Posts Tagged ‘Morning’
Apr
Breakfast
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“Mel, you don’t happen to have any rat poison on you, do you?”
“What’d you mean by that?”
“Well…it’s a kind of poison that you use on…”
“I know what rat poison is, Ed.”
They were at the counter of AL’S DINER, eating their breakfasts.
“You don’t need to get upset.”
“Look, Ed, I’m trying to finish my oatmeal.”
“I know. But I asked Marge already.”
Marge was the waitress.
“She said they didn’t have any to take care of the rat that’s been running around the place this morning.”
“What?”
“The one there…That one, by your foot.”
From Guest Contributor David Sydney
Mar
Mel Finishes the Week
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
His week at the coin-operated laundromat finally over, Mel wished for nothing more, after a meal of mac & cheese, than a night of uninterrupted sleep.
So, now in REM sleep, he was able to dream, to put his Uncle’s laundromat behind him.
To recover.
But what the…
It was his Uncle Leo, bursting into Mel’s dream of sleeping on laundry. There’s something pleasant about lying on towels and underwear at your work.
“I don’t pay you to sleep. Take this mop, Mel.”
All that night he spent mopping.
Mopping and mopping linoleum until the morning, when he awoke exhausted.
From Guest Contributor David Sydney
Sep
Life
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
When they were at war, everything was easy. They could yell at each other, throw pillows and then sleep in different rooms, sulking and ignoring each other.
But when they were at peace, the silence became so thick it choked him.
They stayed like this for years, until one morning she woke up and the only thing left of him was the Jasmine tea he drank every evening and a letter on the Fridge.
But her?
She liked to fit people into her world like puzzle pieces so she removed the note, lit a fire and watched it burn, unopened.
From Guest Contributor Will Simon
Aug
That Summer Feeling
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Stephanie walks from her apartment to the subway every morning on her way to work. During the summer, the sidewalks are crowded with fellow commuters and hawkers and a general hustle and bustle smelling of sweat and petrol.
There’s a viral eagerness that has infected the city on these days, and she’s one of the few people who’s immune. She’s turned off by the aggressive friendliness that so easily tips towards hostility. There’s too much skin and fake pleasantry.
It makes her wonder why so much of her life’s been given over to strangers and people she doesn’t care for.
Aug
Elegantly Wasted
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Tom was an alcoholic. First thing every morning he made himself an extremely dry martini: straight gin, but in a martini glass to feel classy. In the evening, he put on a tuxedo and drank champagne. Not sparkling wine. The French stuff.
Tom worked downtown. He took long lunches at the club and came back to the office smelling of mint and tangerine. He was a partner, so no one ever complained. Not to his face.
Tom considered himself a functioning alcoholic.
His ex-wife and her phalanx of lawyers considered Tom a threat to harm himself and those around him.
Jul
Fallen Fruit
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The peach tree in the yard was surrounded by fallen fruit, all of it shockingly well preserved, as if each one had been individually painted there. The house itself was in worse shape, with pealing paint, overgrown ivy, and several cracked window panes. No one lived there anymore but ghosts.
Sarah took in the scene from her car. She’d been nervous all morning, not knowing what to expect, but now that they were here, she felt nothing. She was simply numb.
“Let’s go.” Henry drove away. Sarah stared at the old neighborhood and wondered why people take pleasure from nostalgia.
Jul
Perhaps
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Derek’s wedding day had arrived. As a child of divorce he desperately wanted to know that what he shared with Mandy was true love. So on the morning of his nuptials, he visited Solanaca, the neighborhood witch.
Solanaca was known for her ability to read the future and cast hexes. For 100 dollars, she offered a potion that would compel the imbiber to answer one question truthfully.
Derek gladly paid the cash. Superstition prevented him from seeing Mandy before the ceremony, so he waited until the reception to slip the potion into her champagne.
“Do you truly love me?”
“Perhaps.”
May
The Walk
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I must be insane walking the streets at 3 o’clock in the morning, but I need to clear my head and the air helps.
A dog lunges at me from the alley nearly biting my ankle. It growls and leaves. I head toward my apartment since I wouldn’t get any thinking done after that.
I’m about to put the key in the door when a tap on my left shoulder startles me and I jump.
It’s my son Jameson.
“Dad, I want help, I need help.” His beseeching voice says.
I unlock the door and leave it open behind me.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Apr
Snow
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The first thing I did last night was set the alarm for seven o’clock in the morning. I didn’t know the snow the weather forecaster predicted was going to start so early.
There was a message that my interview had been canceled so I got back under the covers and my dog Charlie snuggled next to me.
Large snowflakes pressed against the window and the wind howled. Charlie let out a growl and went back to sleep. I closed my eyes and wished the snow would stop.
When I awakened later that afternoon, the snow ceased, and the sun shined.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Mar
The Bed One Lies In
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Brother declared himself ‘nonconformist,’ deciding back in grade school that rules and rituals mattered not.
Many blamed him in situations for his lack of respect. He claimed he simply had no interest.
The breaking point was the forging of Dad’s signature on a cheque. Mother decided on a punishment.
“You have to lie in the bed you made,” she grunted.
“I never make my bed,” he grinned.
He broke the curfew, not returning on time. In the morning it was learned he crashed his motorcycle into a cement wall.
Mother stopped making his bed. No one slept in it again.
From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs
Krystyna writes mainly short fiction and poetry.