Posts Tagged ‘Perry McDaid’



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.


He reflected on the nature of sirens.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid


Scrabbling For Vanity

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Most had outside toilets, located in narrow backyards just far enough away from kitchen doors for odours to dissipate.

Granddad’s was a stark brick shell with a plank-door, cord for inner handle, neatly torn newspaper for wiping, and Adamant throne a chasm to toddlers.

The landlord was actually well-to-do and had provided an Edwardian commode, but this was purely for night-time excursions by the ladies of the house.

The home of the paternal grandmother faced the cathedral; the toilet inside. She boasted poshness.

The facility was internal only because her house had no yard. She forever nagged about flushing properly.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid



by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

He introduced himself to the elegant redhead, making the proper, respectful eye-contact interspersed with cheekily brazen glances beyond the pendulous necklace of green stones.

He listened to her queries, gave all the right answers, asking questions on cue, seizing each opportunity for sexual inference.

Waiting for her fiancé, she allowed herself to bask in the attention and enjoy the ancient game. She even allowed her secret smile to beam forth occasionally, assuring herself that her fidelity was as icily resolute as the emeralds about her flushed neck.

Shortly after an artful hand touched her thigh, only the emeralds kept table.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid



by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Duncan had considered trying out an infinity mirror experiment, but taking even a box camera into a photo booth had always seemed so…uncouth.

He’d shelved the whole idea down into a little dark corner of his timidity.

Only the recent spate of high risk narcissistic selfies had managed to prise open that dungeon of shyness and resuscitate the notion.

Smartphone ideal for purpose – persuading himself that he was so much more cerebral than sneering losers – he climbed into the photo booth and popped a coin into the slot.

He timed everything perfectly and vanished up the orifice of physics.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid


Emigration 2.0

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The latest Derry crowd had established quite a community inside Grianan Fort, refugees from a Northern Ireland under British administration, ostensibly governed by a partnership of Republican and Unionist parties.

Tory privatisation of social housing, using the ubiquitous Brexit scapegoat, had only been introduced three years before a combination of it and repeal of benefits had forced Jimmy’s family, and thousands like them, across the border.

He pitied those who hadn’t escaped the shutdown.
“Lights out!” Someone called from the ramparts.

Pointless warning. One way in and out. Guards knew the drill.

Jimmy reckoned they’d have a week’s grace.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid



by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

“Not healthy,” Jan whispered to her surviving brother, peering into the darkened parlour where her mother sat, eyes fixed on the flickering screen of Brian’s cracked Smartphone.

Tom lifted and dropped his shoulders helplessly and returned to the closed-coffin wake in the other room.

Jan herself had only been able to watch the footage once: the glee of Brian hanging from a spar changing to terror as his grip had slipped.

The phone had been lucky enough to fall back onto the bridge.

Jan stared as her mother hit replay again. She’d even stopped sobbing.

“Friggin’ selfie generation,” she muttered.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid


Red Tape Mania

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

James scooped mail, spinning the wheelchair precipitously for the turn, a big grin on his face. Wheels clattered on tiles as he righted.

“I would have got those. Those stunts–”

Envelopes in lap, the veteran mock-pouted. “Self-entertainment. Can’t just wait to die, honey. Adapt and move on. I was thinking of entering the Paralympics.”

Tanya sighed noisily. The smile she sought to force died at the sight of his expression. His hand still gripped an open letter and envelope.


“Remember the Disability Benefit reappraisal?”


“Seems they reckon loss of limbs and Kidney Impact Syndrome don’t–”




From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid


Hope And The Sword

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Face down in pine-needles, Tom could hear rustling undergrowth.

It wasn’t such disturbance of leaf and stalk that might herald the man’s return, but more woodlandy – some creature curious about the blood…his blood.

Gauging the effort required, he summoned what energy remained and thrust.

His right arm collapsed, the incline rolling him onto his back.

The unobstructed air was invigorating. He’d never appreciated that before. He coughed half way through a breath, spluttering blood.

He managed to avoid choking. He might just survive–

Now he could see the man hadn’t left at all.

The shooter raised the gun again.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid


Duty And Thoughts Of Alisen

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

A sweep of peach graced the western sky…maybe. Sleep deprived, he couldn’t really be sure. Vision might be compromised, eyes too bloodshot to discern the ambiguous purity of grey dragging the downpour along the horizon.

And the windows were filthy.

Sunday eyed him from the corner, placid gaze sharpening as her head rose from his Nike, quasi-spaghetti dangling from open maw.

He identified with the drool-laden laces.

“Curious passion,” he said, observing the dog…but thinking of Alisen.

Sunday growled, mouthing the trainer, front paws tensed and backside hoisted by her wagging tail. Play and a walk.

Duty called.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid


Future Perfect

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

It had taken some time to bring the fixer-upper to a standard he could happily call home.

He was in the company of all who cursed the pope amid the loyalist festivities.

He dusted and buffed his bowler unto that classy matt gleam. His sash shone with the pride of centuries.

“Why not be ‘triumphalist’?”

There was no response. None needed.

He wore long johns and fleece under the treasured regalia.

“A dry day,” he affirmed.

He practiced a few tunes on his fife and strode purposefully from his front door.

Alone he trod the permafrost-patterned ground of Devon Island.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid