Posts Tagged ‘Guest Contributor’
Jan
In Memoriam
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Sunday, you’ll have been dead a week. I sit at the kitchen table, laptop open in front of me, doing what I think you’d be doing in my place, writing something. You were a poet, a real one, a soldier with a flower in his helmet. I’m hunting and pecking when I suddenly hear the tinkling of Tibetan prayer bells. Five seconds – 10 max – pass before I realize it’s the new ringtone on my phone. A prim female voice announces, “Unknown caller.” I always just assumed Death would have the surly demeanor of the lunch ladies in a school cafeteria.
From Guest Contributor Howie Good
Howie’s newest poetry collection, Frowny Face, a mix of his prose poems and collages, is now available from Redhawk Publications He co-edits the online journal UnLost, dedicated to found poetry.
Jan
Christmas
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Ten-year-old Richie helped his mom decorate the Christmas tree with colorful red, green, and blue lights, and an array of ornaments. When he lit the tree, everything in the room illuminated.
His mom sank into the couch. “Maybe this year Christmas won’t be so lonely.”
Richie sulked, grabbed a chocolate chip cookie from the tray and nibbled on it to savor the taste, when the bell rang, and he ran to answer it.
His eyes widened when he saw who stood in front of him. His dad in his navy uniform.
The war had ended, and Christmas was whole again.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Jan
Stirring Up The Pots
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“Everything under control?”
“Absolutely,” I responded, stirring the contents of the left pot, checking on the right.
Gravy bubbled up delicious aroma. Steamy chocolate swirled to the ceiling, taking me back to the time I watched mother make the same recipe.
“Darn!” my inner voice screamed. “Cornstarch lumps!”
I reached for the blender. Meantime I detected a slight burning cocoa smell and set the dessert sauce aside.
“Fifteen minutes left!” the announcer yelled.
A panel of judges awaited each contestant’s creations.
“Interesting combination with chicken,” one stated, sampling mine. “There’s brandy. Definitely chocolate. Cherries are divine. What’s your dessert sauce?”
From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs
Krystyna writes poetry, fiction and creative nonfiction regardless of the season or location she finds herself in.
Jan
Age Of Reality
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Closed time curved loop? How to escape? Can one escape? The death of humanity? I doubt it. I wonder. Trapped in quantum confines, disbelief shattered when I queried the local AI about our galaxy’s age. Its cryptic answer: 50 million years. Puzzled, I questioned how Earth, at 4.5 billion years, coexisted with an arm merely 50 million years old. The AI faltered, unable to clarify. Seeking cosmic origins, I realized 50 million years aligned with the universe’s dawn. Reality morphed within this fragment, hinting at an enigmatic age defining both inception and present, blurring the edges of perception and time.
From Guest Contributor Clinton Siegle
Jan
Platero And I: Old Skool Bloodbrothers
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
No doubt you have been wondering, dear Platero, why Stefano keeps spitting on the ground each time we pass his house and I greet him with a slight nod.
We grew up in the same neighborhood and became good friends. Later we went to college in the same city, where we got drunk together and whispered similar sweet words in girls ears. We were convinced the world was at our feet and nothing would ever change that.
But then…the civil war broke out and blood brothers became sworn enemies.
Time heals many wounds, Platero, but clearly not all.
From Guest Contributor Hervé Suys
Hervé (°1968 – Ronse, Belgium) started writing short stories whilst recovering from a sports injury and he hasn’t stopped since. Generally he writes them hatless and barefooted.
Jan
The Lord Loves Me
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The Lord loves me even though I don’t love myself.
Not every day goes great. But when I pray, I pray for joy and happiness.
The wife comes and yells, “your lazy butt still sitting in that darn chair?”
“Just talkin’ to the Lord for a moment.”
A bolt of lightning makes us both jump and her fall to her knees.
“No, David,” she yells, “not a storm. We need the tomatoes to bloom, you old fool.”
The second bolt of lightning enters the house and her skull.
I smile, realizing even the weather listens when I talk to God.
From Guest Contributor E. Barnes
E. Barnes has works published in The Purple Pen, The Haven, Spillwords, Centina Pentina, A Story In 100 Words and the anthology NanoNightmares.
Dec
Horrors Of War
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Innocent civilians taken hostage. Families plead for their loved ones’ safe return, helpless and fearing the worst outcome. All they can do is weep and wait.
Pictures of children shown on the news, unaware of the outside world, scared, frightened, and huddled together unable to sleep, wanting their parents to save them and not knowing why they’re separated.
Countries gather to create foundations to help those in need. How long will it last?
Shootings and chaos surround streets, and gunfire echoes in the air. People bellow and search for safety, unable to find it.
These are the horrors of war.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Dec
Tannery
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
He received a large order to carpet an entire wall: that meant working late at the light tannery, in the other room. He looked at the skyscrapers at the far end of the room where he was now, but it could be done. He had to get to the other room, where the flowers grew: once the stem was cut, the stone inside reacted chemically with the local oxygen, then melted into spots of light whose original texture was much like a tongue’s. He sighed, thinking about his life. What he really enjoyed was preparing chlorophyll manually, on the piano.
From Guest Contributor Angelo Colella
Dec
Relativists
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
A twin, jealous of her sister’s looks, sends her into outer space.
-The joke’s on you, says their mother. She will return younger than you. And, she’ll look even better.
Doesn’t she know time is an illusion? Then again, she believes the sun rises and sets.
-She knows an illusion when she sees it, says the mother. She’s always been the smart one.
The mother glances down at her watch. It runs more slowly when in motion, treating time like taffy: the greater the pull, the more it stretches.
-Gravity, she seethes.
You always liked her better, says the twin.
From Guest Contributor Cheryl Snell
Cheryl’s recent fiction has appeared in Switch, Does It Have Pockets? Gone Lawn, Necessary Fiction, Pure Slush, and elsewhere.
Dec
At The Bar
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Drunk Joe asked the man next to him at the bar “Do you believe in flying saucers? I think they are a crock.”
“No it’s absurd. They have it all wrong. Our ships are triangular.”
”Huh?”
“Aliens aren’t little green men. We come in many colors. You get light and dark ones here.”
“Where do you get these ideas?”
“I’m a triangle pilot. They are half as wide as they are long. Don’t believe me? We look mostly like humans, but” it pulls up its pants and takes off its shoes “see – four legs.”
Joe goes home and quits drinking.
From Guest Contributor Doug Hawley