Posts Tagged ‘Glass’
Jan
A Broken Glass
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Flour, salt and baking powder. Margaret whips up a cake recipe as familiar as her own name. The whirring of the stand mixer comforts her.
Her mind drifts to Karl. They were late to an appointment. Brakes squeal. An impact. Karl’s head shatters the windshield.
As she pours the batter, a glass rises off the counter, picked up by an unseen hand. It hovers suspended in the air, the ceiling light fixture reflected inside.
Or is it Karl’s face?
Margaret does not move or breathe. The glass falls.
Broken shards cover the tile floor.
The glass, like Karl, is gone.
From Guest Contributor Heather Santo
Dec
Christmas Surprises
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Kristy lights the Christmas tree, the glass ornaments glistening in the room. The freshly lit candle gives a warm aroma and the fireplace crackles. They tried for two years to conceive and today she received the wonderful news from the doctor.
Dinner is in the oven, and Kristy is wearing her best red sleeveless dress for the occasion. She sits near the fireplace and listens to the flickering flames, the sound soothing her nervous excitement.
She hears the key in the door and runs to the kitchen.
Cuddled in her husband’s arms is a tiny sleeping puppy.
Another Christmas surprise.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Jun
Gordon Perkins, Analyst
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
NATURE SUBMISSION:
Gordon drummed his pen listlessly as he stared out the window. From his office on the 24th floor, it was possible to see a sliver of ocean, but only when pressed against the glass. Here at his desk, all that was visible was the building across the street, a grey brick affair more depressing than his cubicle.
The plant on Gordon’s desk was equally as depressed, drooping over the edge of the pot, three detached brown leaves huddled in the corner. They both needed the same cure. Sunlight and soil.
Instead, Gordon returned to the spreadsheet open on his desktop.
From Guest Contributor Stanley Dutt
Jun
Neighbors
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Everett was swinging back and forth on his porch enjoying a glass of iced tea, sweet tea, watching the annual 4th of July parade make its way past the little house he’d lived in all his life.
Everything he understood about history he’d learned watching that parade go up that road.
Here came local girls twirling pretend wooden rifles in front of the marching band from over at the white high school.
Back when Everett was young, girls, black and white, twirled batons. But the world today was meaner. Neighbors didn’t even try anymore. Or so it seemed to Everett.
From Guest Contributor Brian Beatty
Brian is the author of four poetry collections: Borrowed Trouble; Dust and Stars: Miniatures; Brazil, Indiana: A Folk Poem; and Coyotes I Couldn’t See. Beatty lives in Saint Paul, Minnesota.
Jun
Nature
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
NATURE SUBMISSION:
I watch the red cardinal swoop from tree to tree and chirp in unison with the other birds while flapping its wings. The air is crisp and the sun abundant. The breeze gives a slight chill, so I wrap a scarf around my neck and continue planting.
The sun begins to fade, and the birds disappear into the sky. I wipe my forehead and remove the gardening gloves.
As I sit with my feet up sipping a cold glass of water, I say a silent prayer that the pandemic ends, and we are free as the birds flying this earth.
From Guest Contributor Lisa Scuderi-Burkimsher
Jun
The Natural In Nature
by thegooddoctor in Uncategorized
NATURE SUBMISSION:
“It’s all natural,” Kathy tells Gordon, her teenaged son. “We don’t use pesticides.”
She tears lettuce into bite-size pieces. Radishes lie on the chopping board next in line for the salad.
“But chemicals can fall from rain,” replies Gordon. He fills a glass with filtered water.
Bruno, seen through a window, is crouching between rows of spinach and lettuce in the garden.
Gordon cringes. “So much for natural. Think of all the junk that dog picks up along the way in his daily romps.”
“That’s nature,” says Kathy. “Can’t help what one is meant to do.”
“Certified organic?”
From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs
Krystyna is a writer of poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. She resides in Edmonton, Canada with her husband, stuffed animals and many friends.
May
The Walking Dead
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Thinking about escaping across closed borders, I dug a hole outside. It was hard work. I pulled out bricks, barbed wire, glass bottles and jars, and old cans as I dug deeper. When my mind drifted too far into sadness, I stopped. Everything moves slowly now. I’m learning to be very stingy with supplies. On the table is a bunch of flowers I found in the trash. This may be a day for catching up on The Walking Dead, but I stand at a window that looks out on a yard. Somehow, just standing there feels like a hopeful gesture.
From Guest Contributor Howie Good
Howie Good is the author of What It Is and How to Use It (2019) from Grey Book Press, among other poetry collections.
Apr
Easter Sunday
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Through the window, the sun beams against my face. It’s Easter Sunday and the family will be arriving this evening. I haven’t seen my cousins since the Covid-19 quarantine and we’re all nervous. Do we need to wear masks to avoid breathing on each other, I wonder? We didn’t discuss it, so my husband and I will take our chances.
The food is prepared and cooking on the stove. The lamb and spices fill the room with a delectable aroma and I’m leaning against the counter sipping wine.
I drop my glass when the doorbell rings. I can’t do it.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Feb
Heart On Ice
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I was driving like I always do, as if I were transporting a heart packed in ice for a patient in imminent danger of dying, when outside Springfield, Mass., a bird that was also in an exceptional hurry crashed into my windshield with the boom of a gunshot, startling me about as bad as I’ve ever been startled, but the strangest part was that there were no cracks in the glass, no blood splatter, no feathers caught in the wipers, nothing to see, just the greasy crayon colors of dusk smeared all around and the cold stretch of road ahead.
From Guest Contributor Howie Good
Howie is the author most recently of Stick Figure Opera: 99 100-word Prose Poems from Cajun Mutt Press. He co-edits the online journals Unbroken and UnLost.
Jul
Lost
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The only time I thought I’d seen a fairy was awakening with a hangover and propped up by the television set playing a Disney channel. But now I’m sober, standing upright, and engaged in talking to one that’s lost her way. She had proved her credentials with a wave of her wand and producing a glass of some mixture she said would quell the aftereffects of over-imbibing, but her wand wasn’t up to the GPS instrumentation. I didn’t tell her that her mob lived at the bottom of my garden. She’s tall and beautiful, and now shacking up with me.
From Guest Contributor Len Mooring