Posts Tagged ‘Love’


Final Act

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Scott stared at the blank screen and pondered how to begin his obituary. Prone to bouts of depression, solitude, and introspection, Scott Beeker lived a quiet life filled with anger, passion, and, most importantly, love. Yes, that sounded nice, he thought. During the final years of his life he traveled the country in search of romance and adventure. He found both one night last May in the basement of a restaurant in downtown Los Angeles. There was so much to tell, wasn’t there? So many stories that were more interesting than he’d first thought. If only there was more time.

From Guest Contributor Dan Slaten


Grief Group

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

“It’s only been eleven months,” said the other woman afterwards.

“This’ll probably surprise you.”

“You’re attracted to one of the guys in our group?”

“Ha! No, what I miss most is the comfortable, predictable ways Ben and I had. But real love? It disappeared years ago.”

“Real love? You don’t know how lucky you were!”

“Yeah. Part of me likes being on my own again. Still…”

“So you’ll go for the passion next time?”

“Next time? My libido’s semi-retired. So I think it’d be more like us both coming home from work, and just drinking wine together at day’s end.”

From Guest Contributor Gerald Kamens


La Piedra

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

I was once asked a question. In fact, it was the most important question in the history of the world.

The question was so immense that it should have been saved for God himself in the afterlife.

It covered love and hate and fact and fiction and everyone and everything at once.

Naturally, I wanted to answer, but my throat froze and my eyes turned to stone like those of a statue. If my heart throbbed, I wasn’t there enough to feel it.

Honestly, how’s a piece of shit like me supposed to know if everything happens for a reason?

From Guest Contributor Branko Tubic



by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Gary’s gasping two-hand tap against the wall earned second place in the breaststroke. Pete had less time to breathe.

First in the butterfly – their final high school triumph shared.

Later, they met in the shower. Whispers were overpowered by streaming water.

Gary’s kiss goodbye burned as a beloved’s should.

“You’re sure? My heart…so damn broken.” A lump choked his every word.

“Me, too.” Gary held him. “But we’ll be one thousand miles apart.”

Later, Pete laid in the tall grass behind the aquatic center. Silver-voiced male cicadas polished their mating song in desperation, chanting for a miracle.

From Guest Contributor Embe Charpentier


Ah, Love

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

“I need a man that can put a ring on my finger.”

“I’ll get you one as soon as possible, baby!”

“I deserve someone better.”

“I can be better. I swear I can!”

“I need someone that will always be there for me.”

“And I can do that! I’ll be here, there, anywhere! Just name it!”

“I want a guy that will actually listen to me.”

“I’m listening, sweetie. My ears are all yours.”

“Somebody that loves me.”

“I do!”

“I need a man that is guaranteed to please me in bed.”

” . . . I don’t think this is going to work.”

From Guest Contributor Patrick Winters


I Stole A Baby

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

And I’m sorry. I stole a blue-eyed toe-headed overalled emptiness because I
Just couldn’t help myself. She was climbing a fence, she was smelling a tree. She was a whip snapping wet wings. She was a sky that could hold anything.

I fed her square meals of television, eggs, and ambition, served rare. She ate the garnish, grew smaller and smaller until she was gifted and talented—pretty new scales, shiny black shoes worth the pinch. Now it’s not clear whether, if I keep tightening the belt, she will ever be able to disappear.

In my defense, I love her.

From Guest Contributor Brook Bhagat

Brook holds a BA from Vassar College and an MFA in Writing from Lindenwood University. She teaches college writing and is the co-owner and chief editor of Her nonfiction, poetry, and flash fiction have appeared in Creations Magazine, Little India, Outpost, Nowhere Poetry, and The Syzygy Poetry Journal.


His Name Is Death

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Tears flowed down her face.

The chain broke as the coffin was lowered.

She gasped and covered her face. She wanted to run, but her love for him kept her standing in front of his grave.

The grave-keeper struggled with the chain and the casket. He pulled the chain, causing the casket to drop into the grave.

The lady fainted when the casket entered the grave.

The grave-keeper said, “Carry her and put her into the hearse. I’ll bury him. Then, we will go to the hall.”

She woke up and said, “Death.”

“That was his name?”

She nodded. “Death.”

From Guest Contributor Larry Sells



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.


I’m Alive

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

People come and go, they fuss and say they love me while doing everything that I cannot. They touch my arm, but I don’t feel it. They talk to me, but I cannot reply. Their mobile lives allow them freedom to gaze upon beauty or hide from the disgusting whenever they please, but I will forever remain seated in my chair, staring at the projections that appear on my television screen. My fault or not, a single moment brought me to this place; a car accident I barely remember. This is my life now, but at least I’m alive, right?

From Guest Contributor Michael Atherton



by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

I saw a comet yesterday. It came as though from nowhere, soaring across the deep blue expanse of sky inset with bright stars. Watching it, I felt youthful again, glowing with vibrant dreams and astronomical aspirations—reborn like a phoenix from the ashes of adulthood.

In a moment of euphoria, I closed my eyes and wished for the love of my life. The fiery tail ripped through the night, searching for my soulmate. When I opened my eyes, my wife was standing before me.

Then I remembered—comets are hard, icy rocks, and they suck the life from the sun.

From Guest Contributor Taylor Shepeard