Posts Tagged ‘Hair’
Sep
Juiced
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Reuben downs a shot of tequila and says to me, “Keep up. We don’t like to drink alone.” I down two, three, four shots and fail to catch up.
Reuben turns to the brunette sitting on the next bar stool. “People claim your fingernails and hair keep growing after you die. You believe that? I don’t.”
“You’re drunk,” she snaps.
Reuben grins at me and says, “When men get embalmed, the juice pumped into them gives them a world-class boner. That’s what I want, a boner that lasts forever.” He downs another tequila, trying to calm his demons and himself.
From Guest Contributor Robert P. Bishop
Sep
Home From War
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I stepped off the bus, my body drenched in sweat. I couldn’t wait to remove my uniform.
I walked the path, the grass greener than I remembered and budding with flowers.
My head ached from the heat, and I needed a bath, but I didn’t think my wife would mind.
There Jane stood, her dress blowing in the breeze, her hair longer, shielding the sun from her face. She screamed my name and ran into my arms.
We enjoyed a passionate kiss that lasted several minutes when she took my hand and led me inside.
The bath would certainly wait.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Jun
Microplastics
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Too small, too tough, the forever stuff. Five millimeters to a nanometer, all recycle cheaters. Polyethylene is not green. Debris in the sea, in the sand, on the land, in the air. The minuscule plastic molecule – drink it, breathe it, absorb it. 200 thousand microplastic molecules in you every year. Perfect hair, revolutionary skincare – just vain dreams ruining streams. All the sales promotions on lotions and potions, laundry soap, shopping bags, and tags. So much trash; it’s the sin of the bin. It’s hard to be a container abstainer, a nature campaigner. This is the mess we’re in.
From Guest Contributor K Mayer
Apr
“There Is A Light That Never Goes Out”
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Blessed Morrissey. Everyone sings. Jennifer’s a junior and she has her own car. She starts the engine and on the summer night highway she says, “Wanna get kicked out of the Hilton?”
I’m in back on the hump, a hand on each front seat. Her hair, her piercings, her red glitter black lipstick shimmering in streetlights, so close. I want to whisper in her ear something so funny and sexy she just has to kiss me and we crash and I fly through the windshield but everyone who sees my body sees my black lipstick glitter mouth and knows.
“Yeah.”
From Guest Contributor Brook Bhagat
Brook is the author of Only Flying, a Pushcart-nominated collection of surreal poetry and flash fiction on paradox, rebellion, transformation, and enlightenment from Unsolicited Press. Her work has won contests at Loud Coffee Press and A Story in 100 Words, and it has appeared in Monkeybicycle, Empty Mirror, Soundings East, The Alien Buddha Goes Pop, Anthem: A Tribute to Leonard Cohen, and other journals and anthologies. She is a founding editor of Blue Planet Journal and a professor of creative writing. Read her work and learn more about Only Flying at https://brook-bhagat.com/.
Jan
A Glint Of Green
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
He smiled as he walked toward his mistress—beautiful and depraved. When he got close, he saw the green glint around her eyes and began to recognize their malicious intent. Her thick, dark hair covered much of her face, and a faint scar ran from her ear down her neck. He noticed that she was still pale. She would have no colour for a while, he thought.
“I’m so glad you’re alive,” he whispered as he kissed her forehead.
She snapped at him. “Thanks for bringing me back from the dead.”
“Sweet Jesus!”
“Not exactly,” Her mouth fell open slightly.
From Guest Contributor J. Iner Souster
Oct
Platero And I: Ode In The Garden
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
They say my garden is wild, Platero, as is my hair – Martha would be ashamed if she saw this garden.
Don’t they know this garden is an ode to Martha?
That every year when the leaves lose grip, I prune erratic. I seek your approval, Platero, because you‘ve seen Martha do it so often.
That hedge over there: sloppy and unevenly shaven; the bushes butterflies like to sit on, brusquely stripped of their thick branches – hopefully none vital.
That’s why this garden is an ode to Martha: because I’m lost without her and not just in the garden.
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.
Oct
Fifty-Fifty: A Sullen Revival
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
scowling, baldwin grabbed the welcome-to-9 birthday card from the tv compartment. birthdays? useless! he thought. aren’t birthdays for children whom god gave little time and had to celebrate their short lives. just like my twinnie.
he crumpled the card. flung it. headed for the garden.
seeing him, his mother flinched. this wasn’t baldwin. but why wear baldwin’s clothes? even baldwin’s red hair?
—joey!
—i’m now baldwin. no longer joey. i come to say ‘no birthdays anymore!’
—whatcha doing, eh?
—we’re fine wi’ddis, mum.
his mother wiped tears. groaned. —baldwin’s dead, joey. stop this.
—he’s my twin. he wanna live, too!
From Guest Contributor Elisha Oluyemi
Apr
Cafe Shi
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I had just gotten an invitation to a special meal at Cafe Shi. For those who do not know it. Look it up. Best readers, writers, thinkers in the multiverse, a place to eat and listen to stories that would make your hair curl.
I got there as a Mandela effect meeting was finishing up. Those poor souls all crying about the coming thermonuclear war and what to do about it.
I listened as a lady I knew from a prior life spoke about Colorado radiation levels and burning sulfur rain.
Seemed rather odd a thermonuclear war would end humanity.
From Guest Contributor Clinton Siegle
Feb
Ties That Bind
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Sam always used rubber bands to hold up her ponytail; I’m still finding them around the apartment, lost during sex, or when she shook out her hair after a long day at work, or in any of a dozen different ways. The trust between us proved less elastic, and snapped.
Everything came undone when she found that bobby pin in the bathroom. I told her that Jodie had just needed to wash bird crap out of her hair when she dropped by, but clearly I wasn’t believed. Now, in every sense, there’s no way left to hold things in place.
From Guest Contributor Alastair Millar
Alastair is an archaeologist by training, a translator by trade, and a nerd by nature. His work can be found at https://linktr.ee/alastairmillar and he lurks on Twitter @skriptorium.
Feb
Not Today
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Sam’s touched up face, slicked brown hair and embalmed body, reminded me that he really was gone.
I sat in the front row as family and friends approached, the same words spoken repeatedly.
“We’re so sorry for your loss, Janny.”
The room filled with flowers, from bleeding hearts to white lilies gave an aroma of a florist rather than a wake.
The priest began to speak, and the room quieted, except for my weeping.
Cancer took my husband too early. He’ll never see his daughter graduate college.
Now I must break the news of my Parkinson’s disease. But not today.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher