Posts Tagged ‘Food’



by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

First little Amy was stricken, taking three days to die.

After collecting the body, the wardens painted the black cross on the door.

Then her husband and son Mark sickened. She could do nothing for their agonies.

A cart collected them to be buried in the pit.

Now the street is sealed off. No food arrives, and the water is almost gone.

She sneezes twice. She knows this is the end. But what is there to live for?

Thus the pauper Mary Wells died alone in London in 1665, with no priest to console her, no caring God above her.

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 The Ekphrastic Review, Tuck Magazine, 1947 A Literary Journal, Dead Snakes, Schlock! Webzine,, Anotherealm, Under the Bed, A Story In 100 Words, Poems and Poetry, Friday Flash Fiction, and in various anthologies.



by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The oppressive dryness from the onboard heating joins forces with the mid-carriage intensity of the bus engine to agitate my Nor Loch-purchased nausea. I glare up the aisle at the convex miniature of the driver’s face trying not to think of anything stomach-related…or liquid…or food.

My teeth are Publius Horatius at the Sublicius Bridge: facing off against a more dreaded force than that of Clusium.

But bridges span rivers, and the guy next to me sipping spring water from a bottle of ostentatious brand summons images of the Tiber and spilt blood.

Bile breaks through and brings friends.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid


Periplaneta Sapiens

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The rain and wind further eroded the evidence that humans had once
dominated the Earth.

A cockroach scuttled by. Even in the scant thousand years since humans
had disappeared, Darwinian evolution had changed it. The cockroach
held itself on its hind and middle legs, while it’s forelegs
dexterously solved the problem of extracting a morsel of food from a

Another cockroach approached. The two insects greeted each other with
interlocked antennae. Evolution had been at work here too. Their
social interactions more complex and their intelligence greater.

From the ruins of one civilization, an even greater civilization would grow.

From Guest Contributor Ross Clement


The Pesto of Love

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Jasper Bains had not meant to invent a love potion. He had an excess of macadamia nuts and fresh tarragon; it seemed a good idea to make pesto from them.

Every customer of Jasper’s Specialty Foods who bought some returned hand in hand with a new customer. Business was booming.

Jasper spread pesto on crackers and gave them to a frowning brown-haired woman and a young man who’d shot shy glances at her. Eyes met eyes and the winter cold was forgotten.

Jasper’s heart skipped a beat when Genevieve walked in, but he hid the pesto. That would be cheating.

From Guest Contributor Ross Clement


Turning The Tables

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The darkness was like ink, but that did not bother the mouse’s keen eye sight, and smell told him where to go for the food. Its tiny heart was racing with fear because its mortal enemy was out and about as well. He’d lost several of his litter mates to that awful feline beast, but tonight things may be different.

Suddenly there was that awful snarl. Behind him its claws slashing through the air, where he’d been just seconds ago. Twisting and turning, he dodged; suddenly that awful snap of the trap! The cat cried out, the mouse scurried away.

From Guest Contributor Derrick Fernie


Whose Apartment?

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

I rent an apartment that’s above a garage.

But there’s a dog who has made a home for himself in the corner.

He’s without a collar

and needs a bath.

I’m polite, so I don’t say anything.

But he growls as if it’s his apartment!

I explain; I’m paying the rent, so really it’s my apartment, so he needs to accept reality.

He dismisses my argument.

I offer him food and he eats it.

I give him a bath and he goes along with it.

Finally, he licks my face in an apparent suggestion that we become roommates.

I accept.

From Guest Contributor Kent V Anderson

When Kent isn’t writing stories, he is building robots.


Her Recipe

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

With more downs than ups, Francine realized she needed to make a drastic change. To reverse an unfulfilled lifestyle where only food seemed to delight her.

She would find a new recipe. Something appetizing. Fresh. Not too many ingredients for she wouldn’t know how to put it together. Unwanted ones not given a chance. She’d aim for excellence maintaining good judgment in taste. Leave critics aside.

After going through her closets and emerging empty-handed, she looked at a mirror and smiled. Grabbed car keys off a dresser.

She figured out her recipe for happiness.

Clothing stores were not far away.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. Her work has been published at: Nailpolish Stories, 50-Word Stories, 100 word story, 101 Words, Boston Literary Magazine, From the Depths (Haunted Waters Press), ShortbreadStories, and Espresso stories.


The Poet’s Life

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

I sat on the large stone in the middle of the picnic field. I had my notebook out and was busy scribbling away. There were couples and families and dogs and blankets. There was food and sport and laughter and a few tears. The more life unfurled around me, the faster my pencil lurched across the page.

This is the life of the poet. A life of watching. You might call me a mirror, or a tape recorder. I am an instrument.

But life is lived whether we laugh and love our way to death or record others doing it.



by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The sparse landscape spread in every direction. There were mountains to be sure, a flat white one to this left and a glass tower to the right, but there was no food within actual reach.

Jim crawled forward, then back, then to the left and right. An observer might think his path random, but Jim’s instinct told him that the best way to find food was this haphazard approach.

He panicked when the giant approached. Only its torso was visible above the horizon, but Jim went hurdling in the other direction.

He wished he’d never left the hill this morning.


On A Rainy Day

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Twenty years of door keeping had taught me not to be late to work. I started early on a rainy day. Just round the corner, I saw this puppy wet to the bone. I took him home, dried, fed, cuddled and put him in cozy box. I rushed to my work a good thirty minutes late. The big man called me in, fired me from service. I went back home.

Honest loving pair of eyes greeted me with joy. Twenty minutes care had raked such love in him, I felt, my twenty years of service just went down the drain.

From Guest Contributor Thriveni C. Mysore