Posts Tagged ‘Mind’
Oct
His Stuff
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Junk: garbage to some, treasure to others, clutter at best, navigational obstacle on flooring, the cause of falls and injury…
Antonio learned firsthand. The architect of his own disaster, he sat idly on an easy chair, arm in cast, pondering what to do with all his stuff.
Quite unexpectedly a lightbulb lit up his mind, showing him the way. Creativity reawakened. His heart warmed with new purpose. He sprung to work.
Praises from the artistic community accelerated his mission. Photos of his unique collages went viral. He was crowned ‘artist extraordinaire’.
…all because of the ‘junk’ in his humble abode.
From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs
Sep
Consequence Of Failure
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Dale stares at the target. Everything is riding on him. The difference between victory and defeat. The difference between eternal glory and a lifetime of infamy.
Dale takes a deep breath and bounces the ball three times. He focuses his mind on this simple act he’s done a million times. He refuses to look at his teammates, or listen to the fans nervously watching from the stands.
If he misses, his family will receive death threats. He’ll be retired in shame.
Dale releases the ball. He doesn’t need to watch to know it’s clanked off the front of the rim.
Jul
Sorrow
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I browsed old photographs and hoped it would ease my sorrow. It was two weeks since he passed, and the heartache was unbearable, my chest heavy. I collapsed on the couch and clutched a picture in my hand. I revisited that day in my mind. He had just bought me a large pretzel and we were about to go on the Ferris wheel. Mom took the picture of us right before the ride. He looked so happy, his arm around me smiling, mustard on my lip.
If he only knew how sorry I was. Now he’ll never know.
“Goodbye, Daddy.”
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
May
She’s Already Made Up Her Mind
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
She’s already made up her mind.
Howard doesn’t see it. He tries bargaining, apologizing (without ever saying the words I’m sorry), pleading. When that fails, out come the threats, the fits of anger, the hints at suicide. He thinks about hitting her, because it’s just so unfair, but he throws his phone agains the wall instead.
It’s worse that she doesn’t get angry at his anger. She’s quiet. Resolute.
He tries convincing her he’ll be better. But his apologies are just excuses. He still refuses to say he’s sorry, wouldn’t matter if he did.
She’s already made up her mind.
Feb
Are We All Bound In Hell?
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The quantum traveler reviewed history yet again.
Age of change?
Age of reality?
Watching the Mandela effects replace known history?
Or a mind swapped into a shifted realm?
For?
In Abe Lincoln’s election 1860 only 2 parties ran. Not 4.
Lincoln according to Hillary Clinton and myself was a senator.
The question really is does any of it matter?
Or is this all some sort of dream?
Science confirms we live in a simulator.
So a test is expected at the end of a simulated training run.
Is life the test or is hell just all there is to expect?
From Guest Contributor Clinton Siegle
Feb
Interview
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
When I stepped out of the car, I took a deep breath and cleared my mind.
I hadn’t been interviewed in years and now older, I didn’t know what my chances were of getting hired. My friend recommended me to the department head, and I hoped that would get my foot in the door.
I had my briefcase in hand with an excellent portfolio and references. What more would they want?
I opened the door and entered the office only to be told by the receptionist that the manager had an emergency and I’d have to come back another day.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Dec
What In Hell Is A Soul?
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The super highway of data flowing back to the Dyson Sphere brought several questions to mind. Are all the math numbers being crunched supposedly from bitcoin to dogecoin just souls caught in the Mandela effect? Seemed illogical. And yet?
The more one reviews the simulator of life. The more questions one has to think about. Does thinking make anything right? No.
And often times thoughts bring about new ideas. The question is any of this real?
Then the realization even if this was not real. Here I am today. And here you are too? Which begs the question in hell.
From Guest Contributor Clinton Siegle
Sep
Death Of Humanity Or Earth?
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Déjà vu? Exactly when did Japan decide to kill an ocean? 2022? Or 2024? Or this coming Thursday? ‘Tis a question of the mind, it would seem. Meaning?
Each of those dates Japan had decided to let lose their nuclear waste into the ocean. The next question is Indian ocean or Pacific? Which will die? A third of the living creatures in the sea died, and a third of the ships were destroyed. To hope for salvation. And realize that governments of the world are fighting UFOs or God or gods? It makes reality kind of fictional today. Doesn’t it?
From Guest Contributor Clinton Siegle
Aug
Repose
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The warmth of the spring sun filled my body with repose. I laid back and looked up at the sky. The blueness bright and cheery awakened my eyes to ebullience.
I let the small rowboat drift on its own while the sound of ducks quacked and flapped their wings bathing in the lake. Nature was all around me. Birds chirped, on the shore frogs hopped, crabs crawled on the sand, and tree leaves quietly blew in the slight breeze.
I closed my eyes and soaked it all in, storing every sound and image in my mind.
Tomorrow, I start anew.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Jul
A Boy I Knew
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
A boy I knew killed a man. Lost his mind. Shaved his head. His face on the news was an open-mouthed scream, soundless. His eyes so round, searching. I whispered to the screen: please blink. I said it like ice in his mouth, like the way he’d look up at stars puncturing the still night sky, the cold air, too many angles of his body pushing out, knees and elbows and chin. I said it without hope. When this boy was mine, he danced and wide-smiled and kissed and laughed. His voice rang out, ethereal, hit the earth like rain.
From Guest Contributor Beth Mead