Posts Tagged ‘Husband’
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
Jun
Ghost Milk
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Before going back to the backyard she checked on her husband and her two-month-old kid who were fast asleep. The bed was undone, the dishes were huddled up in the sink unwashed, the rugs were clumsily rolled up. She knew that the child would wake up in an hour exactly. Those midnight crying fits. Last Sunday the infant was inconsolably crying, craving for milk, while she was in the backyard. She wanted to feed him, but couldn’t. Her breasts were heavy with ghost milk. The newspaper on the table read, “Delhi woman electrocuted by wet electric pole in the backyard.”
From Guest Contributor Anindita Sarkar
May
Homer
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Marjorie and her husband Herbert thought that names were important. When their first child was born, they named him Homer in hopes that some day he would be a major-league baseball player. Herbert used to laugh at the concept even while he predicted that Homer would be inspired by his suggestive name.
When Homer was three, Herbert bought him a baseball bat. Then it was Little League and high-school baseball and finally the college baseball team. Marjorie and Herbert were ecstatic; their dream was coming true.
In the end Homer majored in Classics and wrote an epic poem in Greek.
From Guest Contributor Anita G. Gorman
May
A Picture Of Him
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The rain came in through the window, but she didn’t move to close it. Her eyes were fixated on the picture of her late husband.
His toothy grin, unkempt hair, and the obnoxious Rolling Stones t-shirt brought a smile to her face. She had forgotten how goofy he could be when taking a photo. He had the complete inability to be serious when a camera was pointed at him. The various ridiculous poses and his exaggerated grins came to mind and made her chuckle to herself.
She gently traced his face with her fingertip as tears glided down her cheeks.
From Guest Contributor Zane Castillo
Apr
Lady Macbeth
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
HISTORICAL FICTION ENTRY:
Life had become so boring, so beige boring. Every day it was hound the maids, light the candles, greet the guests. Then along came prophecy! What’s not to believe about a witch, let alone three? Once again, my world oozed with possibility.
What came to pass? Life in red, gushing red. There was blood in the soup, blood in the stew, blood on the hands of my husband. I thought about the plagues in Egypt, the Pharaoh who knew about miracles turned against him. I thought about science. That what flows, surely ebbs? While the old king’s blood ran blue.
From Guest Contributor Linda Lowe
Linda Lowe’s poems and stories have appeared in Gone Lawn, Crack the Spine, What Rough Beast, New Verse News, Tiny Molecules and others.