Posts Tagged ‘Habit’
May
From Treadmill To Rowing Machine
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Charlie researched the treadmill market. He was intent on good habits from thereon, starting with a mile walk per day in the bedroom.
“Do you think you’ll last even a month?” asked Cheryl. Two months later, she noted that it made a great drying rack for his shirts and undershirts.
Nothing is as firm as a habit. Charlie researched exercise bikes. A 5-mile ride in the morning was the way to start a day. “That thing,” said Cheryl after two months, “is perfect for drying pants and pillowcases.”
The rowing machine – the next purchase – was better yet for drying socks.
From Guest Contributor David Sydney
Sep
Written Florida
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The hospital counter balanced the consequences of Chloe’s belief in radiological.
“Poise Samuel. It’s dosage and daydreaming. Don’t slam this shut, there’s no ambush in it.”
Samuel’s reptilian wheelchair spontaneously defended his ego with a damp pelvis moan.
“You need to explore your obsession with maintaining haste.”
And then Chloe was behind him, creating an exit.
Outside the gravity of habit drew dated windows and naked brick into Samuel’s response.
“Chloe, you are the answer to a whistle.”
Her blouse threw out naked holes of laughter until the urban inside her tongue finished the joke.
“But you have no teeth.”
From Guest Contributor Geoffrey Miller
Apr
Drinking
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
There was a time that drinking carried with it a thrill. The flash of acceptance by his peers, the risk of being caught.
Then it became a habit. An expectation, though not a conscious one. It was just a part of everyday life, like the friends he no longer really connects with, but finding new friends seems complicated and lonely.
Now it is no longer drinking. It is alcohol, and he needs it to not feel sick, to not hate himself.
Maybe he should quit. But that strikes him as uncomfortable. Better just to not think about it too much.
Mar
The Birth Of Tragedy
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I was nervous about interviewing for the job, but my confidence rose as soon as I walked into the anteroom. My only competition seemed to be ignoramuses with a fixed repertoire of inanities and washed-up ballplayers in the habit of spitting. Forty minutes later, my name was called. “I’ll lick stamps,” I told the gargoyle from HR. “I’ll lick whatever you want.” He looked at my wrinkled boots and patched coat and just shook his big ugly head. Some may be born with a tragic sense of life. Others are like me and acquire it by dint of long effort.
From Guest Contributor Howie Good
Howie’s most recent poetry collection is Gunmetal Sky, available from Thirty West Publishing.
Nov
Thanks For Asking
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
You ask me what my faces mean, if I trust people, what I think of you. You ask what I think about everything. You are amazed by what I see. How I can feel what’s invisible. Through miles and miles of walks, the no-destination drives, the not-so-torturous library hours, you keep listening to me, even when I’m quiet. I’m amazed that you can hear me over the sounds of our beautiful, loud friends, who think attention is inevitable. I trace my hand on paper: a habit. You copy on the other side: an unbalanced coin. Two sides of separate things.
From Guest Contributor Grace Coughlin
Grace is from Buffalo, New York. She is currently a Senior at St. John Fisher College, majoring in Psychology with minors in English and Visual and Performing Arts. She has 100-word stories forthcoming in Eunoia Review and Otoliths Review.
Oct
Reunion
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Imagining their reunion had helped her do unspeakable things since the Collapse. The cold night crystallized her tears. Others might mistake the flicker on the mountainside for a twinkling star, but she knew it’s a candle burning in the window–their sign. Don’t worry baby, she thought, Momma’s coming.
By daybreak, she had reached their cabin. Its warmth draped itself around her like a blanket. Wiping her shoes on the mat (force of habit) a small thing flew out of a cupboard and pinned itself to her legs. “Mummy! I missed you!” David emerged; his face already crumpled with emotion.
From Guest Contributor Carla Halpin
Sep
My Sidekick
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
She was the best stress buster I had. My best friend. My confessor, she bore all my messes. Talking to her was necessity not habit. She was my anchor in my bad marriage days. Ironically, my daughter shares a birthday with her.
She is the picture perfect woman to me. She got married to the best guy in the world. I’m so happy for her. I had never thought distance and time would keep us apart in these technologically advanced days. She is in EST and I am IST. What a mess these 9.5 hours have created in my life.
From Guest Contributor Dr. Scribbler