Posts Tagged ‘Face’
Aug
Irony
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I’m very excited to announce the winner of our Hubris Flash Fiction Contest, from regular contributor Lisa Scuderi-Burkimsher. I hope that winning doesn’t go to her head!
Congratulations Lisa! And thank you to everyone who submitted to the contest. It was difficult picking just one.
Bill combed his hair, gave a thumbs up to his reflection in the mirror and then left.
He walked with a swagger and passing bystanders cussed him.
“It’s a pandemic, wear a mask, idiot,” yelled an irate man from across the street.
Bill flipped him the finger and continued.
When he arrived at his cousin’s barbecue, he was stopped at the back gate.
“You can’t come in here without a mask,” said his cousin, Mark.
“Come on, man, I never get sick.”
Mark slammed the gate in his face.
Bill stood for a moment before walking away and then sneezed.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Jun
Consequences
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
My fate had been decided and I’m not sorry. The hunger in the pit of my stomach was more important than the consequences. When I barreled my fist into the man’s face and he fell to the ground motionless, I took the bread with my sore, bloody knuckles and ran. Within a day, the sheriff apprehended me.
I’m trapped in a cold, dank, cage, with crawling rats as my friends. I’ve heard other prisoners declaring innocence and then silence.
The sheriff led me outside to a chanting crowd, hands tied tightly behind me, to the noose that awaits my neck.
From Guest Contributor Lisa Scuderi-Burkimsher
Mar
Confessions
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Did she hear right?
The curtains are parted. It is naked black in the bedroom except for a slice of light exposing one hazel eye, the outline of his angular face. Clare knows how soft that eye-brow is to touch and how it is to be in the centre of that dark gaze.
Moving to the window, she peers outside: they will never be two names chiselled into a hill, hewn into rock. For months she wished she was that whisper of sunlight on his face. That and no more.
‘I’m married,’ Mike repeats.
‘I heard you. So am I.’
From Guest Contributor Louise Worthington
Oct
Boss
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The dog was known as Boss by the Belfast housing estate kids. They heard harsh scratching as he desperately tried to crawl away from his tormentor, his muzzle leaving a dark trail of blood from where the first round had hit him in the face. His life trickled away from him through the short grey hairs on his jaw; an occasional desperate snarl ripping apart the cold morning air before he began whimpering again like a child.
Lining up the rifle sight, his tormentor watched the heaving chest, pressed the trigger and the pavement was awash with blood and fur.
From Guest Contributor Bernie Hanvey
Jun
Drowning Memories
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Alex listened to the waves crashing against the shoreline while seagulls flew above, searching for prey. The sun beamed on his face and he wished he had worn a hat.
He walked the beach, the hot sand stinging his toes. Boats sailed in the distance and he wondered what it would feel like to be free of land, but that thought dissipated. His mind shifted to when he almost drowned and his father pulled him from the water shouting his name, punching his chest until he spit up.
His father was now the one drowning, of a disease called cancer.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Apr
Foot Steps
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Becky was halfway across her pottery studio when she heard the deadbolt click. She froze.
She escaped a mugging three months ago, but it cost a prize dish. She broke the pottery piece on his face. Blood gushed everywhere and his screams still haunt her at night. Hours flipping through mug shots at the police station yielded no suspects. That was it. Except she had this eerie feeling she was being followed. A lot. She had been more than careful until now. She didn’t lock the door when she entered the studio. The sound of footsteps came in her direction.
From Guest Contributor NT Franklin
Mar
Emptiness
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Toniann held her infant daughter close to her chest. She hummed and rocked looking at her tiny eyelids, gently pressing her face against baby’s fragile skin.
The nurse came in to take her, but Toniann pleaded for a few more minutes. She loved the feel of her small body in her arms.
Kurt gently reached to remove the baby from Toniann’s arms. “Honey, it’s time to let the nurse take her.”
Toniann struggled at first, but then released her daughter into the hands of her husband. Emptiness filled her heart.
She’d never feel the soft touch of her daughter again.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
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
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
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