Posts Tagged ‘Sister’
Feb
Ice Pond
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
When I stepped outside onto the cold snow-covered sidewalk, I remembered my childhood in Maine.
“Hurry, Artie!” My sister, Clara, bellowed from across the ice pond.
My friend Eric couldn’t keep up, and I quickly sped past him, my hands raised in victory. Eric sighed and skated away, having had enough.
Clara clapped and then glided toward me. Suddenly there was a crackling sound and a scream. Clara fell through the ice, hands flailing, eyes fearful. I tried to get to her, but people pulled me back and said I’d fall too. Then there was silence.
I never skated again.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Dec
Relativists
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
A twin, jealous of her sister’s looks, sends her into outer space.
-The joke’s on you, says their mother. She will return younger than you. And, she’ll look even better.
Doesn’t she know time is an illusion? Then again, she believes the sun rises and sets.
-She knows an illusion when she sees it, says the mother. She’s always been the smart one.
The mother glances down at her watch. It runs more slowly when in motion, treating time like taffy: the greater the pull, the more it stretches.
-Gravity, she seethes.
You always liked her better, says the twin.
From Guest Contributor Cheryl Snell
Cheryl’s recent fiction has appeared in Switch, Does It Have Pockets? Gone Lawn, Necessary Fiction, Pure Slush, and elsewhere.
Nov
The Moment In My Pocket
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Even in your tight orbit of busy and work and home there are moments whose skin slips, crumbles like the dry shell of a red onion, and a person is laid bare in your hands. It stains your fingers, stings your eyes: your sister, a stranger. A student, mother of four, six-month chip in her pocket, stepping off the cliff edge of giving up
but you catch her hand just in time
and you hold the sphere of this moment,
paint it, polish it, and keep it safe
in your pocket
to show to someone
who might give up tomorrow.
From Guest Contributor Brook Bhagat
Brook’s poetry, fiction, non-fiction, and humor have appeared in Monkeybicycle, Empty Mirror Magazine, Rat’s Ass Review, and other journals and anthologies. She is a founding editor of Blue Planet Journal. She is the 2020 winner of A Story in 100 Words’ nature writing contest, and the 2021 winner of Loud Coffee Press’s microfiction contest. She is an assistant professor of English at Pikes Peak Community College and is writing a novel. Her poetry collection, Only Flying, is due out Nov. 16, 2021 from Unsolicited Press. See the book trailer, read her work, and find out about in-person and virtual book launch events at https://brook-bhagat.com/.
Jun
Legal
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
January 18, Jack told his wife Jan that she had gained a few pounds. Why couldn’t she be skinny like her younger sister Jean? February 10, he stayed out until after 2AM, came home drunk and drove the car into the garage. March 3, Jan found her sister in bed with Jack. The jury of twelve women ruled Jack’s death justifiable homicide on December 2. Five days later Jan married her brilliant lawyer, Frank Webster. When asked what he was doing, Frank said “Sure she’s a murderer, but look at that body. Anyway, now I know what not to do.”
From Guest Contributor Doug Hawley
The little old man has published four hundred or so things in the UK, USA, Canada, Iran, Germany, Australia, the Netherlands, India, and Spain without ever exhibiting any skill or ability. https://sites.google.com/site/aberrantword/
May
Abedabun
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Abedabun weaves baskets while her father makes arrowheads. The sun is warm against her face and she tires of the mundane ritual but does not complain when her father rubs a droplet of sweat from her cheek with affection.
Her mother is by the river collecting herbs, humming in tune with the birds, while her brother and sister collect insects for amusement.
Hiawatha, the finest young man in the tribe, approaches Abedabun and her father with a token of marriage, a deer slung over his broad shoulders.
She stops her work and looks to her father.
Hiawatha’s token is accepted.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Jun
The Homes Of Birds (Nature Contest Winner)
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I’m very excited to present the winner of our Nature Flash Fiction Contest, from regular contributor Brook Bhagat. Someone might look at the strange format and say it’s more of a poem than a short story, but my favorite poems are the ones that tell a story as well. Plus I liked it so this is the one I’m choosing. Congratulations Brook! And thanks to everyone who participated. A lot of great stories.
I understand the funeral I have the address the dress the time
it begins with smiling cameras and ends with paper tablecloths, cold cuts and deviled eggs downstairs
even worse is the sunshine, all those empty minutes left
I would have lost it
if not
For the hike, still in our black together,
you and Ben, the boy,
me and my sister arm in arm
down the easy path at
Garden of the Gods,
lighter than before, noticing the homes
of birds in the rocks and remembering
we are just a moment, fragments
of a mystery that flies and sings.
From Guest Contributor Brook Bhagat
Brook’s poetry, fiction, non-fiction, and humor have appeared in Monkeybicycle, Empty Mirror Magazine, Harbinger Asylum, Little India, Rat’s Ass Review, Lotus-Eater Magazine, Anthem: A Tribute to Leonard Cohen, and other journals and anthologies. She and her husband Gaurav created Blue Planet Journal, which she edits and writes for. She holds an MFA from Lindenwood University, teaches creative writing at a community college, and is writing a novel. Her poetry collection, Only Flying, is due out Nov. 16, 2021 from Unsolicited Press. See more at brook-bhagat.com or reach her on Twitter at @BrookBhagat.
Stay tuned for an announcement soon about our next contest!
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.
Apr
Burning Uncertainty
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
HISTORICAL FICTION ENTRY:
My elder sister Tanya and I burn portraits of Nicholas, watching his solemn eyes melting. Melting, melting. Flames envelop his beard, rising into the night sky.
“To the Revolution,” she proclaims. “We’ll be happy again.”
“To happiness,” I proclaim. I hug Tanya. She smells of sweat and oil and victory.
I wonder what will come next. We’ve lost homes and positions, slaved in Siberia. She was a teacher and I, a writer. Those positions are in the past, though.
Will we be of use? Or will the Revolution brand us too bourgeois?
I wish the picture wouldn’t burn so fast.
From Guest Contributor Yash Seyedbagheri
Yash is a graduate of Colorado State University’s MFA program in fiction. Yash’s work is forthcoming or has been published in WestWard Quarterly, Café Lit, 50 Word Stories, (mac)ro (mic), and Ariel Chart.
Jan
21
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
My sister’s 21 years older. She’s 37. Often jokes I’m the milkman’s son.
Nancy calls me Saint Nick, says I’m too giving. Nicknames me dummkopf when I trip.
I love her energy, when she jokes about my clothing or love of Debussy. She’s an Elvis-loving newspaperwoman.
Yet, the banter lacks that natural rhythm, that give-and-take. We didn’t grow up playing or fighting together. But Nancy says age is arbitrary.
I wonder if she feels self-consciousness. Especially when she calls me little brother, accentuating the words.
I just banter. Call her sis. Joke that she’s my secret mother.
It’s almost believable.
From Guest Contributor Yash Seyedbagheri
Yash is a graduate of Colorado State University’s MFA program in fiction. His work is forthcoming or has been published in journals such as 50 Word Stories, Silent Auctions, City. River. Tree. and Ariel Chart.
Dec
Giving Thanks
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
With Thanksgiving approaching, Ellie wanted to do something special. She dreaded listening to her sister complain about cooking Thanksgiving dinner when there were people that would give anything to have a meal and a family.
Ellie’s small fingers typed on the computer keyboard searching for anything she could do to help those in destitution and found it. Her eyes locked on a three-year-old girl from Africa who needed a sponsor. She had the brownest eyes and deepest dimples. Despite her cuteness, she appeared frail and that’s when Ellie came to a decision.
A little girl was very happy that year.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher