Posts Tagged ‘Phone’
Dec
The Rotary Phone
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The butter-yellow rotary phone was sitting on the carpet in the living room of the empty apartment. It’s cord and wires were disconnected and curled around its body.
David walked into the room. His eyes began to water as grief overcame him. He had not made it home for his grandmother’s funeral. He was not there for the disposition of the contents of her home, the home that was his refuge growing up. Now it was too late to say goodbye.
“I love you, gramma,” he whispered.
David bent over, picked up the phone, and quietly walked out the door.
From Guest Contributor Janice Siderius
Jun
Who Cared?
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Robots Contest Entry:
He tinkered for a year, ignoring his phone and only leaving the house for Wacko Wake or the hardware store. The rest was delivered.
The garage was littered with tools and metal shards. The WiFi flicked on for two hours each night so he could comb websites.
His friends had given up on him. Who cared? He was done. Done with living like an open wound, a scrap of plastic blown in someone else’s breeze.
Finally, it was time. He flipped the switch and felt an electric jolt. The eyes lit up. The battery hummed.
Then it spoke. “Yes, master?”
From Guest Contributor Faye Rapoport DesPres
Mar
Soothing Sounds
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
As soon as I entered the apartment, I felt the heavy air of disappointment. Lauren hadn’t made the all-star team. She’d been practicing her foul shots and layups for months. She was curled into the recliner with a blanket tucked under her chin. I knew better than to speak to her.
On my way into the kitchen, it struck me that my father had discovered texting and Face Time on his cell phone. I shot him a text, turned the speaker on, and my father’s warmth came through my phone.
“Pop Pop” Lauren squealed, jumping and tossing the blanket aside.
From Guest Contributor Edith Gallagher Boyd
Feb
Vegan Vigilantes
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The joint was cased. All that remained was the decision: this coffeehouse or the Dunkin’ Donuts on the bypass?
Roland sauntered inside and scanned the menu–coffee and sandwiches–on the back wall.
“Can I help you?”
“Anything vegan?”
Bewildered: “Uh, vegan? Er…”
An older barista, working a blender: “Nothing vegan.”
Roland stepped back, leaned against the wall, phone to ear: “Mook, it’s the shop on Main. Even worse than Dunkin’. Pick me up in two minutes.”
He replaced the phone with a gun and approached the counter.
“Since your menu isn’t cruelty-free, I’ll take your money. Open the register.”
From Guest Contributor Joe Surkiewicz
Joe writes from northern Vermont.
Sep
Mammoth
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
An airplane soars into the mammoth building, leaving a gaping hole. Blackness, dust, and papers fill the air.
Angels fall and my heart beats quickly not knowing what to do. I pace the floor with the others, stunned, quiet, unable not to watch. The sirens pierce our ears, and we stare at one another.
The phones ring with panicking family members crying that a second plane has crashed into the other building. I drop the phone when the fire drill alarms. The sky darkens and we head to the staircase not knowing our fate.
The World Trade Center is no more.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Jan
‘Tis My Life
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
A knock at the door jolts me off the sofa. I peek through the blinds then rush to the bedroom to throw on my favorite dress, hoping he’ll wait.
“I’m coming!”
I brush my hair and give myself a once-over in front of the mirror as I don my mask, careful to not snag my earrings. My phone dings. A text from him.
I dash to the door, but it’s too late. As he drives away, I feel sadness overtake me for a minute. Then I remember his purpose. Smiling, I look to the ground. My Amazon order has arrived.
From Guest Contributor Jennifer Lai
Sep
Hawaiian Music
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Before the visit to Florida, Jesse told him Elan was Hawaiian instead of black. You would think it shouldn’t matter but that would mean you didn’t know his father. During Katrina, people trying to survive, he couldn’t shut up on the phone of “the animals down there.” His take on Obama was that he was an “affirmative-action baby.”
They hadn’t been in the house fifteen minutes. His father had always loved music, especially classical, so he dropped that in, that Elan played the violin, string quartet.
His father handed Elan his old portable radio.
“Play something for me,” he said.
From Guest Contributor Jon Fain
May
Waiting Game
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“I hate this waiting,” grumbled Rob.
In childhood years he waited countless hours for his mother’s homemade cookies. He sprung leaks in pj’s waiting for a sister to leave their one and only bathroom. College dates made him wait outside their apartments. He didn’t know why but when they emerged they looked gorgeous.
Now this. Physical distancing to get necessities. Because of a virus.
Rob’s phone rang.
“I’m still waiting in a lineup for the pharmacy,” said his wife. “At least a dozen shoppers before me.”
Rob stepped inside the grocery store smiling, relegating another ‘wait’ time to the past.
From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs
Krystyna is a writer of poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. She resides in Edmonton, Canada with her husband, stuffed animals and many friends.
Feb
Dead Dreams
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
If it wasn’t for lack of encouragement growing up, I might have been an avant-garde artist, a Duchamp or a Warhol, famous for a star-like crack in a windshield, stick figures drawn on toilet paper, floors overflowing with blood. I carry a lot of photos in my phone. The only words anyone ever truly needs have all been cannibalized for parts. Still, when I announce, “I’m going to kill myself,” I don’t care what the police say, you better take it seriously. Saucer-eyed girls have been walking for a while now very close to a volcano with a beautiful name.
From Guest Contributor Howie Good
Howie is the author most recently of Stick Figure Opera: 99 100-word Prose Poems from Cajun Mutt Press. He co-edits the online journals Unbroken and UnLost.
Dec
Christmas Morning
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Ben watches the kids open their presents. Sharon’s smile is frozen in place. His too. It’s like a hard layer of snow has settled over everyone, precluding self reflection.
He remembers the frenetic joy that would build as his presents got bigger, even as they became fewer. After the last one, a shameful disappointment set in, a feeling he refused to acknowledge even to himself.
His phone buzzes in his pocket. He slinks to the bathroom to read the texts in solitude. Sharon already suspects.
He uses the holidays as an excuse not to say anything. Let’s wait until January.