Posts Tagged ‘Father’
Sep
Rider Of The Wind
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Daylight spills over the trees, onto bones in our yard. A wind rattles the forest. We tense with fear. Before, we tended gardens, chopped wood, prepared for the next season. Now, we turn our homestead into a church, with crucifixes everywhere.
The minister won’t come.
We string garlic from the eaves, board our windows.
The wind steals our breath.
Father announces a plan. At dusk, as bait, I stand among animal and human bones. Behind me, through the cracked door, father points his rifle, waiting to shoot.
Inside the house, mother mourns her dead children.
Overhead, something rides the wind.
From Guest Contributor Russell Richardson
Russell has written and published many short stories, illustrated a book of poetry, and created children’s books to benefit kids with cancer. His YA novel, Level Up and Die! was published in April of 2021. He lives with his wife and sons in Binghamton, NY, the carousel capital of the world.
Mar
The Get Together
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Today is a very special day for my mom and me. Today we are going to meet with our father after a long time. I am very excited for it. But the meeting period is very short, just 10 minutes.
Mr. Morgan was waiting for us. He was the medium through which we are going to talk with him. Yes, we are going to do planchette.
My mom and I haven’t talked with him since the day we both died in a road accident a year ago that my father survived!!!!
It’s really a special day for both of us.
From Guest Contributor Prapti Gupta
Mar
My Father
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
My father says it’s okay to be scared, but now it’s time to be brave. I trust and look up to him, so when he tells me to hide under the floorboard because the Nazis are coming, I do so.
There’s banging at the front door, and then it bursts open. Footsteps and yelling are what I hear. My legs are cramped and I’m sweating from my forehead to my cheeks.
My father is crying, pleading with the Nazis and I feel helpless hiding. I want to show myself, but I’m too frightened.
Gunshot, thump, silence.
My father is dead.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Jan
A Poverty Of Love
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The guests looked on with complete bewilderment as my future parents exchanged what sounded like ironic wedding vows. Afterwards at the reception, a farmer sang about his favorite crop and then it was the best man’s turn to speak. He had barely begun when my father interjected, “Spare us your life philosophy.” The wailing that arose might have been especially invented for the end of the world. Everything was burning. People, drapes, carpets, tablecloths – everything. In years to come, my brothers and I would pick through the blackened ruins. Haven’t you ever noticed that only the poor have dirty hands?
From Guest Contributor Howie Good
Howie’s latest full-length poetry collection, Gun Metal Sky, is due in early 2021 from Thirty West Publishing
Dec
Tire Chains
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“I’m packing tire chains in the boys’ luggage. Just wrap them around the tires,” the father of my two nephews advised.
“Sounds easy.” I reply. “We’ll have fun in the snow!”
Three days later, my nephews and I are standing by the snow-laden roadside with tire chains wrapped around the axle.
We look forlorn and lost. A park ranger passes by, a CHP passes by, and a dozen travelers glance at a young woman and two children in distress.
“Lady? Need some help?” says a tatooed Hell’s Angel over the roar of his Harley.
“Please! You are an angel. Thanks.”
From Guest Contributor Deborah Shrimplin
Oct
Hurt
by thegooddoctor in Uncategorized
“We’re joined today by the great Cuban émigré slugger Robinson Falco Villegas, Jr.”
“Hola.”
“Robby, rather than talk about your recent injury, why don’t you tell us why you and your father were named after Jackie Robinson?”
“I wasn’t named after him. I was named after the great irascible poet, Robinson Jeffers. I learned English so I could read his poems.”
“I didn’t know that. Can you quote your favorite lines?”
“I’d prefer to paraphrase.”
“If it makes you more comfortable, go right ahead.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, go for it.”
“Were it not for penalties, you’d be dead now.”
From Guest Contributor Clyde Liffey
Oct
Beauty Of Life
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Walking through the park’s garden, the fresh scent of grass and flowers soothes me. The leaves are slowly blowing in the breeze and the chipmunks race around the path.
Children are laughing and playing baseball while their parents proudly watch, and it reminds me of my own childhood summers, playing catch with my friends while my father coached us on our throws.
I wish I could go back and be young again, but I can’t change time. I’m elderly, brittle and fortunate to be able to walk at my age.
This is why I’m thankful for the beauty of life.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Sep
Hawaiian Music
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Before the visit to Florida, Jesse told him Elan was Hawaiian instead of black. You would think it shouldn’t matter but that would mean you didn’t know his father. During Katrina, people trying to survive, he couldn’t shut up on the phone of “the animals down there.” His take on Obama was that he was an “affirmative-action baby.”
They hadn’t been in the house fifteen minutes. His father had always loved music, especially classical, so he dropped that in, that Elan played the violin, string quartet.
His father handed Elan his old portable radio.
“Play something for me,” he said.
From Guest Contributor Jon Fain
Sep
The Office Visit
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
In his office at the university, Professor Kudrow pounds on the computer keyboard. His research paper needs a rewrite, his ex-wife wants more child support and he feels a migraine coming on. He wants to go home and get drunk.
His grad student, James, appears in the doorway with an older gentleman.
After introductions, James’ father confronts the professor.
“My son paid you for a better grade, didn’t he? Don’t lie to me. I have documents.”
The professor froze.
“Your silence is proof enough.”
He turns to his son, “My son, a thief and cheat! I’m reporting both of you.”
From Guest Contributor Deborah Shrimplin
Aug
On Being A Man
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
HUBRIS CONTEST:
His backhand caused her body to pirouette grotesquely before landing face down on the coffee table.
Wincing, she rolled off the table, and sat up, mopping blood futilely from her mouth with the back of her right hand.
“Aren’t ya proud o’ me, workin’ all night?” he whined.
Unblinking, she nodded.
Then, the boy, who’d learned what a man was from his father, brought the cast iron pan onto the back of his father’s head with a sound like a loud wet kiss.
The man slid to the ground gracefully.
Beaming at her son, she said, “Now that’s a man!”
From Guest Contributor Jody Lehrer