Posts Tagged ‘Parents’

18
May

The Origin Of Myth

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

As far back as anyone can remember, Lulumak stole. When he was young, the elders told Lulumak’s parents that this was a sign of intelligence but once he matured into warriorhood, the elders warned Lulumak that he would be punished if he stole again. A day after Lulumak was warned, Chinoon caught him stealing fish from Yellow Hair’s net. The next day a few elders told Lulumak they discovered a rich fishing area and invited him to fish with them. When the elders returned without Lulumak, they told the tribe that Nanal, the monster, had eaten Lulumak for his sin.

From Guest Contributor Dave Harper

Dave, a recovering software developer, now finds himself addicted to writing fiction.

27
Apr

The Sea At Night

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Dana wasn’t allowed to walk the beach alone, even in broad daylight. Her parents never gave a reason, but she’d heard them whispering about the men who lived in the sea.

Late at night, when her family was asleep, Dana would wade out into the surf. She’d dig up sand dollars and watch the moonlight refract through the water. She had never been hindered by fear of the unknown.

When the sea men came for her, Dana did not scream. Perhaps this was what she wanted all along. She would not miss her family. She would not miss the earth.

23
Nov

Small Mercies

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Her father had come out a year before he died. Her parents had been divorced more than a decade by then and the news probably shouldn’t have comes as such a shock. At the eulogy, she lamented not handling his announcement with more compassion. She would never be able to understand what it had been like for him, growing up in small town Indiana.

She left the election viewing party early. She needed to cry alone. It was the first time she was glad Dad had died. He was spared having to see the wheels of progress start rolling backwards.

24
Oct

Once They Cross The Brambly Bridge Far Too Far From Town

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The man in the black coat turns around, long ears dangling, striped vest pink-and-white, smiling. The children have followed him into the woods against their parents’ warnings, but just for a minute, not very far they say, as he pulls the golden ivory box from inside his pocket’s silk lining, lifts the top and their eyes grow wide for they are each inside, two inches tall, ceramic dolls he’s carved on a carousel winding round-and-round the emerald mound on tiny white ponies they’re riding, cymbals in their hair, penny whistles singing, ‘til they no longer hear the dinner bells ringing.

From Guest Contributor Kathy Miller

Kathy is a writer of poems, stories, songs, and screenplays. She lives in Michigan and has a B.F.A and an M.F.A. in Writing. Her publications include HarperCollins’ It Books, Universal Music Publishing Group, and The Aviator.

3
Oct

Priorities

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Lillith’s earliest memory is of her nail poking at her father’s love handle. As if her finger was able to inject happiness, and heal the month-to-month worries that emerged as dollar signs in his eyes, just around his pupils.

In high school, Lillith filled out a career questionnaire while watching her mother dust her two-thousand-square-foot ball and chain. What did she want to be? She simply wrote: free.

On her thirtieth birthday, Lillith’s parents pulled up to her one-hundred-and-forty-four-square-foot tiny home. As Lillith washed the sand off her feet, her mother whispered to her father, “When’s she gonna grow up?”

From Guest Contributor Susan Shiney

Susan is a writer, painter, and teacher originally from Southern California. She is now living in Lille, France.

26
Sep

Old Mrs. Meyer

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Johan returns with the potatoes for lunch. Mrs. Meyer, who lives opposite, opens her door. Though he’s eleven, the kind old lady still gives him candy.

However, seeing the two Gestapo officers with her, Johan hides.

“My father was German,” she says.

“The Reich is grateful,” they reply.

Soldiers arrive. Knocking down their front door, they drag out his parents and the family in the attic.

“Jew-loving Dutch swine!” says a soldier, spitting at his father.

Johan never sees them again.

His eyes meet Mrs. Meyer’s, peering out from between her curtains.

He never forgets her look of triumphant malice.

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 Schlock! Webzine, 1947 A Literary Journal, Dead Snakes, Short-story.me, Anotherealm, Under the Bed, A Story In 100 Words, Poems and Poetry, Friday Flash Fiction, and in various anthologies.

1
Dec

Santa Ritual

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

I’m ten, too old to sit on Santa’s lap. Tell my parents. Please, someone?

Last year I was a brat, on purpose. Cracked inappropriate jokes, tugged his beard, farted on his pants. Hoping my message would come across.

Yet, here we go again. When asked what I want for Christmas, I belted out my thoughts.

Santa was speechless. Mom and Dad stared. Parents with kids waiting to meet Santa looked like icicles.

Then, I remembered Scrooge. “Sorry Santa,” I said, not letting him see my tears.

“You’re forgiven, son,” he replied. “The greatest gift is love. You already have that.”

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. Her work has been published at: Nailpolish Stories, 50-Word Stories, 100 word story, 101 Words, Boston Literary Magazine, From the Depths (Haunted Waters Press), ShortbreadStories, SixWordMemoirs, and Espresso Stories.

27
Oct

Pumpkin Face

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Pumpkins. Melissa hated them. She also hated Halloween.

A classmate called her Pumpkin Face. She knew why. Her face being round, like a pumpkin.

She pretended it didn’t matter but it did. Deeply. She stayed long hours in her bedroom and cried.

Then, something unusual happened. The doorbell rang on Halloween Eve. The name-caller and his parents stood at the front door. Melissa was summoned. She obliged.

The boy apologized for being mean. He handed a decorated bag of candy and wished Melissa a happy Halloween.

The young girl told her parents she could hardly wait to go out Trick-or-Treating.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. Her work has been published at: Nailpolish Stories, 50-Word Stories, 100 word story, 101 Words, Boston Literary Magazine, From the Depths (Haunted Waters Press), ShortbreadStories, SixWordMemoirs, and Espresso Stories.

14
Jul

They Worked Together, In New York

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

“Most people are Virgos – know why?” I do. Nine months before September is commonly cold; nowhere to go but bed. The I.T. guy thinks he’s flirting but now I’m just picturing my parents.

We are so many, they economize. One cake only – sheet, naturally – with plastic balloons and red and blue frosting. Children’s cake. We begin to reveal our birth dates around the break room, and I fade away.

Later, the liquor store clerk pity-frowns at my I.D. “Man,” he says, “bet your birthday sucks.” I got nothing to add, except at least I’m around to celebrate it.


From Guest Contributor Vera Duffy

Vera is a semi-retired Mexican wrestler living in Los Angeles. Her work has appeared in Puppet Terror magazine and the L.A. Alternative Press.

9
Jul

Family Under Scrutiny

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Spectators looked on with intense intrigue as the judge examined articles placed before her.

“Mister Coroner,” she began. “Did you succeed in contacting the victim’s next of kin?”

The questioned man glanced nervously about him. “No, Your Honor. Records show her parents are deceased. A younger sister ran away from home six years ago. Hasn’t been seen since.”

“Have you tried her extended family?”

“I’m not aware of any members.”

I sat fidgeting in the back of the courtroom.

“Excuse me,” I said rising. “I knew the young victim.”

“Who are you?” the startled judge asked.

“I was her sister.”

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. Her work has been published at: Nailpolish Stories, 50-Word Stories, 100 word story, 101 Words, Boston Literary Magazine, From the Depths (Haunted Waters Press), ShortbreadStories, and espresso stories.