Posts Tagged ‘Moment’
Feb
My Setting Sun
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
We sit on the beach watching a summer sunset, foamy saltwater encroaching upon our bare toes. Distant mountains cut jagged lines in the sky. We’re laughing, your warm arm around my shoulders. I glow in your rare happiness, believing you’ll stay with me always.
I sense you withdrawing as the sun sinks behind the mountains, air chilling as the golden orb dwindles. Just before it disappears, my soul cries: don’t fade away, don’t leave.
The sun pauses, a yolk balancing on the highest peak.
The moment breaks. Your arm falls from my shoulders.
My soul aches as the sun vanishes.
From Guest Contributor Katla Watersin
Nov
On Loving
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
What happens when you keep uttering the same word? One moment, it has a meaning. The next moment, it stops being a word.
Familiarity is the flourishing ground for intimacy. You repeat a word over and over so that you can describe its curves and contours, its light and luster. Rolling it inside your mouth smooths its jutting edges. Running your tongue playfully over it changes its tone. Mixing it up with other words makes it sway to strange rhythms. Wrapped in the warmth of your spit, it tries to germinate.
And, snap!
Familiarity is the flourishing ground for morbidity.
From Guest Contributor Aparna Rajan
Aparna is a research scholar and an aspiring writer, currently living in Mumbai, India.
Oct
Echo Of Inevitability
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Sounds become muffled. All she hears is an echo bouncing off the walls. For an infinitesimal moment her soul levitates, detaching from the present. She looks at the doctor’s face as words grow inaudible. A silent scream explodes from her lungs into an invisible body spasm. A voice in her head continues unrestrained: ‘She’ll be alone” but her mind allows her to compose herself as she kisses minuscule freckles on her daughter’s face. As chubby little fingers wipe off her tears, she peers into the eyes of Innocence, so intrinsic, untainted.
The headstone inscribes: ‘RIP Innocence. Your life starts anew.’
From Guest Contributor Andrea Damic
Amateur photographer and author of micro and flash fiction, Andrea Damic, born in Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina, lives in Sydney, Australia. Her words have been published or are forthcoming in 50-Word Stories, Friday Flash Fiction, Microfiction Monday Magazine, Paragraph Planet, 100 Word Project & TDDR with her art featuring or forthcoming in Rejection Letters, Door Is A Jar Magazine, and Fusion Art’s Exhibitions. One day she hopes to finish and publish her novel. You can find her on TW @DamicAndrea, Facebook or Instagram.
Aug
Multiverse Question?
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Wandering the multiverse. I find the concept of change the bi-word of everything. One day, the illusion spells the reality of a word one way. The next day, the reality spells it another. The definition of wisdom is to come to some understanding? Probably why I still have not mastered how to play the cord of C on a guitar.
If everything changes from one reality to the next. What is the purpose of study? Defining a reality for when the next moment you could be elsewhere seems the definition of absurdity. To waste time trying to understand. Try to succeed.
From Guest Contributor Clinton Siegle
Jul
Night Skies
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Raindrops fell softly with a hiss. Each drop shatters like diamonds when it collides with the earth, leaving a dazzling path that leads back into the darkness. Through the obscurity of night, the city lights are shining.
The air was thick with anticipation for what was to come next, leaving a sense of mystery in its wake.
As I stood there, eyes open to marvel at the majesty of the night sky and the glories of the heavens that filled my view, it felt as if time had slowed down, giving me a moment to breathe and think of home.
From Guest Contributor J. Iner Souster
Jul
Changing
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“You’ve changed,” she said, as I held her in my arms. She had no idea how much, how often! But I wasn’t the man she’d known before, and I could see she’d leave me soon.
There was no time for whining, I needed to act. I spent days shaping the perfect moment to make my move: the roses were divine, the wine an excellent vintage, and moonlight glinted on brass candlesticks. She didn’t see it coming.
Afterwards, I crunched down on her bones, and cleaned my muzzle in the bowl by the door. Then I ran to rejoin my pack.
From Guest Contributor Alastair Millar
Alastair is an archaeologist by training, a translator by trade, and a nerd by nature. His published flash and micro fiction can be found here.
May
A Moment In The Sun
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
He couldn’t believe how amazing it felt to be free of the anguish and suffering he’d endured for so long. He fled this hellhole!
On an outcropping he sat, legs dangling over, watching the tiny ripples in the lake below. Looking towards the rising sun, it seemed to have sped up as it moved across the sky, a shadow of some type, nearly black, just behind it.
He watched as they raced above him, sun in the lead with shadow in tow, heading to the far side of the world. Now motionless, the darkness grew until the sun vanished entirely.
From Guest Contributor J. Iner Souster
Dec
The Dreaming Man
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Calvin approached every situation with the same primary assumption: he was dreaming.
This outlook freed him from the tethers of reality. He lived with a complete disregard for consequence only the dreaming man could fully fathom. It lent his existence a sort of Buddhist clarity, in which only the current moment mattered. He possessed at all times a tremendous sense of self-possession and lucidity, while remaining entirely divorced from the trivial concerns of everyday society.
Now that he had been sentenced to forty-five years to life for first-degree murder, this mindset would be even more of a refuge moving forward.
Nov
The Moment In My Pocket
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Even in your tight orbit of busy and work and home there are moments whose skin slips, crumbles like the dry shell of a red onion, and a person is laid bare in your hands. It stains your fingers, stings your eyes: your sister, a stranger. A student, mother of four, six-month chip in her pocket, stepping off the cliff edge of giving up
but you catch her hand just in time
and you hold the sphere of this moment,
paint it, polish it, and keep it safe
in your pocket
to show to someone
who might give up tomorrow.
From Guest Contributor Brook Bhagat
Brook’s poetry, fiction, non-fiction, and humor have appeared in Monkeybicycle, Empty Mirror Magazine, Rat’s Ass Review, and other journals and anthologies. She is a founding editor of Blue Planet Journal. She is the 2020 winner of A Story in 100 Words’ nature writing contest, and the 2021 winner of Loud Coffee Press’s microfiction contest. She is an assistant professor of English at Pikes Peak Community College and is writing a novel. Her poetry collection, Only Flying, is due out Nov. 16, 2021 from Unsolicited Press. See the book trailer, read her work, and find out about in-person and virtual book launch events at https://brook-bhagat.com/.
Jul
River Of Memories
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Fishel sent his wife and two boys away even though Adella insisted they stay until his fever broke. He wouldn’t hear of it. The “Wolves” could arrive at any moment, and he didn’t want to risk his family.
Fishel’s temperature raged, and he became delirious, his wife a constant vision. Too weak to travel, he went to bed, fell into a deep slumber, and dreamt of his family.
Stomping and yelling awakened him from his pleasant dream.
Four Nazi’s burst through the door, guns pointed at Fishel’s face.
“Get up Jew.”
He obeyed and left a river of memories behind.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher