Posts Tagged ‘Heart’
Nov
Numb
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“I’m so sick of pain, Gene. I wish I couldn’t feel at all.” With a shaky sniffle, Emily stroked the black fur of Gene’s chin, eliciting his tractor purr.
She may never fully recover, the doctors said. They called it transverse myelitis. Emily preferred less polite terms.
Gene‘s glowing eyes slid closed. Emily’s followed.
She awoke to a ringtone, heart pounding. Her thoughts reached for the phone inches away on the sofa.
Not a muscle twitched. No sensation, as though her nerves had died. The phone fell silent. Gene‘s stare blazed with yellow light.
Gene…
In her mind, Emily screamed.
From Guest Contributor Michelle Cook
Oct
New York Strong
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I climb the subway steps into the abundant sunshine. The weather is warm and it’s just another September day. Or so I think…
Paper is floating in the air; the sky darkens and desks tremble. Nearby buildings disappear in clouds of smoke. I watch wide eyed from the fourteenth-floor window across from the World Trade Center. Screams are unbearable and angels fall with a thunderous thump to the ground. My heart pounds and I can’t breathe. I don’t comprehend the horror; the fire, blackness, death.
The towers collapse, but eighteen years later we’re strong for the victims and their families.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Jun
When The Heart Aches
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The anguish of losing a loved one aches the heart. Henry knew this too well as he walked the cemetery grounds to his wife’s grave, carrying a dozen red roses, her favorite flower.
The scent of spring was in the air. The nearby sparrows chirped without a care, and the squirrels climbed the trees. Henry, too busy making sure the roses were placed perfectly leaning against the stone, didn’t notice.
Henry kissed her name on the stone. “I’ll be back next week, my lovely Serena,” he said and walked away.
A gentle breeze blew a rose petal in the air.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Jun
The Gladiator
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
He was a Gladiator, slaying every question with his answers. Judges admired him as the Atlas lifting our team. At first, I pitied for our status, consequently he hoarded us.
I couldn’t even try to lift my head because of my shame. He slogged us into the finals. In the finals, we had partaken and led our way to the trophy till the judge asked our last question. The sound of the question holed my heart, other team was celebrating their win, already.
A voice raised from our side answering the question. That spotless answer navigated us to the trophy.
From Guest Contributor Vivek Vr
Mar
Emptiness
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Toniann held her infant daughter close to her chest. She hummed and rocked looking at her tiny eyelids, gently pressing her face against baby’s fragile skin.
The nurse came in to take her, but Toniann pleaded for a few more minutes. She loved the feel of her small body in her arms.
Kurt gently reached to remove the baby from Toniann’s arms. “Honey, it’s time to let the nurse take her.”
Toniann struggled at first, but then released her daughter into the hands of her husband. Emptiness filled her heart.
She’d never feel the soft touch of her daughter again.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Dec
Miracles
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Steve wasn’t one to believe in miracles. He understood too well the depravities of the human heart. More often than not he was victim to the world’s machinations. That’s how fate had led him to the streets.
So when the woman offered a hot meal, he expected some sort of catch, likely in the form of a lengthy sermon. When she offered a warm bed, he called to mind images of harvested organs and sexual servitude. When she claimed through phony tears to be his mother, he fled at the first opportunity, certain it was another conspiracy plotting against him.
Nov
A Wandering Soap Opera
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I feel like a gull getting sucked into a jet engine. Furniture salesmen, spies, serial killers, etc., take turns following me through town. I recognize them by their nondescript appearance. Private lives are now being lived in public. We’re a wandering soap opera. That’s the problem with putting Velveeta on enchiladas. And nobody has to ask what the Kremlin thinks about all of this. Traces are visible from the air. I just want some semblance of normality back in my life, some sort of quiet, and my heart to stop furiously pedaling as if there were actually somewhere to go.
From Guest Contributor Howie Good
Howie co-edits the journals UnLost and Unbroken with Dale Wisely.
Oct
Reasons To Write
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Miguel was seated in front of the word processor, tears running from his eyes. The keys were making their poetic sound. Rhythmically putting letters into words, words into thoughts and ideas that moved things deep within his heart.
“You’re crying again,” Jenny said. “Why do you keep writing?”
“I don’t know,” Miguel replied. “I thought about not writing…”
“You really should.”
“I just think about how dark and painful my life was. Not having any way to get healthier with schizophrenia.” Sitting in the dark Miguel stared into the light. “I can’t leave anyone to fight this on their own.”
From Guest Contributor Steve Colori
Aug
Afternoon Tea Party
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“Eat this, Mom,” she said, handing me a plastic donut.
“Mmm,” I said, pretending it was delicious. I put it down and asked for more tea. Giggling, she poured air into a pink cup.
Someone pounded on the door.
The pot dropped to the table. I slid our pre-packed bag out from under the bed. She clung to me, like a baby monkey to its mother, and reached for her doll.
The door was giving in. Soon, it’d be off the hinges. I hoped we had enough time. I opened the window and my heart clenched.
The FBI waited below.
From Guest Contributor Bethany Cardwell
Jun
Unexpected
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Lucy turned up the car radio. It was their song and it reminded her of his soft touch on her body and the warmth of his breath on her face. Jim was taken too soon from an unexpected illness and the pain jabbed at her heart. She longed to hear his laughter and see his big dimples. His family didn’t approve of their relationship. She was older, divorced and not Catholic. But they were in love.
Lucy drove up the driveway and rubbed her stomach. How would she tell a family that disliked her that Jim would’ve been a father?
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher