Posts Tagged ‘House’
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
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
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.
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.
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
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.
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
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
Mar
Thank You Lady Erzulie
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
In her dormitory room, Evangeline examined the ‘Special Romance Candle”, which she bought today from Madame Laveau’s House of Voodoo on Bourbon Street in New Orleans.
The candle was a plea to the Haitian spirit, Lady Erzulie, for assistance with awakening the attention of her classmate and unrequited love, Gabriel.
The clerk in the shop promised “An Evening of Unforgettable Passion.”
Evangeline placed the lighted candle on the table next to her bed and prepared for the spell to work.
She slipped out of all her clothes, climbed under the covers, and eagerly waited for a knock on her door.
From Guest Contributor Don Kirksey
Mar
Haunted
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
We lived in that house, but we died in it too. It ravished the souls of the living and confined those of the dead. We lived with our eyes closed, but we died with them open. It took us slowly, a gradual disorientation of the senses. We lived far too short, but we died ages ago. It trapped us with a treacherous hive mind, seduced by the whispers in the walls. We lived apart, but we died together. It didn’t hurt and it won’t hurt for you. I watch at the edge of your bed; the ghoul in the shadows.
From Guest Contributor Margaret Gleason
Currently, Margaret Gleason attends Pikes Peak Community College, but has dreams of writing, coding, and drawing her own video games.