Posts Tagged ‘Sound’
Dec
Christmas Surprises
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Kristy lights the Christmas tree, the glass ornaments glistening in the room. The freshly lit candle gives a warm aroma and the fireplace crackles. They tried for two years to conceive and today she received the wonderful news from the doctor.
Dinner is in the oven, and Kristy is wearing her best red sleeveless dress for the occasion. She sits near the fireplace and listens to the flickering flames, the sound soothing her nervous excitement.
She hears the key in the door and runs to the kitchen.
Cuddled in her husband’s arms is a tiny sleeping puppy.
Another Christmas surprise.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Dec
Reign Of Terror
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
When the reign of terror begins in earnest, a street corner poet with hollow cheeks and large feverish eyes will sit at the anchor desk delivering the news in a toothless mumble and then ignore increasingly frantic signals and pleas to go to commercial break and instead recite between pulls on a bottle a long, rambling, incendiary poem, his voice rising and falling like a medieval executioner’s double-sided axe, until all the baskets are filled with the heads of our namesakes and the only sound that is still worth heeding is the disputatious sound of the children’s orchestra tuning up.
From Guest Contributor Howie Good
Howie’s latest full-length poetry collection, Gun Metal Sky, is due in early 2021 from Thirty West Publishing.
Dec
Assembly Required
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
His parents were poorly assembled themselves. Throw meth and booze into it, and no wonder he grew into a discombobulated mess.
Those who tried to help fled after one too many black eyes from his spazzed-out fists. Well-meaning therapists nodded blankly as he sobbed.
One part worked, though: his left pinkie.
Undoing himself was no walk in the park; piecing himself together was the challenge of a lifetime.
Through trial and error, he bravely persevered.
And one day, like a miracle, all his parts beautifully aligned—with only an occasional faint clicking sound to remind him how far he’d come.
From Guest Contributor Michelle Wilson
Michelle Wilson’s words have appeared in Entropy Squared, 50-Word Stories, 101 Words, Literally Stories, The Miami Herald, and elsewhere. She lives in Miami Beach, Florida. Sometimes, she can be found here.
Sep
Giant Ship
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I listened to the sound of the waves smack against the giant ship, closed my eyes and pictured my wife’s face. Her radiant smile and long blond hair made my heart pulsate. Soon we’d be together once we docked in New York, and she’d be waiting for me with open arms and our son. I relished the thought.
I dropped the picture when the ship shuddered. I opened the door and panicked people filled the hallway.
“What happened?” I asked out loud.
“Titanic has hit an iceberg,” answered a fidgety man.
I went back into my cabin.
Titanic wouldn’t sink.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Sep
Only Beauty Survives
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The king delighted in varying which crowns he wore. One day he’d wear a crown of gold; the next, a crown of silver or of iron, or even a crown eccentrically fashioned from barbed wire. When he wore the latter, he was always surprised when blood ran in rivulets into his eyes. The queen, meanwhile, hated anyone who might be thought more beautiful than she was. She frequently sent assassins throughout the land to eliminate all possible rivals. That sound isn’t thunder, people would say, but an assassin rapping on the door of a cottage until his knuckles are raw.
From Guest Contributor Howie Good
Howie is the author of The Death Row Shuffle, forthcoming from Finishing Line Press. He co-edits the online journals Unbroken and UnLost.
Aug
On Being A Man
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
HUBRIS CONTEST:
His backhand caused her body to pirouette grotesquely before landing face down on the coffee table.
Wincing, she rolled off the table, and sat up, mopping blood futilely from her mouth with the back of her right hand.
“Aren’t ya proud o’ me, workin’ all night?” he whined.
Unblinking, she nodded.
Then, the boy, who’d learned what a man was from his father, brought the cast iron pan onto the back of his father’s head with a sound like a loud wet kiss.
The man slid to the ground gracefully.
Beaming at her son, she said, “Now that’s a man!”
From Guest Contributor Jody Lehrer
Jun
Mother Nature Always Wins
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
NATURE SUBMISSION:
When you push the envelope, sometimes the envelope pushes back.
The architects and the engineers were certain that their calculations were correct. The bridge would save time and effort when driving across the sound. The financing was in place after years of wrangling. The bridge was inaugurated with great fanfare.
The Williwaw was the locals’ name for the wind that came from the north. High winds were not unusual, and the designers of the bridge had accounted for them. Mother Nature didn’t know the words “vortex shedding” or “aeroelastic flutter.” But she didn’t need words, she just needed the wind.
From Guest Contributor Janice Siderius
Jun
Confined By The Sea
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
NATURE SUBMISSION:
I watched as the minute breaking waves climbed the gentle slope of the beach, trying to get as far as possible. As the surf receded, complicated patterns formed in the tawny sand. The pendular movement repeated itself, together with the characteristic sound of the advancing and retreating water. But the smell of the shore at low tide, the taste of the salty spray, the feel of the breeze and the warmth of the early sun were missing. I tossed my mobile phone away and sighed – no video will ever replace the soothing experience of a simple walk by the sea.
From Guest Contributor Miguel Prazeres
May
The Cellar
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Oksana pounded the door of Zoya’s wooden house. She screamed.
“Zoya, the Red Army has surrounded the village. Hide, Zoya!”
Zoya, holding her toddler Ekaterina in her arms, opened the door.
“Oh, God, help us. Oksana, where’s Father Nikolai?”
“They’ve started a fire in the church! Hide, Zoya.”
“God have mercy. Run Oksana. We’ll hide in the cellar.” Zoya pressed her daughter tightly to her breast. She ran to the cellar.
Zoya embraced her daughter. She heard a crashing sound. When she realized the smoke was coming from above, she said, “I love you Ekaterina. We’ll be together in Heaven.”
From Guest Contributor Deborah Shrimplin
Apr
Abracadabra Universe
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I got to tell you, what a computer thinks a man looks like, adversarially evolved hallucinations, is the kind of shit that wears me out. But, apparently, it isn’t the kind of shit that wears most other people out. Their focus is just too taken up with acquiring the essentials – liquor, guns, toilet paper, travel bottles of hand sanitizer – for them to ever notice the heart lying in rags at their feet, or the African monkeys rafting across the Atlantic, or the shrill, jangly sound in the background that can be variously translated as “hello” or “goodbye” or even “peace.”
From Guest Contributor Howie Good
Howie is the author most recently of Stick Figure Opera: 99 100-word Prose Poems from Cajun Mutt Press. He co-edits the online journals Unbroken and UnLost.