Posts Tagged ‘Sky’
Nov
Morning Run
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Keep your footing steady, prepared for the slick, the slide, your
flight, your footlessness, your unexpected sky view. Run towards the
hazy white clouds, the early sun’s pinkish fire, the black ice–a
lake, a mottled mirror. You know the quiet sidewalk, the barren apple
tree, the forgotten field. But this sea yearning, this siren call to
dive deep, feet first, into the glass, the shatter–is undeniable, an
immersion, a full body baptism. You suddenly find yourself splayed and
shaken, flat on your back, laughing at your air walk, your feet now
hesitant, dull–the morning light cool, the day transparent,
expectant.
From Guest Contributor Holiday Goldfarb
Sep
My Constant Inconstant
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
It is hard to swallow that the sun always beams on someone, when she ignores shining on me. The sun parks behind the clouds on sullen January mornings, knowing, full well, the snow would be whiter and the air, warmer, if it was ambitious enough to burn through molten lead skies.
Wallowing in darkness, with only a feeble moon, I am not the least bit rapturous to know the sun blazes in Australia. Cosmic, coquettish peek-a-boos of partly cloudy days throw me into a dark mood but, in my codependency, I am happy that my constant inconstant keeps coming around.
From Guest Contributor Tim Philippart
Jul
Contrast
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
A painting pulled me from across the room. Past spectators scrutinizing other exhibits. Past a man commenting on contemporary art.
I wanted to meet the artist and ask what had inspired him.
Hut alone in a field. The dark evening sky contrasted with flaxen wheat. No people or animals.
“Do you like it,” a man asked me.
“Too depressing,” I answered. “Looks familiar.”
“It’s the toolshed on my parents’ farm. As a boy, I took shelter there during a sudden storm.”
“So, you’re the artist,” I exclaimed eyeing him.
I left the gallery realizing we were once classmates at school.
From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs
Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. Her work has been published at: Nailpolish Stories, 50-Word Stories, 100 word story, 101 Words, Boston Literary Magazine, From the Depths (Haunted Waters Press), ShortbreadStories, SixWordMemoirs, and Espresso Stories.
Jun
Wishes
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I saw a comet yesterday. It came as though from nowhere, soaring across the deep blue expanse of sky inset with bright stars. Watching it, I felt youthful again, glowing with vibrant dreams and astronomical aspirations—reborn like a phoenix from the ashes of adulthood.
In a moment of euphoria, I closed my eyes and wished for the love of my life. The fiery tail ripped through the night, searching for my soulmate. When I opened my eyes, my wife was standing before me.
Then I remembered—comets are hard, icy rocks, and they suck the life from the sun.
From Guest Contributor Taylor Shepeard
Jun
The Lake Of Shadow
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The traveler had spent his entire day trekking through the woods until he came upon a lake. As blue as the sky this lake was; he could see his reflection as if it was a genuine copy of himself looking into his own eyes.
He decided that he would take a swim in this beautiful lake that seemed to hold mysterious shadows in the depths below the translucent blue glow. It was a refreshing feeling as he entered the lake. But after only minutes, did the mystical glow engulf his consciousness, and his body sank into the shadowy depths below.
From Guest Contributor Gabe Mancino
May
Perception
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The night sky was the underside of a felt baldachino; the tower an ornate column; and the church main an altar for some expected giant: bold and bright against the diffuse starlight.
She wasn’t sure about the floodlights now.
“You going in or what?” Frieda tended towards the curt. “I’m happy either way.”
“Um–”
“Night wedding because he looks better in the dark?”
“Mum!”
“That laneway he knocked you up in must have been pitch.”
“MUM!”
“Twice your bloody age.”
The eighteen-year-old eased out of the limo’s back seat, wondering if the weight she felt was really just the baby.
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
Apr
Ride
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Only a motorcyclist knows why a dog sticks his head out a car window, he thought. A perfect day for a road trip. 79 degrees, cloudless blue sky, divorce finalized, and the new girlfriend’s boobs felt terrific against his back. The speedometer needle inched past 105mph. Miles of Nevada Highway 50 stretched into the horizon.
The auditory bliss of an unmuffled V-Twin’s howl was joined, and subsequently replaced, by a symphony of mechanical annihilation. 1200 feet and sixty-five seconds later, a cloud of pink mist, feathers, chrome, plastic, aluminum, steel, and leather came to rest.
The desert’s natural silence prevailed.
From Guest Contributor Edward Yoho
Edward recently earned an MFA in Writing from Lindenwood University. According to his spirit guide/favorite professor, the title of his thesis, Science Fiction, Sarcasm, and Other Profane Oddities, accurately reflects his writing aesthetic. Edward’s previous publication credits include an essay and a fiction story in Potluck Magazine.
Jan
A Viking Burial
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“Who does this anymore?” Joshua asked. “A viking burial — is it even legal?”
I looked out at the lake, its opposite shoreline no longer visible under the moonless night sky. The family lake house was well secluded, shrouded in forest nearly twenty miles thick.
“It’s what he would have wanted,” I answered, glancing down at the lifeless figure in the wooden canoe, hands gracefully folded, with a wreath of crumpled newspaper haloing his head.
With a heavy sigh, Joshua waded the canoe out to water as I lit several matches. He smirked.
“Feels like cheating, without the bow and arrow.”
From Guest Contributor Amanda S.
Oct
Infinite Summer
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
God had bleached everything. The shattering sky. Erin’s face. Even our baby’s perfect hands were white.
Tiny, frozen fingers assail the windshield while Erin shivers in the passenger seat. I ease the gas pedal cautiously, hesitantly–-coaxing a reluctant lover.
Tires slip and I wonder if it would be so bad, sliding to our end in ice and pavement. Why not, with the cold body of our almost baby left at the hospital?
Erin clutches her abdomen, lingering reflex, and whispers the name I refuse to remember. The name we picked when the world was warmer and life infinite summer.
From Guest Contributor Sierra Donahue