Posts Tagged ‘Ground’
Mar
Battlefield
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The bombs come at us in droves, the sound deafening. I run across the field dodging bullets and falling bodies, the few men alive still in agonizing pain. Our trench is ahead, and I just need to get there.
Another round of gunfire and screams echoing across the battlefield. My heart pounds heavily and I find it difficult to breathe.
A bullet knocks my helmet off and I’m unprotected.
Someone yells cease fire, grabs my arm, and throws me to the ground. The gunfire has stopped but we’re crawling.
A few feet and we make it safely across.
For now.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Feb
For A Laugh
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Tina sat in the back of a taxi on her phone. She looked up, and her breath caught.
No longer was she staring at the glass partition; instead a bear stared down at her, its black eyes boring into her.
She screamed and threw her phone. It bounced off its head.
It roared, its canines glistening. “Stop!” The bear growled. It shook her, its claws digging into her.
Tina freed her pepper spray and emptied it in the bear’s eyes.
“The hell?” The cabbie screamed, falling to the ground, grabbing his face.
A twisted laugh carried faintly on the wind.
From Guest Contributor Madison Randolph
Madison is a reader by day and a writer by night. Her works have appeared in Friday Flash Fiction, The Drabble, Bright Flash Literary Review, Spillwords, The Chamber Magazine, A Story in 100 Words, Free Flash Fiction, Microfiction Monday as well as 101 Words under the name Ryker Hayes. She resides in Oklahoma with her family and dog Belle where she spends her time sharpening her writing skills and drinking large amounts of coffee. Her works can be found here. She can be found on Instagram @madisonrandolph17
Feb
Imminent
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The blow knocks me and my horse to the ground. I reach for my sword and swing at the enemy, his roars deafening. My leg is cut, and the breath is knocked out of me, but I endure the pain for my king and country.
Another foe is coming toward me. A comrade rushes to my aide and stabs him in the abdomen. He gushes blood from the mouth and dies.
I manage to fend off my attacker for now. One of us will tire.
And so, it seems death is imminent for him as my sword pierces his heart.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Feb
For MM
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The ground is wet with rain, and yet a book is lying there dry. I pick it up. Whoever snapped the photo used on the cover was either too excited or in too much of a rush to hold the camera steady. The faces of the naked women standing in an open field are blurred, less visible than their dark triangles of pubic hair. Soldiers gesturing with rifles have lined the women up in front of a burial trench. The women, still concerned for decency, keep their arms folded modestly over their breasts. Everything that isn’t a predator is prey.
From Guest Contributor Howie Good
Howie’s latest poetry book is Swimming in Oblivion: New and Selected Poems from Redhawk Publications. He co-edits the journal UnLost, dedicated to found poetry.
Dec
Survival
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The bombs are exploding, but I don’t look back. My son is screaming, so I grab hold of his hand tightly and run.
Bullets riddle around us and people collapse to the ground. ‘Keep going’ my mind tells me and I do just that. The boat isn’t far, we just need to make it to the border.
“Hurry,” I say to George as he looks at me wide-eyed in fear. “There’s the boat he promised us. Quickly, get in.”
The rower says nothing as he helps us. His expression is of despair and loss.
We are the fortunate who survived.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Nov
On Loving
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
What happens when you keep uttering the same word? One moment, it has a meaning. The next moment, it stops being a word.
Familiarity is the flourishing ground for intimacy. You repeat a word over and over so that you can describe its curves and contours, its light and luster. Rolling it inside your mouth smooths its jutting edges. Running your tongue playfully over it changes its tone. Mixing it up with other words makes it sway to strange rhythms. Wrapped in the warmth of your spit, it tries to germinate.
And, snap!
Familiarity is the flourishing ground for morbidity.
From Guest Contributor Aparna Rajan
Aparna is a research scholar and an aspiring writer, currently living in Mumbai, India.
Oct
In The Memory Of A Thought To Be
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Vernon took his knife and silently pulled it from the tree bark. With a shriek, the first crow flew from the hollow, resting on the ragged grass. Its feathers ruffled, and its face pinched.
Vernon’s skull pushed itself upward, bursting through his skin, and making a nest in the now-vacant cavity. Vernon’s eyes fell upon the recess within, creating a rotted root system.
He could not believe in any of those things.
Vines sunk from branches covering the ground, winding around tree trunks and breaking them apart. The crow’s mouth yawned open, tearing at Vernon’s thoughts with claws and teeth.
From Guest Contributor J. Iner Souster
Jun
Molded Reality
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
A tap on the shoulder a jolt back to reality, not reality to an abyss. Weary as someone falls on the ground blood everywhere. Running and screaming in vengeance. The puddle grows sticky I melt into the floor, watching time slow down. Put on a pedestal not to adore or admire but to pity. Voices behind me question our reality. Time slowly tick-tocks by. A car ride later, bright lights and people dawned in blue hovering over me. Green silk and glowsticks draped with fresh blood dripping on the expansive white linoleum floors. Going back, I see a molded reality.
From Guest Contributor Bandit Taylor
Bandit is a student at Pikes Peak Community College. He Is only 16 and is loving going to college for education. He is currently working on a novel based in Leningrad, Russia during the Cold War.
May
All Below Was Sky
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
All below was sky. No, that isn’t right. You are upside down. The seatbelt keeps you suspended a foot above ground. Blood swells and pounds in your temples, or was it the whiskey? Frank was on the street.
Ejected. He had been thrown fifty feet.
Dead and dusky.
His seersucker shirt plunged a deep v on a chest of ringlets. Oxford buttons pin a lapel dyed crimson. You count the spots on a ladybug as it skitters across. Stripes and six spots. A gnarled oak casts shade on the misshapen corners of a green license plate.
A wailing siren approaches.
From Guest Contributor Kyle J. Ames
Kyle is a student of English at Pikes Peak Community College
Jan
Cage
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The town came to the zoo based on the promise of a special exhibit of animals captured with great difficulty. The audience was truly impressed.
“My god, they are ten times our size.”
“They are bellowing so loud they can be heard ten towns away. The shrieking hurts my ears and might leave me deaf.”
Despite their fear people stuck around, mesmerized by the crazed beasts. They trusted the extra thick bars in the cage.
Their trust was ill-advised. The humans broke out of the cage and stomped the crowd into the ground. Three thousand Xanians died painfully.
From Guest Contributor Doug Hawley