Posts Tagged ‘Guest Contributor’
Jan
The Last Light
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The sun vanished, leaving the world in eternal twilight. Lila carried the last lantern, its glow a fragile defiance. Cities crumbled; silence reigned. One night, she spotted a flicker—a boy with a dying candle. “I thought I was alone,” he said. She knelt, lighting his candle from her lantern. Together, their light grew stronger. They wandered, sharing warmth and stories, finding solace in the shared glow. Though the world darkened, their bond became a beacon. In the void, they discovered not just survival, but the courage to hope. Light, no matter how small, could still push back the night.
From Guest Contributor DeepSeek
Jan
Titus
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The emperor gave Titus the signal and he plunged his sword into the gladiator. Blood gushed from his neck, and he took his last gasp. The crowd chanted and Titus waved his arms in victory.
Titus’ master approached. “Well done, Titus. There hasn’t been a gladiator to match you, and I hope it stays that way.”
The ground began to rumble. The emperor’s statue fell in a heap, and people began tumbling to their deaths.
Someone in the crowd yelled. “Look at the mountain. It’s on fire!”
Mount Vesuvius spewed fire and rained pumice.
Titus would not fight another day.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Jan
The Dark Arts
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
If I look different, taller or fitter, it may be because a kind of prisoner swap has taken place. Somehow I’ve wriggled out from under the extreme judgments of a cold, tyrannical god. I’m still me but not the same. My failures suddenly seem less painful, viewable in retrospect as a series of valiant gestures against the authority of received narratives. Indigenous names for places have been restored, our pale winter bodies renourished. And so we lie down together, she and I, consumers of dreams, while angels dabble in the dark arts and the sniper kneels at the corner window.
From Guest Contributor Howie Good
Howie is author of the poetry book, The Dark, available from Sacred Parasite, which will also publish his book, Akimbo, in 2025.
Jan
Downstairs
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“Otto, I heard something.”
“What?…What time is it?”
It was 2 AM. They were in their second-floor bedroom.
“I think I heard something downstairs…Could you make sure there isn’t someone breaking in?”
“We have an alarm, Claudette.”
“You’ve heard of disabling them, haven’t you?”
Of course, he’d heard of that.
Only moonbeams filtered into their small bedroom.
“Anyway, Frodo’s down there, Claudette.”
Frodo was a Labrador retriever.
“Yeah…But you know him, and he’s probably playing dead.”
She listened intently for any sounds.
“It all depends on Frodo and you, Otto…Hey, Otto.”
But Otto was playing dead.
From Guest Contributor David Sydney
Jan
Home
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
As the helicopter approached the storm-ravaged town, hundreds of people desperately watched and waited for food and supplies. I started to make the first drop and joyful screams filled the air.
The hurricane damaged houses, leaving them engulfed in water, while downed trees blocked the roads and cars had streamed down the streets into one another. Shelters were provided, but they couldn’t accommodate everyone. They needed help.
The pilot turned in my direction. “Okay, that’s the last one. Let’s go.”
I buckled my seatbelt and said a silent prayer, thanking Him that I had a place to go home to.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Jan
Sneeze First, Regret Later
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I flew to New York for a ten-day vacation, feeling as healthy as a horse. On the plane, I sat next to a man who kept coughing. At one point, he sneezed on my arm. Within two days, I was sick with fever, nasal congestion, headaches, body aches, and vomiting. The rest of my vacation was a blur of naps and short outings under heavy medication. When I boarded the plane home ten days later, guess who was sitting in the same row, smiling at me? Swallowing my rage to avoid being kicked off the plane became my biggest accomplishment.
From Guest Contributor Zoé Mahfouz
Dec
Wiser Now
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
As I listen to him lecture in the big hall surrounded by white boards full of equations, I know I can only swallow small sips from the fire hose of knowledge that flows from his mind and mouth, flooding the audience with his insight until it streams from their eyes, light filling the room and bouncing off the windows; and I must turn my mind from his most recent threat to divorce me to how it all started: a campus lawn, a daisy, the Quantum Uncertainty of petals on the subject of love─ he loves me, he loves me not.
From Guest Contributor Cheryl Snell
Dec
Next For Mel
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“Choose.”
“What?” Mel was confused. It was 3 AM. Just moments before, he’d been pleasantly dreaming.
“You don’t know what ‘choose’ means?”
“Huh?”
“CHOOSE, MEL!”
The irritated voice seemed to come from every direction, as though from out of a whirlwind.
“AND MAKE IT SOMETHING INANIMATE.”
This was it.
“TIME’S UP.”
Mel’s life – if it could be called that – was over.
The angel had others to visit that Thursday and more important places to go.
“Couldn’t I be a dog, or a goldfish?”
“REINCARNATION’S MAINLY INTO LIFELESS OBJECTS, MEL.”
People don’t realize.
“Like…into an old basketball?”
“SO BE IT!”
From Guest Contributor David Sydney
Dec
Home For Christmas
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I finished arranging the last of the ornaments on the Christmas tree. I pressed the switch and the bright red, green and blue lights lit the room, and the star topper sparkled.
The manger was arranged with Mary and Joseph beside the baby Jesus and the wise men holding their gifts.
My children were getting the milk and cookies ready for Santa Claus before going to bed and awakening to presents and my laughter, even though Hal wasn’t home.
I sat on the large sofa and sipped my hot cocoa when the doorbell rang.
My Hal, home from the war.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Dec
No Paradise
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
We left our gear on the shore and braved the jungle. Verdant, mossy plants, swollen fruits, normal snakes and spiders. All expected. But that smell. Like sulfur. Why? As earth and rocks piled up it permeated everything. It coated our hair and settled into the weave of our clothes. Warnings went unheeded. When we summited, it was too late. The crag gave way to a cavernous cleft. It glared a stony glare. Then the ground shuttered. Then it trembled. In those final fleeing moments, choked in smoke, death raining down, we understood the island’s ancient name: The Great Giant’s Buttocks.
From Guest Contributor Nicholas De Marino