Posts Tagged ‘Life’

20
Mar

The Sound Of What’s Coming

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

There was a guillotine in the basement. People in the surrounding buildings reacted by hurling rocks and bottles. The whole thing felt suspicious, like someone was trying to send me a message. So I started cutting out images of crashes and mass shootings from the newspaper and transferring them onto the surface of prison-issued soaps. Then I figured out a way to do that onto the prison sheets. The residue that accumulated on the floor and walls took on a life of its own. Now what do we do? The window provides enough natural light to keep the snake alive.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

14
Mar

On This, That, And The Other

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Gina peeled each layer of the onion back like it was a metaphor for her own life. That’s why she was disappointed to reach the center and find nothing was there.

This was the danger with metaphors. You may lose control of them so that they take on a life of their own, like a dog that bites the hand that feeds it, or a gift looking a horse in the mouth, and then nothing makes sense anymore.

Or maybe it’s not metaphors she’s thinking of, but clichés. There is, after all, nothing original about an onion with no meaning.

5
Mar

The Turning Point

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The crash jolted them awake, as they careened into the seats in front of them. Later, the doctors would say that the fact they’d been asleep upon impact is what saved them. 27 dead, only two survivors.

The siblings would always look back at that bus crash as the turning point. Not the decision to run away, not what they were running away from, but the accident that sent them to the hospital, months of rehabilitation, and then life in a foster home.

For Megan, it was the perfect escape. For Matthew, he’d forever regret not having died that night.

15
Feb

Change

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

On the working class tube filled with out-of-work laborers, gangs and students, Reyva hugged her backpack on her lap and gazed at the ads above her head. 

“Change your Life! Travel with Distant Horizons!” 

She ditched her unfinished schoolwork and went. 

At Distant Horizons, she lied about her age. She wasn’t afraid to make adult choices.

They strapped her to a table. Fear gripped her, but they stripped it away. Gave her a new body, a new purpose.

Within the storms of Thacyline, she rode the winds on golden wings and avoided looking towards Earth. 

She could never go back.

From Guest Contributor Tyrean Martinson

11
Feb

Patience Is The Hardest Virtue In Life

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Blessed be the Gods that bring forth the life I’ve longed for in this grove I thought I’d decay in. Even Warriors have weakness—an Achilles’ heel. Mine: the matching Fates tread to be woven with my golden strand.

The battle, memorable, left me stripped of my armor and shield. Broken and defeated. Among bare trees. Their roots burrowing down constricting me, but I learned to live with the pain.

Over a decade, I’ve waited for destiny to come home. Embrace me with open arms and a genital kiss. Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos, you knew he’d come back for me.

From Guest Contributor McKenzie A. Frey 

5
Feb

The Gift

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Today the mailman came with a special delivery package. It was wrapped in plain brown paper and bore no return address. I was required to sign for it, which I did, and watched the mailman jump in an unmarked black van and speed away. I took the box inside and set it on the kitchen island. I wondered who might have sent it. I have no friends or family. It’s a peaceful life. Then I heard the screaming—a man’s screaming. Hard to make out at first, but once you keyed into it, you couldn’t stop hearing it for anything.  

From Guest Contributor Meeah Williams

14
Dec

Graveyard Shift

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

There was an emptiness to everything. Even the space between the minutes lacked connective tissue, so that time no longer flowed with any regularity. Josey was left with nothing but her thoughts to fill the void that descended upon the convenience store after midnight.

She’d divide each 15-minute chunk into 91 cents. That’s how much she made, after taxes and withholdings. It hardly seemed worth it, and she’d stare out at the empty highway and live an entire lifetime during every span, dreaming of a life where she’d never married, had never given birth.

Until even her imagination was empty.

11
Dec

The Subway

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Standing three feet tall Travis was wearing a Celtics hat, jersey, and green shoes on the subway with his Dad.

“Dad, why is that guy sleeping??”

“Shhh… you don’t want to wake him.”

“I’m awake, don’t mind me none.” Dressed in tattered clothing, he sipped a bottle from a paper bag.

“What are you drinking?” Travis asked.

“That’s not our business, Travis.”

“This is just what you drink when you’re lonely and life isn’t working out.”

“You can hang out with us if you want.”

With watery eyes he stared outside. “If only more people were like you.”

From Guest Contributor Steve Colori

13
Nov

Flower Girl

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Springtime breeds passion. It is the riotous pheromones.

A vision wanders down the garden path in a sundress that waves in the breeze like the surrounding petals. Swaying, they dance together. Her radiant smile and obvious love for the flirting blossoms is what originally caught my attention. She gently sprinkles water.

One of her solar smiles would make my life soar. She doesn’t notice me among all this teeming beauty. Nonetheless, in love-struck desire, I sit taller as she approaches. Surely, if she can adore flowers so fully, I can cherish her as much. If only I wasn’t a cactus.

From Guest Contributor Bill Diamond

6
Nov

A Wandering Soap Opera

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

I feel like a gull getting sucked into a jet engine. Furniture salesmen, spies, serial killers, etc., take turns following me through town. I recognize them by their nondescript appearance. Private lives are now being lived in public. We’re a wandering soap opera. That’s the problem with putting Velveeta on enchiladas. And nobody has to ask what the Kremlin thinks about all of this. Traces are visible from the air. I just want some semblance of normality back in my life, some sort of quiet, and my heart to stop furiously pedaling as if there were actually somewhere to go.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie co-edits the journals UnLost and Unbroken with Dale Wisely.