Posts Tagged ‘Leaf’
May
The Last Leaf In Autumn
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Grayson watched the oak tree at all hours, day and night. Even when sleeping for short intervals, he’d installed a monitoring system to protect against intruders.
He’d become an unexpected celebrity in his town when it was officially determined the last autumn leaf clinging to a branch was in his yard. Local police immediately established a protective perimeter, followed by the FBI and military. Grayson wasn’t fully convinced of their trustworthiness however, hence his own added security .
After all, if there were no more leaves, than climate change was real, and he hated for his wife to be proven right.
Mar
Gold Leaf
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The Egyptians used ocean-faring vessels during the height of their empire, and modern Peruvian fishermen still use similar reed boats. One’s design is to transport a balanced soul into the afterlife, and the other is to sustain the body in life, a means of transport for a trip through time into a world of unimaginable outcomes.
It’s the most exquisite vessel I have ever seen, and I stood there admiring its craftsmanship before I continued my assault. As the sun rises and illuminates the boat’s hint of golden design, depicting Osiris’s ascent from Hades, my wrath has reached its zenith.
From Guest Contributor J. Iner Souster
Feb
The Curse Of Forest Mother
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Muma is crying like a child while we are watching the river runs red and dead. The hills above us are crumbling away into the deep, giant sinkholes. The ancient forests are cut down or burned. Muma’s hand is so cold, her body is trembling like a leaf. Muma’s lips are motionless but I can hear her silent curse…
Now I understand the meaning of those untold words and feel the real wonder and power of her inner voice. The end is near because we are human and humans must be punished for all crimes against our dear Mother Nature.
From Guest Contributor Ivan Ristic
Jul
Raking Leaves
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Raking leaves
is an exercise in the good-enough.
You will never get them all.
You come to prize
the strong, steady stroke of the rake,
the appropriate armful that you lift
into the waiting wheelbarrow.
The maple leaves which from a distance
appear two-tone, red and silver,
reveal a soul-satisfying palette
from crimson to lavender.
A leaf falls in your hair and tickles your neck.
You cover the lily beds
with their winter blanket,
a gorgeous quilt
in five-pointed patchwork.
You’re no good at quilting, but it doesn’t matter.
Raking leaves is an object lesson
in Lamott’s “shitty first drafts.”
From Guest Contributor Cheryl 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.
Aug
Futile Gestures
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Leslie struck at the hand as it approached her face.
“Don’t touch me.”
“There’s a leaf in your hair.”
“I can take care of myself.”
Steven remembered when they cared for each other. He’d cook dinner on nights she got home late. She packed a lunch when he had fieldwork, a chocolate bar hidden at the bottom of the bag.
Those thoughtful gestures became less frequent as the fights occurred more often. She perceived every request as an assault on her freedom. She likely had her own side, but he’d stopped caring long ago.
Steven walked away without another word.
Nov
Hope And The Sword
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Face down in pine-needles, Tom could hear rustling undergrowth.
It wasn’t such disturbance of leaf and stalk that might herald the man’s return, but more woodlandy – some creature curious about the blood…his blood.
Gauging the effort required, he summoned what energy remained and thrust.
His right arm collapsed, the incline rolling him onto his back.
The unobstructed air was invigorating. He’d never appreciated that before. He coughed half way through a breath, spluttering blood.
He managed to avoid choking. He might just survive–
Now he could see the man hadn’t left at all.
The shooter raised the gun again.
From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid