Posts Tagged ‘Guest Contributor’
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.
Jan
The Exporter’s Lament
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
In Export there is something heroic about earning foreign currency for my country. It makes up for jet lag, family absences, and living out of a suitcase.
Disembarking the flight home, I am thinking of freshly made meals and welcome home sex, not necessarily in that order.
I open the front door to enter a silent, empty house; furniture, fixtures and fittings gone.
On the kitchen bench the business card of a lawyer, specializing in Family Law.
My mind floods with stories told by fellow exporters, their helpless acute vulnerability, when their wives ran off with another man or woman.
From Guest Contributor Barry O’Farrell
Barry O’Farrell is an actor in Brisbane Australia, who worked in Export many years ago.
Other stories by Barry can be found at Cyclamens and Swords, 50 Word Stories and here at A Story In 100 Words.
Jan
Surprise
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
He always smiled when she appeared. Today, he also winked.
No one else gave her a second look. At school, girls called her names. Boys threw stones.
She placed a chocolate bar on the belt. He rang in the price. She paid.
“Not getting your favourite?” he asked.
“You’re out,” she answered.
“It won’t happen again.”
She tore the wrapper off exiting the store. Took a mouthful. As she started walking home, a car pulled up behind her. The driver’s window opened.
“Found these in the back of the store,” he said handing her a caramel chocolate bar.
“Thanks, Grandpa.”
From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs
Krystyna writes poetry, fiction and creative nonfiction. Her recent work has been published at: Nailpolish Stories, 50-Word Stories, 100 word story, Boston Literary Magazine, From the Depths (Haunted Waters Press), ShortbreadStories and espresso stories.
Jan
Present
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“The grandkids gave me a beautifully wrapped Christmas present. When I opened it, the box said apple. I thought it meant dried fruit. Turned out to be one of them takeaway telephones young people like.
“I’ve never tried a takeaway telephone. Grandkids showed me how to use it with finger sliding, pointing, tapping.
“They showed me all sorts of things inside it which were very surprising.
“Now I have lost it. Must have put it down somewhere, forgot it and walked off. If you happen to find it, my telephone has a white body and the front is black glass.”
From Guest Contributor Barry O’Farrell
Barry has written other stories which appear on Cyclamens and Swords, 50 Word Stories and of course here at A Story In 100 Words.
Jan
The Only Casanova in This Dead Country
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“She was so hot,” Sam says. “It was like she was blasting out chunks of magma. When we finished, the whole apartment looked like Pompeii. Anyway – how’d you do with your lucky lady?”
I light up a cigarette and think for a moment.
“I was depressed the next day. Does that answer your question?”
“You tellin’ me you didn’t make a formaldehyde fetus?”
“Oh we had unprotected sex. I don’t know. Something doesn’t sit well inside.”
Sam puts his hand on my chest.
“There’s nothing comfortable inside that heart of yours,” he says. “It’s an abandoned archaeological site. Like America.”
From Guest Contributor Justin Karcher
Justin lives in Buffalo, NY. Recent works have appeared in Crab Fat Literary Magazine, Mixtape Methodology, and Maudlin House. You can find him on Twitter.
Jan
Callous Humans
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
An aged tiger was on the prowl. One night it caught a sheep. As it could not carry its prey, it tried to eat it there. The cows in the shed raised an alarm. The villagers gathered, pelting stones. The tiger ran away.
The villagers staged a protest, wanting the government to exterminate it. Experts were called in. The next day they shot the tiger. How callous are humans, I thought.
A tiger took a sheep, a sheep that was to be slaughtered the next day!
If animals could strike back for their rights, we all would be behind bars!
From Guest Contributor Thriveni C. Mysore.
Jan
Our Orchard
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
We chased each other between rows of plum trees. Leafy boughs drooped with blossoms casting shadows in our tracks.
We kissed when we caught up. I sank into your embrace wishing you would never let go.
But you did. A high school classmate was more clever than I. Grabbed your vulnerability. Clawed at your masculinity. You found her sexy.
I’ve returned. Standing across the street from a playground where our orchard used to be. The fruit trees were gone except for one.
Boys played rough ball games. One on a bench looked like you.
Love no longer filled that space.
From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs
Krystyna writes poetry, fiction and creative nonfiction. Her recent work has been published at: Nailpolish Stories, 50-Word Stories, 100 word story, Boston Literary Magazine, From the Depths (Haunted Waters Press), ShortbreadStories and espresso stories.
Jan
Impact
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
At the base of an apartment tower, lies a fresh corpse. Police arrive.
They log the remains of a habitual thief, the main suspect in a spate of “Human Fly” style burglaries.
Whilst finding the injuries which caused his death consistent with falling from a considerable height, the Coroner will observe some fingernails on both hands have been impacted and crushed.
I am sitting on the balcony of my fourteenth floor apartment, enjoying an early morning breakfast, and panoramic ocean view.
My nine-pound hammer rests against the leg of the table. It will be cleaned and stored after coffee.
From Guest Contributor Barry O’Farrell
Barry O’Farrell had his 950-word sci-fi story Shakedown published in the December 2014 issue of Cyclamens and Swords.