Posts Tagged ‘Love’
Feb
Bottles Of Love
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Nick is aroused by the clinking of bottles in the fridge. Mother’s having another drink.
That old clink, so familiar. It’s a constant sound since Dad took off, piercing Nick’s twelve-year old ears.
Cue Mother’s laughter, cackling. Cracked.
He can’t tell Mother what it means to see tenderness replaced by laughter. Rage. Bills go unpaid, furniture disappears. But night after night, bottles take over. Wine, vodka. Beer.
One night, Nick sneaks downstairs, removes each bottle with methodical coldness. Hurls each one at the floor.
He shatters again and again, surveys the ruins.
Tomorrow, more will appear. He’ll do it again.
From Guest Contributor Yash Seyedbagheri
Yash is a graduate of Colorado State University’s MFA program in fiction. His story, “Soon,” was nominated for a Pushcart. Yash’s stories are forthcoming or have been published in Café Lit, Mad Swirl, 50 Word Stories, and Ariel Chart, among others.
Dec
Love Triumphal
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Mother hides me in the closet.
You won’t go back to that school. I’ll deal with that asshole father.
She smells of lavender perfume and sweat. Not like Dad with his Old Spice, calculated aroma, who mocks Mother. Arranges my future with Headmaster Edgar. Harvard, law.
Men bang at the doors. Buzzwords waft into my musky space: “Custody arrangement,” “Legal orders.”
Fuck off. Mother’s words hold firmness, edge.
Footsteps draw near, unpleasant pounding.
My mother tells them I’m her son. I’m someone who needs love.
I absorb that word, so foreign, while she spars, words rising.
Love. What beautiful form.
From Guest Contributor Yash Seyedbagheri.
Yash is a graduate of Colorado State University’s MFA program in fiction. His work is forthcoming or has been published in journals such as 50 Word Stories, Silent Auctions, City. River. Tree. and Ariel Chart.
Dec
Mother
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I try on names for mythical mother. Mother. Mama. Mom. They hold their own weight. Mother, formal, yet beautiful. Mama, the moon, wistful and luminous. Mom is too plain.
Daddy tells me to stop with the mother stuff. Focus on what I have. He stayed to keep me safe.
But he never loves. Never smiles.
I conjure images. From ten years ago. Maybe they’re dreams. A silhouette. A lavender dress, a temper. Perfume. Words of love, fleeting.
Dad’s all beards and beer. Orders, no words of love.
Love doesn’t pay bills.
I keep trying on names, wishing. I can’t stop.
From Guest Contributor Yash Seyedbagheri
Yash is a graduate of Colorado State University’s MFA program in fiction. A recipient of two Honorable Mentions from Glimmer Train, he has had work nominated for a Pushcart Award and The Best Small Fictions. Yash’s work is forthcoming or has been published in journals such as Unstamatic, Door Is A Jar Magazine, Maudlin House, and Ariel Chart.
Oct
The Three Brigits
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Brigit, Irish Goddess of Poetry, sits at the feet of her Mother of Plenty.
She calls to her sisters, Brigit of Medicine and Brigit of Smithcraft. They watch as humans emerge on Earth.
Brigit of inspiration says to them, “Humans are evolving, so I’ve blessed them with verse. What gifts do you bestow?”
Brigit of healing says, “I share my curiosity so they explore their world and themselves.”
Brigit of the forge answers, “I share my love of craft, the shaping of earthly elements.”
Mother says, “I pray they find peace and joy in our plentiful gifts before destroying them.”
From Guest Contributor Soma Datta (@somaxdatta)
Sep
Illusion
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“Do you love me?”
“Yes. I do love you. Don’t you trust me?”
When his love was gone, the reality hit him and it was very harsh. He wanted his love back in his life but it was impossible. He didn’t know what to do, where to go. He had lost everything. His love was gone forever. When things became unbearable, he lost his mind. He could feel those eyes staring at him. He could hear them laughing and screaming. When things went beyond the walls he tried to resist but failed. His dreams turned wet and became an illusion.
From Guest Contributor Sergio Nicolas
Aug
Quest
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“Are you going to die soon?”
“Yes, I guess.”
“Will you take me with you?”
“Can’t do that”.
“Why not?”
“I just can’t.”
He was in search of true love. His search wasn’t easy. He searched everywhere but never realised how close his love was to him. He had been looking for love at all the wrong places. His quest for love only got longer. He stayed up all night and dreamt all day. The sun went down. The night deepened and darkness hid everything. He thought what could be more mysterious than night when you have secrets to bury.
From Guest Contributor Sergio Nicolas
Aug
Young Love
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Elsie opens the window and the warm breeze enters the room. She sits next to William holding his hand, remembering.
“It’s a beautiful spring day. It reminds me of our first picnic in the park. After eating and talking for hours, you finally leaned my head back, kissed me and wrapped your hands gently around my waist. Your lips were soft and tasted of salt from the chips.” Elsie brushes William’s hair behind his ear. “I can’t believe that has only been a year ago.”
Elsie’s eyes begin to water, and she wonders why dementia has taken her young love.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Jun
Her Greatest Love Affair
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
On her death bed, Jennifer’s thoughts don’t dwell on her husband, despite several decades of marriage and two children together.
It’s Mateo she remembers instead. Jennifer was only meant to spend three days in Barcelona, but she switched out her ticket and let her friends travel on to Italy without her.
She remembers Mateo’s laugh, and the way he mispronounced her name in the cutest way. She remembers the passion when they made love in his flat beneath the open window.
It was only two weeks, but that was enough time to know Mateo was the love of her life.
Jan
Faith, Hope, Etc.
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The next time you’re caught in a really bad place – the kind of place where people are always asking each other, “Oh why can’t they get that baby out of the ground?” – take some frequently used verbs and combine them in a bowl with Hindu magnet incense, a bit of forgotten history, brain fluid, and warm dog’s breath, and then let the mixture sit for 20 minutes, after which you should be able to see a faint glow up there, see it coming over the hill, women wearing sky blue T-shirts that say “Quaker” and waving signs that say “Love.”
From Guest Contributor Howie Good
Howie’s latest collections are I’m Not a Robot from Tolsun Books and A Room at the Heartbreak Hotel from Analog Submissions Press.
Jan
She’s Done Crying
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
She wasn’t crying today. First day in years. All dolled up with makeup and wearing her fanciest dress, she was going somewhere. And she looked good, so good, that even her children smiled a little. Friends had been expecting this, and some stopped to see her. Daniel wasn’t there. He never was. His love for her was long gone. After being gone for fifteen years, even the kids didn’t care about him anymore.
It was time. A loud thump signaled the end. The latches sealed and locked the casket closed. The finality of it was unmistakable. She was done crying.
From Guest Contributor NT Franklin