Posts Tagged ‘Love’
Jan
Displacement
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Love at first sight, different people from different cultures.
Driving my Pajero along the rugged coastline of Mayo. A fortnight I had lived in Ireland. Banished for my own safety; a key witness in court against something dark, dangerous. Displaced from my family for doing what was right, exiled into the night. The previous eve I lost myself in similar lanes, crying.
In daylight the shadows dispersed. He was in his tractor, he belonged, descendant of families forever etched in the Irish soil. Appointed by chance as my gardener, meeting by fate. I never once doubted. Three years married. Aliens.
From Guest Contributor Kerry Valkyrie Kelly
Dec
Two Birds
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Tom and Ruth had been married forty years. The heart monitor was beeping with every breath Ruth took.
“I’m going to miss you,” Tom said. His weathered hands were one with Ruth’s. Two streams of tears ran from his eyes.
“I’ve lead a good life. I’ll be okay,” Ruth said.
“I don’t know how I’ll…” Tom asked.
“We’ll be together soon enough, love. The children need you. You have to be strong for them.”
She closed her eyes quietly. A bird took off and flew high into the clouds towards the sun. Its counterpart sat pensively, wondering where to go.
From Guest Contributor Steve Colori
Steve was born in 1986 and during undergrad he developed schizoaffective disorder. Over the years he has worked hard to overcome the disorder and help others while doing so. Steve has published thirteen essays with Oxford Medical Journals, he has written freelance for Mclean Hospital since 2011, he writes a column with The Good Men’s Project titled “Steve Colori Talks Mental Health,” and he has a memoir available on Amazon, “Experiencing and Overcoming Schizoaffective Disorder.” A quote he has come to live by is “To Improve is to Change; To be Perfect is to Change Often.” (Winston Churchill)
Nov
The Reading
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The flashing sign blinds Marissa’s eyes. The door says enter, and she pushes it open with a sigh.
“Please sit,” says the woman in flamboyant blue and green gypsy clothes. “I assume you want a reading.”
“Yes, good and bad.”
The woman takes Marissa’s right hand and reads her palm. “I don’t see a future for you. There will be no success or love in your life. You will die tragically and without warning.”
Marissa jolts in her chair. “I’m not up to this. Here’s your money.”
Anxious and distracted, Marissa doesn’t see the car coming. She dies on impact.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Oct
Deadly Hour
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
John, riding down the dark empty road at three o’clock in the morning, takes a swig of beer.
“I can’t believe Amy is marrying that jerk! She said she loved me. That lying witch!”
Inebriated, he swerves in and out of lanes, his vision blurry. He presses on the accelerator just missing an approaching car. The driver honks his horn profusely at Johnny. Laughing, Johnny takes his eyes off the road and crashes head on into a tree.
Lying dead with his head on the steering wheel and his thumb pressing on Amy’s cell number, the phone begins to dial.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Aug
He Will Think I Don’t Love Him Anymore
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Seven-year-old Ava Mendez fidgets with Mimi’s cellphone in her lap.
Abruptly it rings. She smacks the green button. A recording informs her it’s a free call from her daddy, being recorded.
Press one to accept. Hastily she slams her little finger onto the keypad.
Horror grips her sullen face as tears flow uncontrollably, realizing she pressed the number two in haste.
Nothing but dial tone. She wails for her Mimi. “I have to talk to my daddy,” she cries.
Daddy, in a holding cell waiting for deportation, has not forgotten nor heard her angelic voice in three days and nights.
From Guest Contributor Yknow
Jul
Give Me Words, Paint Me Colours
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“Tell me words that describe your universe,” she begs, “give me images for what I can’t see.”
“How? Your eyes only detect thirty-eight colours; I count them in thousands.”
She shakes her head and bends to kiss my hands. She knows I don’t have them, but she’s happy with the illusion. It’s another truth she searches for.
“Let me share your reality.”
Not a chance, I think, but I can’t force myself to say it. “I’ll try, human.”
For the sake of our impossible love, for that morning when your world remained silent, for the memory of a destroyed planet.
From Guest Contributor Russell Hemmell
Russell is an alien from Mintaka snuggled into a (consenting) human host. Recent fiction on Gone Lawn, Not One of Us, Typehouse Literary Journal, and elsewhere.
Jun
My Armor
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
He was my life, my armor, my smile, my savior, my everything. Lost him! I Will never see him again. I’m sad, grief stricken, but not devastated. I did my best, was there for him with everything required to always keep him going. I did love him more than anybody else and we shared the same feeling. He loved me more than anybody else. His kisses I miss. I don’t cry but long for him secretly. All day I laugh, I’m merry with my toddler. The moment I close my eyes he’s there waiting for me.
I sleep more now…
From Guest Contributor Manmeet S Chadha
Jun
A Fool For Love
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Timothy stepped out into the cold evening air and briskly walked to the flower shop to buy a dozen red roses to propose to his girlfriend Isabelle. He had the ring in his inside coat pocket and his proposal branded in his memory.
Timothy pulled out his wallet. “A dozen red roses, please.”
“Big night, sir,” the cashier asked.
“I’m proposing to my girlfriend,” Timothy answered while fumbling for change.
“Good luck, to you.”
“Thanks.”
When Timothy arrived, stunned from what he saw through the living room window, he dropped the roses. Isabelle and his brother Tony were passionately kissing.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Apr
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
Apr
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