Posts Tagged ‘Morning’
Sep
Gone
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Twenty years of marriage, twenty years of building a life together. Buying houses and cars. Now she is gone.
For twenty years, she was my everything. The smile in my morning, the sunshine in my day. But now it is dark and quiet.
One argument led to cruel words. Cruel words led to hurt feelings. Hurt feelings took time to heal, but heal they did. Things returned to normal for us. Life continued for us as a couple. Then it happened.
One episode of indiscretion, it wasn’t such a big deal. Deal breaker, she said. She is never coming back.
From Guest Contributor NT Franklin
Jul
Preventing Regret
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The road was empty at two in the morning and felt like a different world.
“We should…go to the strip club…” Jim said slurring his words.
“I don’t know,” I replied. “His wife would kill him. He’d probably screw up.”
“It’s coming up…Just…take us.”
“I’m not so certain.”
“Drop me off and I’ll…I’ll Uber home.”
He hit my arm and pointed. I fiddled through every pre-set radio station.
“Looks like we missed it,” I said.
Two days later we were golfing.
“Thanks for not leaving me there the other night.”
“I didn’t think you remembered that.”
From Guest Contributor Steve Colori
May
Daydreaming
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Morning. Walking to the shops in a daydream, hungover. My mind wanders and takes me somewhere else….
I am sitting at the bar in the Wolf Dog Tavern with John. I ask the landlord to sub me a fifty. The landlord moans, ‘go and cut some lawns and make your own money.’ I tell him that I will have money next week. John was going to cut his lawn by the fish factory.
A lady snaps me out of my reverie, I must have be talking aloud and waving my hands.
‘You alright?’ She asks assuming that I am mad.
From Guest Contributor Declan Kelly
Declan lives in Mayo, Ireland. He is a big fan and follower of Irish heritage, culture, and beer.
May
Sirens
by thegooddoctor in Uncategorized
He’d risen early this morning to plan the house his wife had dreamed of, but the hilltop’s stark beauty had rooted him to the spot.
His tea got cold.
It suddenly seemed a travesty to spoil the land’s personality.
Don’t seek to dominate, Mother Nature whispered, explore me as you would a lover.
He felt his pulse race at the imagery. There were enticing little copses in his eye line.
He wondered if Elaine was up for–
“GRAHAM!” Her voice scattered the erotic thoughts.
He sighed and slouched towards the mobile home.
“Coming.”
He reflected on the nature of sirens.
From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid
Oct
The Bundle
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
He’d always seen the precious bundle as his passport to validation, his means to assuage all the failures of the past. He sought to learn from the wisdom of its sometimes harsh words. It was only two years old, light enough yet to cradle in his arms until he fell asleep in his chair, teary-eyed, yet hopeful.
Each morning there would be either little to feed it, or surfeit enough for an unsightly spurt of growth. It all depended on the postman.
A particularly cruel epithet from an envelope’s maw tipped the scales.
The bundle helps the dry leaves burn.
From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid
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
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.
Jul
Sunday Morning
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Polystyrene-on-glass calls pause. Unknown bird waits. Magpie’s hoarse rattle bobs upon chill breeze, followed by one clipped caw. Wind and distant slumber.
Dog yelp, muffled by intervening streets, punctuates keyboard-click.
Repeated.
Nothing.
Wheeze of diesel engine and hiss of pneumatic tyres upon Tarmac cue pair of voices in garbled conversation, growing as they near.
The dog dips paw into arena of proper barking before relenting, wounded by unanimous indifference.
Then…timeless chorus of seagulls.
All cede to a hesitant wind under sombre sky.
Footfalls.
Children’s voices shatter tableau, announcing subdued urgency of Sunday morning.
Bleakness prevails, yet wind chimes sound.
From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid
May
Martinet
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
He enters the classroom on Monday morning.
They ignore him, will not be silent as he speaks, chatting about the weekend, this and that, cocooned in subcultures he would not understand.
He cannot break in to quell their energy, bend them to his will, force the curriculum upon them, teach them ‘respect,’ nor corral them down the narrow path his life has taken.
He would beat them if he could but, thwarted by laws he would repeal, he can only shout.
“Shut up! Listen!” he bawls, getting their attention, momentarily.
“Why?” one of them simply asks.
He has no reply.
From Guest Contributor Ian Fletcher
Born and raised in Cardiff, Wales, Ian has an MA in English from Oxford University. He has had poems and short stories published in The Ekphrastic Review, Tuck Magazine, 1947 A Literary Journal, Dead Snakes, Schlock! Webzine, Short-story.me, Anotherealm, Under the Bed, A Story In 100 Words, Poems and Poetry, Friday Flash Fiction, and in various anthologies.
Mar
The Last Call Before A Trek
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
He woke up early that Sunday morning excited to go on a trek. His friends had been calling since morning, planning the route, discussing apparel. He was enthusiastic. It was a perfect getaway from the usual day-to-day stress. Chirping birds, a cool breeze, and serenity!
Last night had been disastrous. His wife was not satisfied with their sex life. She was adventurous and experienced. He had made bad decisions at work. To top it all off, he’d brawled with a friend.
He was about to leave when his phone rang. His ex-girlfriend said, “I love you”. He skipped the trek.
From Guest Contributor Manmeet Chadha
Manmeet is an Alumunus from the London School of Economics & Political Science. He works in India as an Economist & Writer.