Posts Tagged ‘Plot’
Apr
The Death And Life Of The Avant-Garde
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
When Franz K. was taken off the train in the middle of the night, he came to on a street of futuristic glass towers that, from an architectural perspective, were already passé. “What are those buildings?” he asked his keeper, a tall, thin, priestly figure who emanated an aura of gentle authority. “You’ll find out,” the keeper said, smiling. He never did. By the time the sun rose, he was tied to a post, watching in terror the firing squad assemble. It was sort of like avant-garde cinema where a series of incidents doesn’t necessarily add up to a plot.
From Guest Contributor Howie Good
Howie Good is the author of more than a dozen poetry collections, including most recently Gunmetal Sky (Thirty West Publishing) and The Bad News First (Kung Fu Treachery Press).
Feb
New Start
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
A new year, a new start and I’m ready to begin my novel.
“Okay, I need a protagonist and an intriguing plot. I can definitely do this.”
I turn the computer on, fill the printer with paper and sit my butt down. Then I stretch my arms, put my fingers on the keyboard and stare at the blank screen.
“Okay, what’s my character’s name? Charlie Strong. Now, I need a plot.”
After typing, Charlie Strong sat at the table sipping coffee, I froze.
“Well, so much for my new start.”
I get up and make a fresh pot of coffee.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Jun
Neglect
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Lichen and moss had made their home on the intricately carved headstone while a ravenous community of ivy sought to embrace it.
The man wondered who Charlotte was. All the superficial dedications were there, though the surname was hidden. Who had she been? Was there no family to visit and maintain the plot…or did they believe in allowing it to age as naturally as their progenitor?
He crouched and pulled back some of the thicker growth from the bottom.
“…leaving behind…”
He read the names. One was unusual, like Gran’s.
He brushed ivy aside.
The surname was his own.
From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid
Apr
After Midnight
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
After midnight, we climb the cemetery fence.
The sky is black as ink, but Gordy’s brought a flashlight. He’s been out of juvie for two days now.
I follow him to the far corner of the plot, wind brushing my clothes like ghosts.
“This is it,” he says.
His dad’s name is on the headstone along with this year’s date, him having died while Gordy was locked up.
I’ve seen the stripes on Gordy’s back, his broken nose, of course, but when Gordy takes out a sledge hammer, winding up, I grab his arm, saying, “Do that and he wins.”
From Guest Contributor Len Kuntz
Len is a writer from Washington State, an editor at the online magazine Literary Orphans, and the author of I’M NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE AND NEITHER ARE YOU out now from Unknown Press. You can also find him at lenkuntz.blogspot.com