Posts Tagged ‘Home’
Apr
Housekeeper
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The rain pelts my umbrella, so I make haste to avoid getting drenched before my housekeeper interview. The last home I cleaned I left because there had been too much friction between the husband and wife. I didn’t want to be in the middle, so I quit. When I came across a post online of a wealthy couple looking for a house cleaner, I applied. It’s in an upscale neighborhood and I have a good feeling.
I ring the doorbell and a man answers. In the distance I hear a loud crash, and his face turns wan.
I walk away.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Apr
House Delivery
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Sarah paced the room. “What if she doesn’t like me?”
Josie gently touched Sarah’s shoulder and spoke reassuringly to her friend. “How could she not, you’re giving her a home and she’ll be going to a good school. She’ll make nice friends and be happy.”
“I hope. I’ll be a single mother without a husband; she may not adjust.”
“Stop. Everything will be fine. Let’s have that wine and we’ll watch a movie until she gets here.
They stood and the doorbell rang.
Sarah ran to answer it. “She’s here!”
When Sarah opened the door, it was the pizza delivery.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Jan
Home
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
As the helicopter approached the storm-ravaged town, hundreds of people desperately watched and waited for food and supplies. I started to make the first drop and joyful screams filled the air.
The hurricane damaged houses, leaving them engulfed in water, while downed trees blocked the roads and cars had streamed down the streets into one another. Shelters were provided, but they couldn’t accommodate everyone. They needed help.
The pilot turned in my direction. “Okay, that’s the last one. Let’s go.”
I buckled my seatbelt and said a silent prayer, thanking Him that I had a place to go home to.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Dec
Home For Christmas
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I finished arranging the last of the ornaments on the Christmas tree. I pressed the switch and the bright red, green and blue lights lit the room, and the star topper sparkled.
The manger was arranged with Mary and Joseph beside the baby Jesus and the wise men holding their gifts.
My children were getting the milk and cookies ready for Santa Claus before going to bed and awakening to presents and my laughter, even though Hal wasn’t home.
I sat on the large sofa and sipped my hot cocoa when the doorbell rang.
My Hal, home from the war.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Dec
Teases
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Sam is lying languid on yellow sheets. James will be home tomorrow which leaves little time for new lovers.
Sam reaches up and receives the glass and sips, as I drink from the bottle and look at scars on a wrist, tattoo marked and bled, bracelet often mislaid.
Bob Marley doesn’t give a shit, while Sam Cooke looks dispirited at what yet will come. Joplin cries wild abandon from vinyl well-worn and well earned.
And James will return and for now Sam is here and I am here and the bottle is half full and Sam teases with a fingertip…
From Guest Contributor Michael Tyler
Michael writes from a shack overlooking the ocean just south of the edge of the world. He has been published in several literary magazines and plans a short story collection sometime before the Andromeda Galaxy collides with ours and…
Nov
Dream?
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The doctor looked at me through his eyeglasses that sat perfectly on the rim of his nose.
“In your dream, you said a spirit you didn’t recognize handed you a feather.”
“Yes, but the figure was only a cloudy shape of a person.”
“What do you suppose the feather represents, Charlie?”
“My father used to train pigeons before he died in the car accident. Maybe that?”
“Possibly. Time to stop. We’ll continue this next week.”
When I arrived home, I felt something in my pants pocket. I reached in and my eyes widened. It was the feather from my dream.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Nov
Rain
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
After evensong, her steps are soft on the stairs, and I will denounce these risers with their dips in the middle; it’s been centuries; couldn’t they be repaired now, o ye archbishops? Through the light-coloured thin-glass panes, I can see the skies darkening: how am I supposed to get her home in a storm, my newly blind friend with her damnable tumour? We will be like those lost old farts in the wilderness. My friend shifts her foot towards a stair, seeking. Let the rain fall gently on us, I think; let it fall like a hymn sung in evening.
From Guest Contributor Colleen Addison
Nov
Night Shift
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
When the wind blew really hard all the derricks had to be towed in off the lake. Usually it chased us off around ten. So my shift began with the promise of a shutdown. I would gather up the rangemen to go out in the skiff anyway, just to make a showing. I was home by one and could listen to the wind howl in my basement apartment till I fell asleep. The next night would be awful with me tired and everything. You should never get out of that night shift rhythm, no matter how good the wind sounds.
From Guest Contributor Paul Smith
Oct
Runnin’ On Adrenaline
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I’m amazed at how much energy I can muster after that dreaded phone call. It doesn’t matter it’s 3:00 AM. I can sacrifice sleep. I’m dressed in a flash and on the road racing to the hospital, running through hallways, arriving before your final breath, “I’m here Dad, I love you.”
You whisper, “Always remember Helen, you’re my queen of queens.”
And after arranging your funeral, packing your clothes, arguing with my siblings about who gets what, I drag myself home, plop down on the bed thinking I’ll pass out from exhaustion, instead, I think of you and tears erupt.
From Guest Contributor Charles Gray
Oct
Holes
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
A court decision of forced eviction awaited him on the table. A huge hole sudenly gaped where his intestines often knotted and his stomach spasmed. He found himself in the no-man’s house he had once called home. And there is another new and bigger hole: where until a few moments ago the heart beat arrhythmically. “I need to sit down,” said the man who had no more legs at all. He stared at that thing that was still broadcasting a programme. A smile shone on his face. Through the hole in the skull flickered the healing glow of TV screen.
From Guest Contributor Ivan Ristic