Posts Tagged ‘Heart’


Great Minds

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Despite my dread, graduation blasted through the calendar. The ceremony was lovely; I felt something strange in my heart. After I got home, I gravitated to my room and turned on my computer. I opened an old chat program, scrolled down to his name. Our last chat, both online and in real life, was more than five years ago. I saw him sitting in the front row an hour ago.

I read our conversations, laughed, forgot his vanishing act.

Suddenly, the grey icon went green.

Soccer93 is typing….

The message vanished.

Soccer93 is typing….

“Great minds think alike, I guess.”

From Guest Contributor J.R. Night


My Darkest Colors

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

At night my darkest colors show. Sometimes I grow weary, afraid you can’t stand the glow.

Darkness comes in many different shades. From fear, paranoia, self doubt and anxiety, the lightness from me fades.

Just as self realization kicks in, and I ponder how much more can I take? A warm calm from light comes through, and my heart begins to wake.

As the light and magnitude begins to grow, the spectrum of colors from light to dark begins to glow.

I begin understanding now, so diverse and ubiquitous, and limited was my vision before. Forgive me I never knew.

From Guest Contributor Crystal Bauer Feldman


The Tiny Box

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Rosa watched the Christmas lights flickering on the house across the street. Green, red, blue and white, gleaming through her window. She took a sip of tea and let the warmth settle in her stomach.

Under the Christmas tree sat a tiny box from Steve, neatly wrapped in gold paper and a red bow.

A year had passed since Steve’s death and Rosa wouldn’t open the box without him.

Deep inside she knew what would be in the box, but truly knowing would break her heart.

Every year Rosa continued putting the box under the tree and never opened it.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher



by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

She waits at the bar every night, alone in the corner. Her eyes smudged with fine lines and tear stains from years gone by. Lipstick is applied to chaffed lips and she brushes harsh, greying hairs. Her wrinkled hands fiddle aimlessly with yet another glass of the only fluid that offers relief. Her clothes are worn, unchanged throughout the fashions of the last two decades. Every night she drinks in the corner. Every night she drags herself home, a cigarette slouching from her drying mouth. She remembers little else.

With heavy heart she waits for him. He promised to return.

From Guest Contributor Kerry Kelly



by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Thanksgiving. A time to appreciate loved ones.

Sitting on the couch, smelling the delicious aroma of the turkey, George watches his grandchildren play Monopoly with his son, Tom. The laughter of their tiny voices brings joy to his heart. Watching them brings back memories of his childhood, fishing with his dad and his proud voice when he made his first catch.

The meal finally makes it to the dining room table and Tom will do the honors of slicing the turkey.

George’s aide helps him to the table. He sits and savors every moment, knowing this is his last Thanksgiving.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher


The Death Of Tales

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The mist glistens with false promises. The canopy drips blood of myriad misled bards vanquished by the Mediocre tribe.

The incantation echoes through the rain forest, causing even lianas to cringe. “We have decided not…”

The shaman feels tears slow to a reticent trickle from still-closed eyes. His heart freezes with horror, sharp mind balking from interpretation.


It takes a moment to understand he is being addressed.

Lids snap open. “Yes?”

“Did the Mystic Mushroom bring wisdom?” The bard asks, handing him a bowl of spring water.

Cathbad rises from the straw bed. “No, Carolan, a warning of ignorance.”

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid


Last Night

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Still tired, I wake in the darkness. In the distance, I hear a train and the rumble of traffic. I strain for the sound of your soft breathing next to me. An aeroplane passes overhead, now I hear the humming of the refrigerator. Eyes closed, I can feel the heat of you an arm’s length away; just an arm’s length. I reach out to touch you; I hear the angry hiss. Still not forgiven. My heart turns to stone when I glimpse your fury through clenched fingers. Everything turns to stone, hard stone. Hard words echo in the night air.

From Guest Contributor David Rae


La Piedra

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

I was once asked a question. In fact, it was the most important question in the history of the world.

The question was so immense that it should have been saved for God himself in the afterlife.

It covered love and hate and fact and fiction and everyone and everything at once.

Naturally, I wanted to answer, but my throat froze and my eyes turned to stone like those of a statue. If my heart throbbed, I wasn’t there enough to feel it.

Honestly, how’s a piece of shit like me supposed to know if everything happens for a reason?

From Guest Contributor Branko Tubic



by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

I freeze at the crossing, not because of the cold, but at how a stranger walks.

Even the musculature of her legs reminds me of Sandy. For a moment her profile ensnares my heart. Then she looks in my direction, questioning without expecting an answer. She doesn’t break stride.

We’d made a pact to run away together: escape doldrums and parental tyranny…to find adventure in The City. We’d agreed to rendezvous here. I’d been waiting more than an hour.

I set off alone, annoyed when her name escaped my lips; and admonished myself that I never really knew her.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid



by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Gary’s gasping two-hand tap against the wall earned second place in the breaststroke. Pete had less time to breathe.

First in the butterfly – their final high school triumph shared.

Later, they met in the shower. Whispers were overpowered by streaming water.

Gary’s kiss goodbye burned as a beloved’s should.

“You’re sure? My heart…so damn broken.” A lump choked his every word.

“Me, too.” Gary held him. “But we’ll be one thousand miles apart.”

Later, Pete laid in the tall grass behind the aquatic center. Silver-voiced male cicadas polished their mating song in desperation, chanting for a miracle.

From Guest Contributor Embe Charpentier