Posts Tagged ‘Family’
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
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
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.
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.
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
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
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
Apr
Cowboy
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Billy had never been drunk before. That’s why he didn’t feel much pain.
The stars above were bright.
The runt of the family, he’d run off from the farm and joined the ranchers. They had gone to the saloon.
The strumpet at the bar had smiled at him. After his seventh whisky she winked.
Billy felt like a man. He was somebody.
“Move over boy,” the stranger said.
Billy stood his ground. There were words, then the challenge.
Outside, Billy got shot in the chest. Alone, he lay dying.
Tomorrow they would bury him. A nobody in a nobody’s grave.
From Guest Contributor Ian Fletcher
Ian is originally from South Wales. He studied English Literature at Oxford University many years ago. He currently lives in Taiwan with his family and is a high school teacher there. He has also been a freelance writer for over 12 years, writing articles for Taiwanese educational textbooks. He has had short stories published in various genres on Short-story.me, Schlock! Webzine, Schlock! Bi-Monthly, Anotherealm, Under the Bed, and in anthologies by Horrified Press and Rogue Planet Press. He is an Affiliate Member of the Horror Writers Association.
Apr
Say Cheese
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
We hoped the bad dog was gone. We couldn’t put off seeing our daughter’s family in upstate New York but they had a mean pit bull who they said was as gentle and loved kids.
He was gentle as long as my daughter or son-in-law were around but the minute they left the room he’d look at us, bare his teeth and growl in defiance.
Last visit I took a picture of that look on my cell and showed it to my daughter as proof positive to bolster our fear.
“Isn’t my Bruno cute?” She said. “He’s smiling at you.”
From Guest Contributor Paul Beckman
Mar
Paddy
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The man who brought hope amongst the riots: whom bitter losers rushed to associate with terrorism; rather than defence of very frightened people who were let down by establishment they had long trusted. Scum associated him with terrorism, when all he strove to protect family and neighbours.
He adored Martin Luther King. Poisonous painted him with the hate they retained because he shamed them.
All the family were burying was a father who wanted peace and took steps to achieve and promote that.
I was there at the burial of a man who loved people, no matter who they hated.
From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid