Posts Tagged ‘Family’

13
Jun

Happier Times

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Lindsey searched the attic for old family photos. Her dad had just passed away from Alzheimer’s and she wanted to make a collage for the funeral. Through dust and cobwebs she came across the box. She found the photo of her and her dad when she was five-years-old. The Ferris wheel was scary to her young eyes.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be with you to hold your hand.” She heard her dad’s voice.

She pressed the picture close to her chest. Then she placed the picture in the pile of memories she’d cherish from happier times before his disease took him.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

27
Apr

The Sea At Night

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Dana wasn’t allowed to walk the beach alone, even in broad daylight. Her parents never gave a reason, but she’d heard them whispering about the men who lived in the sea.

Late at night, when her family was asleep, Dana would wade out into the surf. She’d dig up sand dollars and watch the moonlight refract through the water. She had never been hindered by fear of the unknown.

When the sea men came for her, Dana did not scream. Perhaps this was what she wanted all along. She would not miss her family. She would not miss the earth.

26
Sep

Old Mrs. Meyer

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Johan returns with the potatoes for lunch. Mrs. Meyer, who lives opposite, opens her door. Though he’s eleven, the kind old lady still gives him candy.

However, seeing the two Gestapo officers with her, Johan hides.

“My father was German,” she says.

“The Reich is grateful,” they reply.

Soldiers arrive. Knocking down their front door, they drag out his parents and the family in the attic.

“Jew-loving Dutch swine!” says a soldier, spitting at his father.

Johan never sees them again.

His eyes meet Mrs. Meyer’s, peering out from between her curtains.

He never forgets her look of triumphant malice.

From Guest Contributor Ian Fletcher

Born and raised in Cardiff, Wales, Ian has an MA in English from Oxford University. He has had poems and short stories published in Schlock! Webzine, 1947 A Literary Journal, Dead Snakes, Short-story.me, Anotherealm, Under the Bed, A Story In 100 Words, Poems and Poetry, Friday Flash Fiction, and in various anthologies.

19
Sep

What Is Written

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

At age two, baby Suresh miraculously wrote the words yes and no on to foggy glass. His family gathered in awe around him wondering if he would write again, maybe?

With pencils, chalk, twigs in sand he wrote the words over and over.

What divinity was this, what genius? No one had taught him. Being pious people, his parents immediately told the household servants that all future decisions, big or small, would be made by baby Suresh.

“Please,” said Chef, “tonight shall I cook chicken or lamb?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” baby’s mother snapped. “He can only answer yes or no.”

From Guest Contributor Faiza Bokhari

13
Sep

Family Showdown

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The father grabbed his son’s attention away from his overbearing mother and said, “Go now before it gets too late or you’ll miss her. If you let this young lady get away you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. It makes no difference whether your mother will accept her or not. Here, take this money and my credit card and get going now.”

The boy responded, “Dad, I don’t want your money, only you’re blessing.”

The dad, somewhat choked up, said, “My dear son, you already had my admiration. My blessing is freely given to you with joy.”

From Guest Contributor James Freeze

17
Aug

There Hangs The Sword

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

There hangs the sword, the one handed down from father, to son, to me, the symbol of my family, the defender of our home, the weapon that has slain hundreds, that fought for our homeland in the long war, and struck fear into our enemies, the blade that was retired but never allowed to dull, that was laid to rest but never sheathed, that was put on display as a reminder to all future interlopers this house will forever be vigilant, there is the sword even now, still hanging there, as I slowly bleed out on the floor below it.

24
Jun

Old Flame At A Party

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

“Long time no see,” she says tipsily, introducing me to a ‘Rick.’ There’s tension between them, something’s not quite right.

Though remaining a looker, she doesn’t turn heads anymore.

I was too dull for her then, with my monogamy, my love of poetry. Chatting, I mention I still like T.S. Eliot, and have a family.

“Oh, settled down, have we?” she says, her tongue as sharp as ever, yet I sense an envy beneath the sarcasm.

“Well, I’m not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be,” I quote, a certain satisfaction in my self-deprecation, when bidding these lost souls goodnight.

From Guest Contributor Ian Fletcher

Ian studied English Literature at Oxford University many years ago. He has had short stories published in various genres in Schlock! Webzine, Schlock! Bi-Monthly, Short-story.me, Anotherealm, Under the Bed, A Story In 100 Words, Friday Flash Fiction, and in anthologies by Horrified Press and Rogue Planet Press. He is an Affiliate Member of the Horror Writers Association.

13
Jun

Neglect

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Lichen and moss had made their home on the intricately carved headstone while a ravenous community of ivy sought to embrace it.

The man wondered who Charlotte was. All the superficial dedications were there, though the surname was hidden. Who had she been? Was there no family to visit and maintain the plot…or did they believe in allowing it to age as naturally as their progenitor?

He crouched and pulled back some of the thicker growth from the bottom.

“…leaving behind…”

He read the names. One was unusual, like Gran’s.

He brushed ivy aside.

The surname was his own.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid

27
May

The Land

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Matthew leaned against the chain-link fence and looked out at the land which had once been his family’s land. Now a housing development was being built on it where the bountiful trees had once stood.

He had listened to his grandmother talk about that piece of land as if it was a fantasy that she could never quite believe was real. He sold it immediately after his father’s death.

Overcome with guilt and shame he stood there next to the fence for a while trying to remember what the land looked like years before but he just couldn’t picture it.

From Guest Contributor Zane Castillo

10
May

Blood In The Dirt

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The man strolled to the saloon, thinking about what he had done and what he would do now. His family had been killed and thanks to him their murderers were dead too. Revenge had been his life from the time he was fourteen.

He pushed his way up to the bar. He ordered a whiskey and sipped it.

A drunk yelled at him to pull his gun; it didn’t matter why to him.

He said, “Not here,” and he walked into the street.

The drunk followed.

“I’ll see you all soon,” the man muttered as his tears fell. “Now draw!”

From Guest Contributor Dylan Baker