Posts Tagged ‘House’

3
Jan

Platero And I: Old Skool Bloodbrothers

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

No doubt you have been wondering, dear Platero, why Stefano keeps spitting on the ground each time we pass his house and I greet him with a slight nod.

We grew up in the same neighborhood and became good friends. Later we went to college in the same city, where we got drunk together and whispered similar sweet words in girls ears. We were convinced the world was at our feet and nothing would ever change that.

But then…the civil war broke out and blood brothers became sworn enemies.

Time heals many wounds, Platero, but clearly not all.

From Guest Contributor Hervé Suys

Hervé (°1968 – Ronse, Belgium) started writing short stories whilst recovering from a sports injury and he hasn’t stopped since. Generally he writes them hatless and barefooted.

2
Jan

The Lord Loves Me

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The Lord loves me even though I don’t love myself.

Not every day goes great. But when I pray, I pray for joy and happiness.

The wife comes and yells, “your lazy butt still sitting in that darn chair?”

“Just talkin’ to the Lord for a moment.”

A bolt of lightning makes us both jump and her fall to her knees.

“No, David,” she yells, “not a storm. We need the tomatoes to bloom, you old fool.”

The second bolt of lightning enters the house and her skull.

I smile, realizing even the weather listens when I talk to God.

From Guest Contributor E. Barnes

E. Barnes has works published in The Purple Pen, The Haven, Spillwords, Centina Pentina, A Story In 100 Words and the anthology NanoNightmares.

30
May

Endurance

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

When Henrik asks me to hide his wife and son, I don’t hesitate.

Every day, I bring food and water to the sewer where I’ve hidden them. I feel it’s safer than hiding them in my house when the Nazis show no boundaries in searching homes.

Unfortunately, it’s not the accommodation I hoped for, but Henrik and his family are grateful. The resistance has brought more people into the hiding space and so they are no longer alone.

It saddens me, but I fight along with my comrades for a better life in our country.

And so, we all endure.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

19
Apr

We Lost A Room Last Night

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

We found a house out on the dunes, beyond the golf course. The conservatory had crumbled already but soon a jagged fissure opened up across the living-room floor. Soon the front door burst from its hinges and other people started to show up. A tramp slept on the wrong side of the crack one night; he was gone in the morning but we didn’t know where. You know we’ll have to leave here soon, she said one night as she held me. Maybe head up the coast? I squeezed her back and we watched a window slip from its frame.

From Guest Contributor Geoff Sawers

17
Apr

The Origins Of Classic Nursery Rhymes

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

I didn’t grow up surrounded by art and culture. There were newspapers scattered around the house but few books on the shelves or paintings on the walls. One day I sat drawing in my room – I must have been 12 or 13 years old, just starting to figure shit out – when my mom stuck her head in. She watched me for a moment, then she said, “Why are you wasting paper?” I have had kind of a bad feeling ever since, like the farmer’s wife is still back there in the kitchen torturing three blind helpless mice with a knife.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie’s newest poetry collection is Heart-Shape Hole (Laughing Ronin Press), which also includes examples of his handmade collages.

23
Mar

Speaking From Beyond

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The spirit spoke.

“Water is wetting my house.” Trevor woke up from his dream puzzled. He wondered what his dead aunt was trying to tell him from beyond the grave. He waited for the sun to rise and then rushed down to her burial spot to investigate.

Examining the sepulcher, he saw a gaping hole in the roof of the structure and as he looked down he could see the coffin below. He took out some cement and sand he had in his car trunk and sealed off the spot.

“Ok,” he said, “That was what the dream was about.”

From Guest Contributor Dennis Williams

Dennis is an emerging poet/writer from Sandy Hill, St. Catherine, Jamaica. His writings have been published in agape Review, the American Diversity Report (ADR), Alchemy spoon issue #7, the Health line Zine #1, the independent literary magazine Adelaide #54, EgoPHobia # 74, and the livina press issue # 3, Blue Pepper Magazine.

9
Nov

The Good, The Bad, And The Stinky

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

It’s said to be good luck for homeowners when a carpenter leaves a tool in your walls after a job. They might hide a fish in the vents if they get screwed over for money. It will take years for the smell to dissipate. Whoever built this house went a little too far. At least that’s what I’ll tell the police.

They’re still looking for my partner. I suspect that she and the contractor left town with my money.

In my mind, I can still see the bodies, skin crumbling, bones exposed. The smell of flesh lingers inside my skull.

From Guest Contributor J. Iner Souster

7
Jun

In The Stir Of A Hand

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Robots Contest Entry

“Squeal! Crunch!”

“What’s that sound?” questioned Susan.

Tom ran into the kitchen to check. AngelCakes attempted to blend soup with the batter, including the tin can.

“Darn, instructions weren’t clear,” Tom fretted, making necessary adjustments.

With a replacement of ingredients, the smell of spicy tomato soup cake soon filled their house.

“Hmmm…crunchy!” Susan commented, spitting out bits of cake.

“Yuck!” Tom balked, taking a bite. “Should’ve written: Put egg into mixing bowl. Throw out shell.”

He made another note in the recipe.

“I’ll have our baking robot ready in time to make you a birthday cake, hon.”

Susan grimaced.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction regardless of the season, although she prefers spring.

6
Jun

Who Cared?

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Robots Contest Entry:

He tinkered for a year, ignoring his phone and only leaving the house for Wacko Wake or the hardware store. The rest was delivered.

The garage was littered with tools and metal shards. The WiFi flicked on for two hours each night so he could comb websites.

His friends had given up on him. Who cared? He was done. Done with living like an open wound, a scrap of plastic blown in someone else’s breeze.

Finally, it was time. He flipped the switch and felt an electric jolt. The eyes lit up. The battery hummed.

Then it spoke. “Yes, master?”

From Guest Contributor Faye Rapoport DesPres

21
Apr

The House Of Sky

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The house stands camouflaged. Painted blue, it bleeds into the sky, camouflaged, hiding the deep-red hurt inside. “How do you appear so serene?” asks the inside to its out. How do you not give credence to the suffering within us? “I must maintain hope,” the outside says. “The pain within our facade is already causing stress cracks and chipping in my optimistic veneer. My face was once a cloud-like cream. Now its blueness, though mistaken for a sort of cheer—is actually the shade of sadness. When she passes, and finally ceases this struggle, let us rebuild, recolor, reinvent ourselves.”

From Guest Contributor Keith Hoerner