Posts Tagged ‘Smile’
Mar
Echoes And Reflections
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
It follows me everywhere, the inaudible predator. Fixated upon a daily routine, mocking every subtle maneuver that I made. The thing glissades in a deriding dance upon my every step. A replicant of form cast under the luminosity of ever radiant sun.
Signified in our sinister, daily reflections. An entity of faux similarity and duplication. In such replication a truer self and profound verity obtained. Co-conspiring and willingness etched upon that imitation smile. The backdrop of the unstained silhouette and persona versus my tainted hand. A cheering entourage as the blade is always in my hand painted with crimson delight.
From Guest Contributor Brett Dyer
Jan
The Final Procedure
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
She lays on the table like a forgotten doll, eyes closed. The final procedure is complete.
Let it work.
A moment of silence, then she opens her eyes. And smiles.
“Hi, Daddy!”
“I’m David.”
“But you’re…old.”
She searches her memory, then cries out.
“The car!”
“It can’t hurt you, Rachel.”
It hurt me. The drunk barreling down the road, right at her. And I, her big brother, her protector, too far away.
She wraps her arms around me.
“Don’t cry.”
I hug her to me.
“What is this place?” she asks.
“My laboratory. This is where I make cyborgs.”
From Guest Contributor Eric Petersen
Sep
Add One More Day
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Positive and quarantined at home, my days edge along like a snail. Immersed in social media and Netflix, suddenly, I gasp for oxygen. Panting for a breath, I’m rushed to the hospital. Tethered to oxygen, I yearn to hug and cradle my child. I have to bake her birthday cake. I want to see her victorious smile when I lose at UNO. I must leave a lingering kiss on my husband’s lips. Flustered by my thoughts, I inhale into darkness.
Cool air blows as the blanket is snatched off me. “Mom, the Zoom password is incorrect.” I breathe in relief.
From Guest Contributor Hetal Shah
Hetal graduated with her Bachelor of Commerce from SIES. She lives in Mumbai with her husband, son, and daughter. She rekindled her hobby of writing over the past year. She is the winner of Mumbai Poetry League 2020, and her poem was published in an anthology by Poets of Mumbai called Guldastaa A Bouquet of Poems. She also writes flash fiction, and has been published twice on 101words.org. She loves to read, and especially enjoys reading and writing stories of romance and everyday life. Besides writing, she enjoys cooking new cuisines, traveling, and singing.
Sep
Tremors
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
My clammy palms drip sweat and my icy feet shiver. I barely fit on this stiff, creaky bed. From the haunted murkiness, a shadow emerges and creeps around.
Drowning in the claustrophobic silence, I am trapped. No one hears my heart’s pounding rattle. As he looms from the dark, my throbbing stomach twinges and my wobbly legs quiver.
He lifts the thin sheet off of my legs and I clench my fists timorously. I tremble in trepidation as he plunges the invasive latex-covered wand into my body.
Moments later, he tenderly pulls it out and smiles. “Your baby is healthy.”
From Guest Contributor Hetal Shah
Hetal graduated with her Bachelor of Commerce from SIES. She lives in Mumbai with her husband, son, and daughter. She rekindled her hobby of writing over the past year. She is the winner of Mumbai Poetry League 2020, and her poem was published in an anthology by Poets of Mumbai called Guldastaa A Bouquet of Poems. She also writes flash fiction, and has been published twice on 101words.org. She loves to read, and especially enjoys reading and writing stories of romance and everyday life. Besides writing, she enjoys cooking new cuisines, traveling, and singing.
Aug
Afterlife
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
People say when you die you see a tunnel. A bright light. Angels. Pearly gates. Or hellfire and brimstone, depending on your earthly deeds.
Lies.
There is no tunnel. No welcome by ghostly outspread arms. No river of milk and honey.
Instead, I see a river of blue. Vertical lines of binary code, scrolling endlessly in the void. The emptiness is so vast, it tugs at my soul, a remembrance. Grief.
I begin to walk, seeking. I push back the lines of code like a curtain. And then there you are. Your ocean eyes, your quicksilver smile.
“Welcome home, love.”
From Guest Contributor Heather R. Parker
Aug
Narcissi
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Resplendent in her white dress, she headed down the steps from the veranda. He tightened his parka to stave off the wind and followed.
Behind the house they built, they strode toward the pond, their barren feet leaving a trail along the mucky ground. Her smile was terse, he clenched his jaw. He searched for something new to say, she shook her head. They knit their hands, now ringless, and peered at their reflection.
Later, when the children rushed out to search for them, all they found by the water’s edge was a white lily rising beside a thistle bush.
From Guest Contributor Nicholas Katsanis
Nico is a writer of magical realism and absurdist fiction. His work has appeared in 50-word stories and Literally Stories. Look out for his debut novel Bocce at the End of the World in 2022 and follow him on Twitter @nicholaskatsan1
Jul
Eye Of Beholder
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Todd had always put others before himself, which had brought a sense of well-being and worth when he was young.
But the years and the takers had garnered their toll: the most recent family emergency leaving him stranded on an island of agoraphobia.
He’d just washed the dishes when the doorbell rang.
The wireless security camera bought online amid a bout of paranoia relayed the image of a stranger with a clipboard – practiced smile glued to his face.
Todd could just make out the logo of a phone company on the top sheet.
Another would-be taker.
Sunlight glinted off steak-knives.
From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid
Jun
The Mona Lisa
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Mona was known for her smile, but really, what was so great about it? Just a slice of smile, nothing big and welcoming. Not a smile with a future in it, more of a flirtatious glance than anything else.
Mary Lee had a big welcoming smile. It had greeted legions of men. It was a smile that had launched many ships, one that let men know that she was available and ready for marriage. Perhaps that had been part of her problem. Men wanted what they couldn’t have. They preferred having their hearts broken over settling down to someone real.
From Guest Contributor Eliza Mimski
Apr
Sometimes
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Sometimes at night I cling to her hand in the darkness and try to imagine what she’s dreaming.
Sometimes the illusion of connection is disrupted enough that I acknowledge–never out loud–the person I fell in love with is my own creation.
Sometimes I wake up early and clean the house before I go to work without ever insisting on credit.
Sometimes I’m so angry that the next words out of my mouth will mean the end.
Sometimes her smile reminds me of why I asked her to marry me.
But most of the time we just watch television.
Jan
Rejuvenation Maestro
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
He’d become accustomed to his trifocals and dentures; took his half-dozen morning pills religiously; prayed for just one more upright day, another day to deal with his rapidly advancing age.
Even though he still had his youthful smile and the remnants of his ponytail, most of his hair had gone and what little remained had long since thinned and greyed, then whitened. He usually shunned the morning mirror.
His grandson’s youngest daughter (almost half-way through her troubled, rebellious teens) said, “Don’t worry, Pop-Pop; I can fix you up real good,” and before he knew it they had matching blue hair.
From Guest Contributor Ron. Lavalette
Ron’s many published works, including his debut chapbook, Fallen Away, can be found HERE.