Posts Tagged ‘Scream’
Jun
First Mate
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The scream of the seagull broke the silence on the dock. His old dog looked at him and gave a soft whine. It was her fourteenth season and he wondered if it would be her last. Her coat had lightened over the years and little wasn’t gray on her muzzle. He rubbed her head as they walked to his boat.
She struggled to climb over the starboard side of the boat, so he lifted her in. She made it by herself every time last year.
The traditional start of main lobstering season was underway. It might be her last season.
From Guest Contributor NT Franklin
Nov
Mary Of Silence
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
From where she stood, she watched the blood soak into the hard, compacted earth. It was like watching water that has spilled from a glass onto the countertop evaporate in fast motion. Soon it would be as if the dark fluid had never been there, absorbed into this wasteland where it could serve no purpose.
Mary wanted to scream. But her voice had fled long ago. With no one willing to listen futility had eventually won out. The doctors called it aphasia.
So Mary watched her husband die. Here, freedom surely was a bitterness. Alone, she started walking towards sunset.
Jul
The Chariot
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Pale reaching hands slipped below powdered ash and blood-soaked mud, pressing tighter to the earth, seeking salvation in the grave-like ditch. War thundered overhead as gunpowder sparked and chorused above. The soldier turned his silver eyes over the mud—to the cemetery of barbed wire and bruised corpses.
A high-pitched scream wailed distantly from two warring steeds tethered together. He watched the blood-stained Roan shriek and kick as it fell into the sea of barbed wire; the moon-kissed Arabian jolted from the tearing spikes, her gas mask hanging from bloodied leather, not knowing whether to die quietly or while struggling.
From Guest Contributor Mikayla E. Gruber
Mikayla is currently writing a fantasy/sci-fi novel and studying English and German at Pikes Peak Comunity College. She is also working towards a CPDT-KA Certification.
Aug
The Bottle Spins
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“Screw you!” I scream through bloody cracked lips.
He turns his head and looks at me curled up on the cold granite floor. He smiles. Ash from his cigarette drops onto his cheap suit. He carefully brushes it off, not once taking his eyes off me.
On the floor by his feet is an empty wine bottle lying on its side. Slowly, he bends down and spins it once more.
We all watch its slow revolution, desperately praying it won’t point in our direction.
God is not with me today. My silent prayer goes unanswered.
It was my turn again.
From Guest Contributor Mike Jackson
Mike lives in the UK and enjoys writing short tales, especially Drabbles. Many of his offerings can be found on his blog ‘Stories In Your Pocket.’
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.
Nov
Confession
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Jimmy is nervous. His relationship with Susan has developed into something serious. Susan notices Jimmy is shaking.
“What the matter, Jimmy?” Susan asks. Jimmy knows he should tell her the truth sooner or later. It might as well be now. “There’s something about me you don’t know I have to tell you,” said Jimmy.
“What’s that?” Susan inquires.
“I’m a shapeshifter,” states Jimmy.
Susan, who’s in shock, asks Jimmy, “What do you really look like?” Jimmy changes into to his true form. Susan screams. After she calms down she ask him, “What are you awful creatures called?”
“Humans,” replies Jimmy.
From Guest Contributor Denny E. Marshall
Feb
Milk
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
In the beginning, I cried for it. Yet each night after dark, I threw up that sour formula, that fake milk warmed in glass bottles my mother tested on her wrists, so I wouldn’t burn my mouth.
Still, my mouth burned. I was a difficult baby, thin and colicky. I hungered but could not accept nourishment.
That’s how I began: Born at just five pounds, brought home in a receiving blanket, placed in a crib where I protested and screamed, the vein in my neck throbbing.
Years later, I’m still protesting, still screaming.
It scares me to close my mouth.
From Guest Contributor Cinthia Ritchie
Cinthia is a two-time Pushcart Prize nominee who writes and runs mountains in Anchorage, Alaska. Find her work at Water-Stone Review, Evening Street Press, Third Wednesday, Best American Sports Writing 2013, Sports Literate, The Boiler Journal, Cactus Heart Press, Mary: A Journal of New Writing, damselfly press, Memoir, Sugar Mule, Foliate Oak Literary Journal and other small presses. Her first novel, Dolls Behaving Badly, released from Hachette Press/Grand Central Publishing
Jan
A Centuplicate Of Cosmic Horror
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The audience sat, rapt, as the medium paced the stage before them, one finely-manicured hand cupped to his ear. “I’m picking up a name.” The crowd ooo-ed. “Does anyone here know a…sorry, can’t quite catch it.” He frowned in concentration. “Kuh- two…?” An impressed murmur swept the auditorium. “Too…too…Lou?” He scrunched his eyes up. A dimness began to beset the cheaper seats in the balcony. “Kuh-too-lou. Does anyone here, ladies and gents, have a loved one of that name who-” A rushing wind drowned his last words. The lights went out. Someone, or some thing, screamed.
From Guest Contributor Matt Thompson
Apr
Fear
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I always said I was scared of nothing. I wasn’t afraid of the dark, or death, or even lizards, mice and cockroaches. I didn’t disbelieve in ghosts, but they’d done nothing to make me believe. Nor was I frightened of Judgement Day, because I am a conscientious person. Until the moment I heard the sound of footsteps approaching my room, I was truly scared of nothing. But when his shadow crept into the bedroom and his sinewy hands stifled my scream before tearing off every scrap of modesty on my being from that moment on, I became scared of everything.
From Guest Contributor Namitha Varma
Namitha Varma is a media professional based in Mangaluru, India. She has publishing credits in over 15 literary journals including Sahitya Akademi’s journal Indian Literature, eFiction India, Hackwriters, MadSwirl, FIVE Poetry, Microfiction Monday Magazine, and Postcard Shorts. Her micropoem has been read out on NPR Radio as part of the National Poetry Month 2014, and a poem of hers features in the Authorspress anthology ‘Resonating Strings.’ She blogs on narcissistwrites.blogspot.com and tweets via @namithavr.
Feb
Voodoo Graffiti
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The night the lake turned purple, I was on the phone for three hours, fighting with my brother. He was dissing Grandpa’s old white Ambassador which I’d inherited. Afterwards, I switched off my phone and shut myself up in my room. That’s how I missed our town’s first miracle.
Three days, one strangled rooster, a lungful of incense and a migraine later, I had succeeded in turning his BMW bright yellow. His scream of fury echoed across town. I sniggered and came out for coffee.
By then, the whole world had turned purple. Including Grandpa’s car.
Still, better than yellow.
From Guest Contributor Aparna Nandakumar
Aparna lives in Calicut, India, and writes poems and short stories. Her work is forthcoming in The Atticus Review and Cafe Dissensus.