Posts Tagged ‘Guest Contributor’
Mar
Don’t Do It
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I tried to warn him. Several times. Maybe that was the problem.
“Listen to your buddy. She’s not the one for you.”
Instead, he hauled butt down the aisle. All I saw was the dimpled boy from our youth slipping away, oblivious of the cliff ahead.
It gets worse. Under the chuppah, our hero someway somehow managed to screw up his only freaking duty: stomping the bejesus out of a glass goblet — missed it by that much.
‘Twas a harbinger of things that came.
He hasn’t spoken to me in years.
Perhaps I shouldn’t have said I told you so.
From Guest Contributor David Thow
Mar
They Were Her Rock
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“You can do this!” “Be positive.” “You’re not alone.”
An assortment of rocks made up the flowerbed in front of a tall brick building. Some were scattered, others piled, many with painted pictures and handwritten messages.
Walking from the parking lot was perilous at best. Cheryl navigated the uneven sidewalk cautiously, crunching ice under heavy boots, pounding stale snow into powder.
The front glass-door opened. Volunteers greeted at the end of the entrance foyer away from the cold drafts of the outdoors. Someone sat at the reception counter awaiting questions.
Cheryl’s heart raced. Her radiation treatment was about to begin.
From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs
Mar
Ed’s Choice
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“If you were a fly, Ed…”
“What’d you mean, a fly?”
“I’m just asking.”
They were at AL’S DINER. The waitress had not yet taken their orders. Ed knew his flies. That’s why Mel asked.
“So, if you were a fly, would you go for the scrambled eggs or Al’s oatmeal?”
“A fly, huh, Mel?”
“Yeah… Just a regular house fly.”
“Well, I guess the eggs. Now, of course, a horse fly…That might be different.”
“Nah…I’m only interested in regular flies, Ed. I don’t see that many horse flies, compared to the usual house flies, in here today.”
From Guest Contributor David Sydney
Mar
No Thought
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
My doorbell rings with flowers from David. Every year on Valentine’s Day he sends me red roses. The delivery boy smiles waiting for his tip. I hand him the money and shut the door forcibly causing the room to shake. Another vase to take up room in my cabinet.
Just once I’d like David to say he loves me and take me out to a nice dinner. He does the same thing every year without any other thought.
I throw the roses in the trash, the vase cracking into pieces.
I grab my car keys and take myself to dinner.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Mar
The Agony Of De Feet
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
We took a cruise which included Roatan, an island off the Honduras coast. We had a fine time just wandering around the island but decided it would be a good idea to go kayaking. We were right, it was a beautiful day in the Caribbean and the bright sun was fine. We thought we had dressed for the occasion, but even with suntan lotion on most parts of our exposed bodies we forgot our feet. Both of us got extremely sunburned feet. Walking was painful for days after, but we still remember our cruise and time spent on Roatan fondly.
From Guest Contributor Doug Hawley
Mar
Deep Slumber
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Every part of my body ached; and my hair was pasted to the pillow from sweat. My lips were dry, yearning for water, but I couldn’t drink with the tube down my throat. I’m in the hospital, but what happened?
There’s movement around me, but it’s just a blurred mess. My head feels as if it was struck with a hammer, the pain shooting down to my neck.
I heard voices.
“She needs surgery to remove the swelling. Sarah suffered severe head trauma in the accident.”
Is that a doctor?
Slowly I’m being moved and sedated into a deep slumber.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Mar
Mel Finishes the Week
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
His week at the coin-operated laundromat finally over, Mel wished for nothing more, after a meal of mac & cheese, than a night of uninterrupted sleep.
So, now in REM sleep, he was able to dream, to put his Uncle’s laundromat behind him.
To recover.
But what the…
It was his Uncle Leo, bursting into Mel’s dream of sleeping on laundry. There’s something pleasant about lying on towels and underwear at your work.
“I don’t pay you to sleep. Take this mop, Mel.”
All that night he spent mopping.
Mopping and mopping linoleum until the morning, when he awoke exhausted.
From Guest Contributor David Sydney
Feb
You Are The Method
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I met the man with the train face at a strawberry picking. Where you buy the basket, scatter into the field, pick as many as you like or as will fit. He moved in a straight line, boring ever farther ahead, picking with one hand, then the other, then engineering the basket forward along the ground. When I was beside him, I could feel his breath like steam; his eyes seemed to let out more light than they took in. Full basket, he passed it to his wife. Her face was a station. She handed him a new, empty basket.
From Guest Contributor Ken Poyner
Feb
Reunion
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I was only seventeen when I gave my baby girl away to a loving family. My parents were by my side as my heart ached and I cried to sleep every night.
Happily married with two grown sons, my thoughts still frequented that sweet red-faced baby I left behind.
I felt my heart palpitate and my hands tremble, but my boys told me not to worry.
Molly had doubts but agreed to come.
The doorbell rings.
I straightened my clothes and took a deep breath.
On the other side of the door was my daughter waiting to meet her mother.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Feb
Haunting Silence
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“If Sam took a hearing test today, she’d fail it in the left ear, probably both.” The doctor points to diagrams, talks about adenoids and semi-clear liquid the color and consistency of honey.
Since January, I’ve watched Samantha’s world get smaller. She laboriously mastered “DaDa” and nothing more.
The doctor and my wife talk about tubes and advances in the technology of tubes.
I’m haunted by an image I haven’t seen yet—Sam unconscious, on a white hospital sheet awaiting surgery. I see this when I check on her.
In her crib, the sheets are pink, stuffed animals all around.
From Guest Contributor Shane Borrowman