually, several. You peer into the open casket and immediately regret it. I have that kind of face. There has just always been something about me that provokes people to anger and upset. “Hitler should come back and gas you!” they would yell, as if the very idea of me threatened them. An unknown caller once even left a series of gunshots on my voicemail. Now I’m being lifted off the bier and swiftly carried down the aisle and out the door. A desolate rain is falling. I don’t remember a time when it wasn’t.
From Guest Contributor Howie Good
Howie’s newest book, Frowny Face, a synergistic mix of his prose poetry and handmade collages, is forthcoming from Redhawk Publications.
Nov
The Whimsical Sun
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
It always rained where I lived, and the sun never showed its face. January to December: an encore of relentless grey days.
Sometimes during the summer break, when the gray became unbearable, my mother allowed me a night’s stay at my best friend’s house next door.
There at her place, we would play late into the night and there was always an abundance of hot chocolate and stories to go around. Late mornings, while we were still in bed, her father used to roll up the clacking blinds, and tiny motes of dust danced in the sun, just like magic.
From Guest Contributor E. Rhyme
Nov
Pizza
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Bill picked mushroom slices off the boxed pizza, grimacing, stacking them.
Sadie watched. “What’s wrong, Honeybun?”
“Mushrooms. They don’t belong on pizza. My ex-wife knew that. They’re like human ears.” Bill shuddered.
“Sorry!” Sadie sniffled, blue eyes pooling on her freckled face.
“Don’t be a baby.”
She was 20. Their infant son lay in the bedroom, drooling on Bill’s pillow, fitful with eczema. His ex Patsy, thinner now, lived in her own divorce trailer, screwing her burly handyman. Grown kids, not speaking to Bill. Everyone, broken. Bill sighed at the pile of ears. “Growing you up, it takes time, Sadie.”
From Guest Contributor Nicole Brogdon
Nicole is a trauma therapist in Austin TX, interested in strugglers and stories everywhere. Her flash fiction appears in Flash Frontier, Bending Genres, 101Words, Bright Flash, Dribble Drabble Review, Centifictionist, and elsewhere.
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