Posts Tagged ‘Husband’
Jun
Making Textiles
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Kneeling on the hard ground making textiles is an arduous task when the sun is beaming, but the heat is worse indoors. The brick wall of my home blocks the air flow and sweat trickles down my forehead.
My husband Mario is walking up the path after a long day of working in the fields.
“Maria, please come inside now. It is time to cook dinner.”
“I’ll be just a minute.”
I pack my belongings and go home.
Mario and our boy are laughing and singing a mellifluous tune while setting the dinner table.
My heart is full of love.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Mar
A Grass Dog
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
After my death, one half of my soul rose to the heavens, and the other half slept underground. My blood seeped into the roots of weeds. When the village held a festival, my daughter cut the grass and wove my halved soul into a dog-shaped chugou. She placed me beneath my husband’s bed. After a while, my husband tossed about and moaned in sleep.
“Don’t kill me!” he screamed.
My daughter stood over him and flung down her hatchet. His blood dripped through the mattress and onto the floor. I chuckled as I learned who had murdered me while asleep.
From Guest Contributor Yuki Fuwa
Translated by Toshiya Kamei
Yuki Fuwa is a Japanese writer from Osaka. In 2020, she was named a finalist for the first Reiwa Novel Prize. In the same year, her short story was a finalist in the first Kaguya SF Contest. Translated by Toshiya Kamei, Yuki’s short fiction has appeared in New World Writing.
Mar
Mending Hearts
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Olivia’s heart is broken since her husband Stan’s death. His cancer so brutal, she’d weep alone in the bathroom. Her spirits lift slightly when her son, his wife, and their daughter visit, but when they leave it’s difficult to be alone. One morning Olivia is awakened by stomping on the stairs. She regrets giving her son the spare key. The bedroom door bursts open and her granddaughter Molly is holding a white and brown spotted purring kitten. “Grandma, this is your new husband,” little Molly says. “Can you name him Stan like grandpa,” she asks. Some hearts can be mended.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Feb
Wilted Lily
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Sarah awakened from a frightening dream, her nightgown pasted to her body in sweat. Her husband, Mark, was still asleep, so she gently lifted the covers, went to the bathroom, and splashed cool water on her face. She stared at her reflection in the mirror and remembered every detail.
It was her wedding day. At the altar she couldn’t breathe, her body slowly disappeared, and her bouquet of lilies fell to the ground.
“It was just a bad dream,” she whispered to herself.
She softly kissed her husband and went back to sleep.
Under the bed, rested a wilted lily.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Jan
Suffrage
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I clear the breakfast plates as a dutiful wife, while my husband, Robert, legs crossed, newspaper in hand, clears his throat and faces me.
“Are you seriously considering going to the parade, Grace?”
“Not considering, I’m going,” I say and slam the cabinet door, dishes rattling.
“There’s no reasoning with you,” he says and leaves the room.
I want more than keeping a home and obeying Robert’s commands. I want the freedom to choose.
I hold my head high, grab my “Women have the Right to Vote banner,” and walk out the door to Fifth Avenue to make a difference.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Dec
Christmas Surprises
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Kristy lights the Christmas tree, the glass ornaments glistening in the room. The freshly lit candle gives a warm aroma and the fireplace crackles. They tried for two years to conceive and today she received the wonderful news from the doctor.
Dinner is in the oven, and Kristy is wearing her best red sleeveless dress for the occasion. She sits near the fireplace and listens to the flickering flames, the sound soothing her nervous excitement.
She hears the key in the door and runs to the kitchen.
Cuddled in her husband’s arms is a tiny sleeping puppy.
Another Christmas surprise.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Oct
The Receipt
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Monday was always wash day in Marla’s house. She sorted through the load of “darks,” mostly jeans and towels. While checking the pockets, she thought she felt a piece of paper in her husband’s jeans.
Marla found a receipt made out to her husband. It read: “Rent for the month of October 2020, paid.”
“What rent?” she thought to herself. Marla didn’t recognize the address. She began to consider the possible explanations. Was it a pied-a-terre? The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. What had the bastard done now?
Just then, her husband walked in the door.
From Guest Contributor Janice Siderius
Sep
The Short-Lived Joys Of Youth
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
When I married at eighteen,
a friend gave us The Joy of Cooking.
My husband, nineteen, turned every page,
looked at every recipe, writing, “Yes!” “Try!”
or (for his mother’s recipes) “No!”
Never thinking of actually cooking something himself.
I wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed or flattered,
but the marriage lasted about a year.
When I married at fifty-one,
we compared copies of The Joy of Cooking.
My husband’s was in better repair,
so we gave mine to Goodwill.
He likes cooking, so he does it. I wash the dishes.
It’s been nine years now. We are still married.
From Guest Contributor Cheryl L. Caesar
Cheryl lived in Paris, Tuscany and Sligo for 25 years; she earned her doctorate in comparative literature at the Sorbonne and taught literature and phonetics. She now teaches writing at Michigan State University. Last year she published over a hundred poems in the U.S., Germany, India, Bangladesh, Yemen and Zimbabwe, and won third prize in the Singapore Poetry Contest for her poem on global warming. Her chapbook Flatman: Poems of Protest in the Trump Era is now available from Amazon and Goodreads.
Sep
Fate
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Cold and hungry, I shivered on the platform.
Everything had been taken. The silverware from Grandmother Petra, tossed in a bag, was a knife to the heart. All our valuable paintings, ripped from the walls and tossed into a pile, was too much for my husband Jenko. He protested and got a bullet in the head. I held my chin high without weeping.
I’m alone, except for the hundreds of people waiting to board the train and wondering where we are going.
I lowered my head and pressed my hand against “The Star of David,” sewed onto my fraying coat.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Jun
A New Home
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
NATURE SUBMISSION:
“Hi, we’re the new foster parents. Are the little ones ready?”
The woman who opened the door has tears in her eyes.
“You’re early.”
“We were anxious to see them.”
“Promise me you’ll take care of them.”
“Um… certainly, madam.”
“I’ll get my husband.”
A man comes to the door, carrying a basket and then handing it over.
“Is everything all right with the missus? She seems a bit upset. She IS aware we will end up eating them, right?”
“Sssst. No need to remind her of that.”
“Maybe you should consider to stop giving away free tomato plants, then.”
From Guest Contributor Hervé Suys