Posts Tagged ‘Heart’

29
Nov

Delia

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

27
Nov

Thanksgiving

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

6
Nov

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.

“Vates!”

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

2
Nov

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

8
Feb

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

11
Jan

Regret

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

6
Dec

Cicadas

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

25
Oct

Apple Of His Eye

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

I see the favor he shows him and it sickens me. Everything seems to be given so freely in this world. And here is one after his own heart, obeying without even the slightest hesitation, never once questioning the directions he is given. There was a time when I was a follower, but I had ambition and drive. He couldn’t take it. Some may call it punishment, but I like to think of it as enlightenment. If this fool won’t come to his senses, perhaps that nice new companion can be swayed. I see the way she eyes that apple.

From Guest Contributor Nicholas Froumis

Nicholas practices optometry in the Bay Area. His writing has appeared in Gravel, Right Hand Pointing, Dime Show Review, Snapdragon: A Journal of Art & Healing, Ground Fresh Thursday, Balloons Lit Journal, and Short Tale 100. He lives in San Jose, CA with his wife, novelist Stacy Froumis, and their daughter.

18
Oct

Patchwork

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

I was eighteen when I met you. I did not like you. When I was nineteen – I kissed you. My feelings changed. When I was twenty – I slept in your arms. My heart changed. When I was twenty-one I slept with you. I did not love you. You broke my heart for the first time. It healed.

Twenty years later, you still call. My heart has been sewn, ripped apart, and patched back together. It has been systematically desensitized from your ploys and is now just existing somewhere between my stomach and lungs. Biological in space yet empty in soul.

From Guest Contributor Lindsey Stevens

11
Aug

Woman In Silhouette

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

I still remember the night when you left me, air thick with mist, the full moon hanging low like a moth in a tomb of cobwebs. Your deceitful voice was floating like paint fumes, stretching through the void.

«Don’t worry, honey. I’ll be back in a bit,» you said, kissing my forehead with stone-cold lips, smoothing my braids with moist and stiff hands.

Time has swallowed hundreds of full moons ever since, its belly round and black, cradled my sleepwalking heart, watched your features fading away from my memory. Now there’s nothing left of you but a woman in silhouette…

From Guest Contributor Cristina Iuliana Burlacu