Posts Tagged ‘Husband’
Sep
Alma’s Journey
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I’d always known about my husband’s cheating, but when he was home, he was good company. Now he’d left.
Was I losing my mind, too?
“Leave Miami,” my daughter had said. She’d just given birth to my only grandchild. “You can start over with us in Orlando.”
What was she was thinking? She knows I’ve never been more than thirty miles from home.
I looked down. The purse I thought I’d lost was between my shoes.
Picking up my purse, I couldn’t wait for the train doors to open fully—my daughter cradling my granddaughter on the brightly lit platform.
From Guest Contributor Geoffrey Philp
Geoffrey is the author of the YA novel, Garvey’s Ghost. He teaches English and Creative Writing at the Inter-American Campus of Miami Dade College.
Aug
A Loving Wife
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Debra sat beside her husband’s hospital bed, the click of the monitor a regular tune in her head. Barry laid there, his breathing calm and steady. Seeing him hooked up to tubes and unconscious was an unbearable sight. Still, she read to him daily and hoped he heard, but his eyes never opened. It had been one year since his car accident. Trauma to the brain was what the doctor called it.
“I love you, Barry, but it’s time to let you go,” she gently kissed his lips.
As the doctor unplugged the monitor, Debra watched Barry’s chest stop moving.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Mar
Plague
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
First little Amy was stricken, taking three days to die.
After collecting the body, the wardens painted the black cross on the door.
Then her husband and son Mark sickened. She could do nothing for their agonies.
A cart collected them to be buried in the pit.
Now the street is sealed off. No food arrives, and the water is almost gone.
She sneezes twice. She knows this is the end. But what is there to live for?
Thus the pauper Mary Wells died alone in London in 1665, with no priest to console her, no caring God above her.
From Guest Contributor Ian Fletcher
Born and raised in Cardiff, Wales, Ian has an MA in English from Oxford University. He has had poems and short stories published in The Ekphrastic Review, Tuck Magazine, 1947 A Literary Journal, Dead Snakes, Schlock! Webzine, Short-story.me, Anotherealm, Under the Bed, A Story In 100 Words, Poems and Poetry, Friday Flash Fiction, and in various anthologies.
Feb
The Cost Of War
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Grace paced the kitchen while her six-year-old daughter, Sophia, watched curiously. Sophia had bright blue eyes like her father. When would the war end? Grace thought. It had been two months and she hadn’t heard a word from Charles. All she could do to occupy her time was read and take care of Sophia.
Several months later Grace’s doorbell rang. She grabbed her robe and ran downstairs.
It was a military gentleman.
“Are you the wife of Charles McCormick?”
“Yes,” she answered, eyes closed.
“I’m sorry, but your husband died in an explosion.”
Grace collapsed to her knees and wept.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Nov
The Inescapable Muse
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
It was a perfect setting for a murder. The characters leapt to her mind’s eye: two brothers suavely lounging in the large padded oval back armchairs.
She pictured their wives, prim and dutifully attentive in the smaller twinned balloon backs.
Or perhaps she would mix it up to attract the increasing cohort of latter-day suffragettes and sympathizers who appeared to take umbrage at earlier novels.
Yes…she could almost see the dominant wife of one of the couples – American probably – claiming one of the larger chairs, her slightly effete husband relegated to the smaller.
But who would die?
Agatha scribbled.
From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid
Apr
Drum
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
There is one bright dancer among them. Her hands trace the music onto air. The “U” of her hips sways, telling bedroom stories. Melodies float her toward the youngest doumbek player, barely bearded.
She bends to him, smiling, flirting even, to the ululating tongues of all her watching sisters but as the hafla pauses to draw a collective breath, I see the truth: her focus is not the boy drummer. She shines for the pulled-skin drum.
An elderly man leans near me. “It is all that remains of her husband.”
“He played?” I am confused.
He shrugs. “He had enemies.”
From Guest Contributor Laura Lovic-Lindsay
May
Luke the Wonder Dog
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
My dog takes credit for ‘diagnosing’ my brain tumor. My husband and I entered our garage together, but he jumped back. I asked what’s wrong.
“You’re kidding? The stench is unbearable.”
Late August temperatures cooked the bin used to collect the dog’s poop and the lid fell open, releasing a stink.
“I don’t smell anything.”
“That can’t be right.”
My doctor scheduled an MRI that revealed a racquetball-sized tumor between my eyes and olfactory nerve. It was operable and benign. I was lucky.
My dog reminds me at every turn that I owe him my life. He thinks he’s Lassie.
From Guest Contributor Anne Anthony
Mar
Infinity Pool
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
She and I are married but not to each other, if you get my drift.
Seizing a window of opportunity, we are spending four nights in a five-star hotel on the coast complete with infinity pool. I swim, she wades.
She says, during my swim, a young girl approached her complaining a couple of boys mischievously removed the safety floaters to use for a game in the pool. The lass asked, “Can you tell your husband to make those boys put the floaters back?”
“Why don’t you?” I ask cheekily. “Grab your phone, make the call.”
We both laugh.
From Guest Contributor Barry O’Farrell
Barry’s stories can also be found on Cyclamens & Swords, 50-Words Stories and of course, here at A Story In 100 Words.
Feb
Withdrawal Symptoms
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
It’s a four day cycle.
Day One: The wife drops off a computer then rushes out. Next her husband is on the phone demanding both diagnosis and priority repair.
Day Two: They make several phone calls throughout the day becoming angrier, more threatening, and more abusive with each call. Their lives are at a standstill.
Day Three: Their voices on the phone are now almost incoherent, a mix of rage and swearing.
Day Four: I phone advising job now complete, and cost, only to hear, “I’m too busy. I’ll pick it up next week.”
Their cold turkey misery is over.
From Guest Contributor Barry O’Farrell
Barry is an actor in Brisbane, Australia. Other stories by Barry have appeared in Cyclamens and Swords, 50-Word Stories and of course here at A Story In 100 Words.
Jan
Cat Number Four
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Shelly sighed as she looked at the stray. Something in her mind shouted “Run away,” but it was too late. The kitten would be coming with her.
On the cab ride home, as she stroked the plush fur, Shelly recalled the dreams she had as a child. A successful career in business. A handsome husband. Two obedient children. Those dreams were now gone, replaced by this adorable fur ball in her lap.
She entered her home and set the kitten on the floor. There was no turning back. This was cat number four. Shelly was officially a crazy cat lady.