Posts Tagged ‘Krystyna Fedosejevs’

9
Oct

Caramel Sauce

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

“Sweet,” Dad said, licking his lips.

“Different,” Mom added.

We were seated in the dining room for Thanksgiving dinner. My
sixteen-year-old brother wanted to showcase the skills he had mastered
in a culinary arts course.

“Wait!” he exclaimed.

The rest of us watched him taste the meal before him. An expression of
bewilderment spread across his face. He ran back to the kitchen and
returned.

“I emptied out the wrong pot,” he conceded. ‘The caramel sauce was
meant for apple cake.”

“So what is left for the cake now?” Dad asked while Mom and I
refrained from laughing.

“Turkey gravy.”

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction.

5
Sep

Lure Of The Surf

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Chatter heightened in a resort restaurant.

“She’s a striking beauty,” someone blurted. “Out surfing every day,”
another added. “Can’t miss.”

Ken placed lunch servings before the patrons, imagining running into
someone like that.

When work ended, he headed for the beach. Between relationships,
feeling low, he sought peace by the sea. Surfers dotted distant
sparkling waters. Their faces couldn’t be distinguished.

Next day, Ken served the same group of diners who had talked so
passionately about the mystery woman.

“She’s walking ashore holding a surfboard,” someone shouted.

Everyone, including Ken, turned to look out the window.

It was his sister.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction.

16
Aug

Clothesline

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

“Something landed in our yard,” I announced.

Harold unlocked the backdoor, glanced around.

“Softball,” he hollered. “Next door thugs peering over our fence.
Undies on their clothesline again.”

“I’m cooking. How about returning the ball?”

“Nope. They know where it is,” Harold grumbled holding a newspaper.

When the doorbell rang, he answered. Two boys asked permission to
retrieve their ball.

“Nice kids. Better than the previous neighbors. Remember, they hung
sheets on that silly clothesline to avoid talking with us.”

I looked out the kitchen window.

Our neighbor had taken down the underwear. Sheets strung the length of
the clothesline.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction.

22
Jun

Trepidation

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Landslide. Highway closed. Closest motel, five miles back.

The adjoining restaurant was packed. I sat at a table with a couple
and their three high-spirited children. Rain fogged our window.
Someone outdoors fleeted past us.

“Creek flooded road to my cabin,” an elderly gent spoke as we both
exited. “Why are you here?”

I wiped my eyeglasses pretending not to hear. “Can you please walk me
to my room.”

He laughed. “Why, you scared?”

“I saw a prowler earlier.”

He obliged.

Next day’s news revealed that a bear had to be tranquilized on the
grounds, taken back into the woods.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. Published
at: Nailpolish Stories, 50-Word Stories, 100 word story, 101 Words,
Boston Literary Magazine, From the Depths (Haunted Waters Press),
ShortbreadStories, SixWordMemoirs, and Espresso Stories.

30
May

Nothing To Spare

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Yours? Mine? Arguments. Ideologies differ. Attempt to build bridge between us. Links missing. Structure collapses. Earth? Water? No collaboration. Excuses made. Stubbornness. Misunderstandings. Light? Dark? We try meeting at middle ground. Concluding we can’t agree. Not in thought, time or space. Coffee’s gone cold. I mind. He doesn’t. Ketchup smeared on fridge door. I wipe off. Mustard appears. Grass is greener over there, he says. I don’t care. I prefer wildflowers. He repaints the scene with concrete. I’m younger, by two years exact. Can hardly wait for… Brother leaves for college. Forgets his toothbrush. I throw it into his room.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. Published at: Nailpolish Stories, 50-Word Stories, 100 word story, 101 Words, Boston Literary Magazine, From the Depths (Haunted Waters Press), ShortbreadStories, SixWordMemoirs, and Espresso Stories.

2
Feb

Ice

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

We stopped by a lake. Saw the sky stratified in blues, greys, and white. Felt frosty air thicken.

“She’s golden,” Sonny said as he watched the leader dog devour caribou. “Saved me from drowning through ice.”

I closed the thermos emptied of coffee, positioned myself on the sled. Sonny yelled out a command. The team of six malamutes sprung us forward.

“Reckon we can make two miles before nightfall,” he said. “Set up camp.”

“What’s over there?” I asked.

“Remnants of igloos.”

More commands. Our sled slid faster. Ice crackling beneath us.

Night approached with spirits of the past watching.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. Her work has been published at: Nailpolish Stories, 50-Word Stories, 100 word story, 101 Words, Boston Literary Magazine, From the Depths (Haunted Waters Press), ShortbreadStories, SixWordMemoirs, and Espresso Stories.

18
Jan

In Darkness…Light

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

I helped move your walker over the curb. You listened as I shared my emotional grief. We became friends.

One day I drove to meet you. Snow fell in sheets. The unknown lurked beneath. I swerved, stopped. Not far, the lake within walking distance.

Cabins sent curls of wood stove smoke into late autumn air. I would see yours with a candle at the window and you behind, waiting for me.

Years passed. With them storms I couldn’t control. Passing of friendships, from start to finish. Even ours. Candles lit. Extinguished.

I read your obituary. Memories touched with an afterglow.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. Her work has been published at: Nailpolish Stories, 50-Word Stories, 100 word story, 101 Words, Boston Literary Magazine, From the Depths (Haunted Waters Press), ShortbreadStories, SixWordMemoirs, and Espresso Stories.

5
Dec

The Wait

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Delays. Train late.

My thoughts wander between reality and what ifs. Our last conversation remembered. Your smiling eyes as well.

Did you pack my favorite chocolates?

Scared to visit the ladies’ room in case we miss each other. Two lovers lock in an embrace beside me. A woman narrowly misses my toes pulling luggage. I rise. Look around. Someone takes my seat. I feel a tug at my side.

“Have you been waiting long?” a voice booms above all.

“Do you have money to pay for parking?” I ask. “My wallet was stolen.”

You tell me you forgot the chocolates.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. Her work has been published at: Nailpolish Stories, 50-Word Stories, 100 word story, 101 Words, Boston Literary Magazine, From the Depths (Haunted Waters Press), ShortbreadStories, SixWordMemoirs, and Espresso Stories.

14
Nov

Light

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

You leapt forward with clear resolve. Left me standing in the dark.

I mull over your departure. Review circumstances. My mind turns somersaults, not being able to comprehend.

It wasn’t me, you once said. Not even us. You tried to resolve battles within you. Past demons colliding with ideals you set for the future. Hope slipping into a void.

I offered you help. You refused.

Into the darkness I stare. Light beams from afar. Tempts me to look into a future I can make my own.

I’ll open the door. Be on my way. Knowing you won’t travel with me.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. Her work has been published at: Nailpolish Stories, 50-Word Stories, 100 word story, 101 Words, Boston Literary Magazine, From the Depths (Haunted Waters Press), ShortbreadStories, SixWordMemoirs, and Espresso Stories.

5
Oct

Locked

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Depression lives with me. Locks my mind in a formidable place. It allows limited interactions with the outside world. Pushes aside the people who love me.

When I feel ready to emerge, it tempts me to abandon the thought. I’d peer out of windows opened to the world and sniff the air. Then, recoil. Preferring the comfort of what I know to something new.

Today, its hold is difficult to resist. A backpack filled with textbooks stays put in my bedroom. The bed becomes my refuge. The pillow, a sponge for tears.

The lock on my school locker remains locked.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. Her work has been published at: Nailpolish Stories, 50-Word Stories, 100 word story, 101 Words, Boston Literary Magazine, From the Depths (Haunted Waters Press), ShortbreadStories, SixWordMemoirs, and Espresso Stories.