Posts Tagged ‘House’

5
May

Sirens

by thegooddoctor in Uncategorized

He’d risen early this morning to plan the house his wife had dreamed of, but the hilltop’s stark beauty had rooted him to the spot.

His tea got cold.

It suddenly seemed a travesty to spoil the land’s personality.

Don’t seek to dominate, Mother Nature whispered, explore me as you would a lover.

He felt his pulse race at the imagery. There were enticing little copses in his eye line.
He wondered if Elaine was up for–

“GRAHAM!” Her voice scattered the erotic thoughts.

He sighed and slouched towards the mobile home.

“Coming.”

He reflected on the nature of sirens.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid

5
Feb

What’s Up Pussycat?

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

An elderly lady made an urgent call to the vet because her cat was off her food.

The vet carried out a full examination before pronouncing.

‘I have some wonderful news for you Miss Soames. Your lovely tortoiseshell is pregnant and will soon have a litter of kittens. Congratulations!’

‘That’s impossible. She never goes out. She always stays in the house.’

Just then, an old and battered ginger tom walked into the kitchen and began to munch on some food.

‘I bet that he’s the culprit,’ the vet said.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she said through red cheeks. ‘That’s Dewdrop’s brother.’

From Guest Contributor Rick Haynes

3
Feb

Outside The Box

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Annie is missing. “Not in her room,” Mom said. “Can’t find her outdoor
shoes,” noted Dad. “Maybe she fell into a humongous puddle,” quipped
younger brother. Older brother was silent. Two guinea pigs madly
threaded wheels. Crows lined the backyard fence squawking at the
house. “Bet she’s at a friend’s,” said Dad. “Maybe a monster snatched
her,” younger brother grinned. “That’s enough young man,” asserted
Mom. “We need to think OUTSIDE the box,” Dad stated. “Maybe someone
put her INSIDE a box,” giggled younger brother. “Hush!” yelled Mom.
Older brother emerged: “Annie’s in my bedroom closet with an imaginary
friend.”


From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction.

11
Jan

Yard Work

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

His boots sinking in the mud, Joseph pushed the mower across the lawn. Cecile admonished him for its futility, but with the water receding today, now was his opportunity. He’d always enjoyed doing yard work. There was the sense of accomplishment, but he also liked getting out of the house for a couple of hours.

The water was getting higher every year. Cecile talked about moving, but this was where the kids had grown up and they still visited every Christmas. He refused to leave.

It made him angry to think some people were blaming all this on global warming.

9
Jan

Irish Eyes

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Marie stared in the mirror, her azure eyes gazed lovingly at slender curves. She shook her head wafting strands of dark hair about her waist. A grey tracksuit clung to her physique mounted above designer trainers.

She waltzed out of the house, across the field in view of the adoring workmen, and down to the muddy cliffs onto the sandy beach. Her feet clomped to the rocks, where she climbed the coral.

At the summit she perceived a clear pond. Therein, beyond the sea creatures’ majesty and waves of seaweed, perfection shone back. Fixated, even when the tide came in.

From Guest Contributor Valkyrie Kerry Kelly

20
Dec

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

7
Dec

What Happened To Ben?

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

“So, uh, what happened to Ben?”

“Twitter. Once he discovered that, well, he just sort of fell into a black hole.”

“Do you talk to him on Twitter?”

“Oh yeah. All the time.”

“That’s funny. I can’t get him to return my calls. I even went to his house one day and he didn’t answer the door.”

“Just tweet him. He’ll respond.”

“That seems weird. Does he make sense? Talk in complete sentences?”

“He’s hilarious. Same old Ben.”

“Only he’s not really there. He’s just a digital ghost.”

“When you put it that way it just sounds sad.”

“I know.”

From Guest Contributor Dan Slaten

18
Oct

Candlelight Song

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The first night we moved into our new home, we heard singing from the house next door. I went to the window and saw a woman singing on the second floor. She held a single candle in her hand.

As the weeks passed, we heard the singing every night, the same song, the same window, the same candlelight. I might have imagined it, but the singing seemed to be becoming louder.

Now, each night, I sit at my window and sing that song, a single candle my only source of light. I have not seen my wife in many years.

22
Sep

Match Light

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The flame exploded into being as the match head dragged across the sandpaper. It might have seemed magical, but really it was just that the glass-on-glass friction generated enough heat to kindle the match’s phosphorus.

The match provided the only light in the entire house, perhaps the entire city. Between the impenetrable clouds and the power outage, darkness had descended as quickly as the sun.

The illumination lasted long enough for Theresa to count the remaining matches. Seventeen. Each one guaranteed to ignite but she knew such guarantees were hollow.

Seventeen matches to survive until the end of the world.

24
Aug

The House On The Hill

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

As the floodwaters receded, Thompson entered what used to be his home. The structure had once stood proud at the top of the hill. Now it was in shambles, the storm having carried it off its foundations and depositing it several hundred yards away.

With stooped shoulders, Thompson shifted through the remains. His friends would say he should count himself lucky that anything survived at all. At least he was alive. But it was hard to think that way with Jessie’s waterlogged doll in his hands. He was not one of those parents who looked at their children as disposable.