Posts Tagged ‘Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher’
Mar
Mending Hearts
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Olivia’s heart is broken since her husband Stan’s death. His cancer so brutal, she’d weep alone in the bathroom. Her spirits lift slightly when her son, his wife, and their daughter visit, but when they leave it’s difficult to be alone. One morning Olivia is awakened by stomping on the stairs. She regrets giving her son the spare key. The bedroom door bursts open and her granddaughter Molly is holding a white and brown spotted purring kitten. “Grandma, this is your new husband,” little Molly says. “Can you name him Stan like grandpa,” she asks. Some hearts can be mended.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Feb
Host
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I have chips and salsa ready for when the family arrives for Super Bowl Sunday.
The last time I hosted, I ran out of snacks and had to drive to the convenience store to stock up. I missed the most important play of the game and it’s not the same watching it on DVR.
They’re coming up the driveway.
I go to get the beer and my refrigerator sticks. I have to yank it and all the beer bottles fall, break, and spill on the floor.
Looks like I’ll be heading to the store and watching the game on DVR.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Feb
Wilted Lily
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Sarah awakened from a frightening dream, her nightgown pasted to her body in sweat. Her husband, Mark, was still asleep, so she gently lifted the covers, went to the bathroom, and splashed cool water on her face. She stared at her reflection in the mirror and remembered every detail.
It was her wedding day. At the altar she couldn’t breathe, her body slowly disappeared, and her bouquet of lilies fell to the ground.
“It was just a bad dream,” she whispered to herself.
She softly kissed her husband and went back to sleep.
Under the bed, rested a wilted lily.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Feb
Inspiration
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Beads of sweat dripped down my face as I hurried into the door of the Royal Museum of Fine Arts. People gathered at one painting, “The Virgin and Child Surrounded by Angels,” by Jean Fouquet.
I pushed my way through the crowd until I reached the exquisite masterpiece. The Virgin’s voluptuous breast was exposed for her hungry child that sat naked on her lap, her hand gently around his waist. Dozens of angels surrounded them while her crown glowed, and she sat high in her throne.
I stood awestruck.
That was all the inspiration I needed to begin painting again.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Jan
Positive
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
It’s New Year’s Eve and Chad is in quarantine. His Covid-19 test came back negative the first time and he’s waiting on the next one. He doesn’t feel sick and he’s confident the test will come back negative.
With champagne in hand and the ball getting ready to drop, his dog Buddy, cuddles by the warmth of the fireplace like any other night, unaware of a new year ahead.
He watches the lonely host at Times Square shivering from the cold as he counts down. The ball drops and Chad chugs his champagne.
The next afternoon Chad’s test is positive.
From Guest Contributor Lisa Scuderi-Burkimsher
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
Dec
Exquisite
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The naked model sits, head bent, arms and hands relaxing. Her beauty is undeniable with pure white skin and long toned legs.
The room is quiet. Everyone is concentrating on brushstrokes and creating a perfect painting, while my quick brush movements against the canvas are remarkable. The background is colorful and the lines of her body immaculate.
“Well done, Nicholas,” says the instructor and pats my shoulder.
Eyes are on me and coldness fills the room.
Ignoring the glares, I concentrate on the finishing touches.
Before me is an exquisite, brilliant image.
My love. The lady who stole my heart.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Dec
Warm Memory
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
A friend says he thinks of Andy Warhol and his pop art when he sees Campbell’s soup cans. But when I see Campbell’s soup cans, I think of my mother.
When younger, I would come home from school on frigid days to the smell of Campbell’s tomato soup, anxious to sit and have the warmth sooth my chilled body.
Now an old man, I still sip Campbell’s soup and remember my mother’s radiance lighting up the room and her deep blue eyes sparkling under the overhead light in our old kitchen. She’s been gone years, but I feel her presence.
From Guest Contributor Lisa Scuderi-Burkimsher
Nov
Golden Memory
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Hannah clutches the picture close to her chest and closes her eyes, a smile on her lips as she envisions her young daughter dancing, her steps light, and the sunshine gleaming on her golden blond hair.
“Move, Jew,” the man shoves Hannah into the train. Everyone is cramped, and the foul stench is unavoidable.
Hannah couldn’t help but stare at the frail woman beside her.
“Is that your daughter?”
“Yes, we were separated.”
“You’ll be with her soon,” says the woman.
The train comes to a halt and the door slides open.
The air is filled with a snowy substance.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher