Posts Tagged ‘Guest Contributor’
Mar
The Scent Of A City
by thegooddoctor in Uncategorized
She hasn’t unpacked yet. The clothes still smell of Paris. No, not of butter and cigarettes. Of that indescribable smell that is the smell of the City of Light.
Cities are redolent beings, each one with a distinct indescribable scent. Indescribable because Bombay doesn’t just smell of sea waves caressing concrete, raindrops infusing with sweat on a monsoon day, or fried green chillies consorting with vada paos. Bombay smells of Bombay.
She needs them clothes now.
They didn’t tell her that you can carry a smell across 7,000 kilometers but there’s simply nothing you can do to make it stay.
From Guest Contributor Sheena Arora
Mar
The Retreating River
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Peering through the tinted windows, she saw the river’s glittering trickle and the constellation of shiny debris scattered over the vast expanse of sand. Plate-sized, they glinted in promise. Starfish? Shells? Ornaments discarded as the river retreated to curl down in a corner?
Sliding back the glass, she blinked. Stark sunlight shone down on a thousand shell-bright paper plates, discarded as family picnics retreated to idle their way home, say their twilight prayers, curl down in a corner, and let the television flash blindly off their faces.
The train blew past the retreating river with barely a sigh, as always.
From Guest Contributor Aparna Nandakumar
Aparna lives in Calicut, India, and writes poems and short stories. Her work has previously been published at Atticus Review and A Story in 100 Words, and is forthcoming at Cafe Dissensus and Red River Review.
Mar
Other People’s Weather
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
No one had been expecting snow this far south. The local meteorologists all insisted the snow would stop at least a hundred miles north of here. How wrong they were, Dee thought as he stepped outside and was immediately blanketed in large, chunky snowflakes. They had a bona fide blizzard on their hands. Dee smiled, and out of the corner of his eye he noticed the specter of a yeti ambling across the street and into a neighbor’s backyard. No one, not even the yeti, would ever know how Dee managed to steal other people’s weather and bring it here.
From Guest Contributor, Dan Slaten
Mar
The Vigil
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Even to this day I curse, swear and kick myself for having dozed off that painful night. Though I kept vigil all through her illness, the feeling of guilt has never subsided.
She was my strength.
I knew the meaning of the cloudy eyes and immobility. After three consecutive nights, the strain on my eyes was too much and I slipped. It was at such a weak moment she chose to give up her fight…that hurt me.
My being awake at her last moments would mean nothing, but I feel guilty for expecting the death of my loving pet.
From Guest Contributor Thriveni C. Mysore.
Feb
One Of A Kind
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
She was impeccable. His mentor. Love. Tears clouded his vision as he viewed their life together through photos he flipped.
“You ought to take better care of yourself,” she often scolded. He wanted to say the same to her. Couldn’t. He closed the album with her smile nestling in the recesses of his mind.
A wooden box nearby cradled ripe peaches. One had gone bad.
He thought of her, his mom. How she would have dealt with it promptly. Not like him.
He grumbled at the cancer that had wasted her body. Lifted the rotten fruit and threw it out.
From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs
Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. Her fiction and poetry have recently been published online and in journals at: Nailpolish Stories, 50-Word Stories, 100 word story, A Story in 100 Words, 101 Words, From the Depths (Haunted Waters Press), ShortbreadStories, and espresso stories. Her nonfiction has appeared in flash fiction chronicles and in Wild Lands Advocate. Krystyna resides in Alberta, Canada.
Feb
The Conductor
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Sunil’s adolescent fantasy of being a bus conductor was now fulfilled. Nubile women pressed against him in strategic spots, he smirked.
At Valanchery, a horde of schoolgirls boarded. Sunil could barely squeeze through to sell tickets. This was heaven.
At Vattappara, thirteen aunties got on. Commuters. Other passengers were in hell. Sunil attained paradise. Though paradise was slightly suffocating.
At Kakkad, the tension eased slightly, but before Sunil could exhale, twenty quavering old biddies surged into the bus. A handbag knocked against Sunil’s temple.
When the bus pulled into Ramanattukara bus stand, Sunil was no longer in this world. Literally.
From Guest Contributor Aparna Nandakumar
Aparna lives in Calicut, India, and writes stories and poems. Her work has been published in Atticus Review and previously at 100 Words, and is forthcoming in Cafe Dissensus and Red River Review.
Feb
Storm Damage
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I’m a lucky lady. I have a wonderful lover in my life. A younger man. An enthusiastic younger man.
Lovemaking sessions are spontaneous, passionate and spicy. Lately we have been able to see a lot of each other. It is great.
I was annoyed he didn’t drive here immediately to help me with the post-storm clean up. The house is fine; the yard a carpet of leaves and branches.
Calmly, I put things into proper perspective.
-I have no right to put demands on him.
-He can’t be on call.
-My husband will fly home tomorrow from his overseas posting.
From Guest Contributor Barry O’Farrell
Barry O’Farrell is an actor living in Brisbane, Australia. Barry’s other stories can be found at Cyclamens & Swords, 50-Word Stories, and of course here at A Story in 100 Words.
Feb
Withdrawal Symptoms
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
It’s a four day cycle.
Day One: The wife drops off a computer then rushes out. Next her husband is on the phone demanding both diagnosis and priority repair.
Day Two: They make several phone calls throughout the day becoming angrier, more threatening, and more abusive with each call. Their lives are at a standstill.
Day Three: Their voices on the phone are now almost incoherent, a mix of rage and swearing.
Day Four: I phone advising job now complete, and cost, only to hear, “I’m too busy. I’ll pick it up next week.”
Their cold turkey misery is over.
From Guest Contributor Barry O’Farrell
Barry is an actor in Brisbane, Australia. Other stories by Barry have appeared in Cyclamens and Swords, 50-Word Stories and of course here at A Story In 100 Words.
Feb
Voodoo Graffiti
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The night the lake turned purple, I was on the phone for three hours, fighting with my brother. He was dissing Grandpa’s old white Ambassador which I’d inherited. Afterwards, I switched off my phone and shut myself up in my room. That’s how I missed our town’s first miracle.
Three days, one strangled rooster, a lungful of incense and a migraine later, I had succeeded in turning his BMW bright yellow. His scream of fury echoed across town. I sniggered and came out for coffee.
By then, the whole world had turned purple. Including Grandpa’s car.
Still, better than yellow.
From Guest Contributor Aparna Nandakumar
Aparna lives in Calicut, India, and writes poems and short stories. Her work is forthcoming in The Atticus Review and Cafe Dissensus.
Jan
Guilt
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I wasn’t the only one at the metro station the evening one of the trains blew up. But I was among those who stood the farthest from the flaming train. I was among the lucky few who escaped unhurt. I was among those who smelt the burning flesh first. I was among those who saw the first streams of blood escaping the bombed coach. I was also among those who ran towards the exit as soon as the shock wore off.
And now I am among those who are haunted by the images of the passengers we could have saved.
From Guest Contributor Namitha Varma
Namitha Varma is based in Mangaluru, India. Her works have appeared in Sahitya Akademi’s journal Indian Literature, eFiction India, Hackwriters, MadSwirl, and Every Writer’s Resource, among others. She can be reached on twitter via @namithavr.