Posts Tagged ‘Sunlight’
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
Mar
Broke
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Bills. They stacked up like a child’s art project on the kitchen
table, each stamped red with the word “overdue.” The house was
crumbling down, the wallpaper peeling off every panel. The walls
trembled as the couple screamed at each other. Blame flew like
household objects; lamps, chairs, and plates.
They stormed off in a huff to the same bedroom, facing away from each
other, their faces too hot and hearts beating too hard to sleep.
So they stayed awake, until the sunlight streaked in through the
broken blinds and the couple was ready to start the routine over
again.
From Guest Contributor Artie Kuyper
Jun
Gordon Perkins, Analyst
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
NATURE SUBMISSION:
Gordon drummed his pen listlessly as he stared out the window. From his office on the 24th floor, it was possible to see a sliver of ocean, but only when pressed against the glass. Here at his desk, all that was visible was the building across the street, a grey brick affair more depressing than his cubicle.
The plant on Gordon’s desk was equally as depressed, drooping over the edge of the pot, three detached brown leaves huddled in the corner. They both needed the same cure. Sunlight and soil.
Instead, Gordon returned to the spreadsheet open on his desktop.
From Guest Contributor Stanley Dutt
Mar
Confessions
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Did she hear right?
The curtains are parted. It is naked black in the bedroom except for a slice of light exposing one hazel eye, the outline of his angular face. Clare knows how soft that eye-brow is to touch and how it is to be in the centre of that dark gaze.
Moving to the window, she peers outside: they will never be two names chiselled into a hill, hewn into rock. For months she wished she was that whisper of sunlight on his face. That and no more.
‘I’m married,’ Mike repeats.
‘I heard you. So am I.’
From Guest Contributor Louise Worthington
Mar
Along The River
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Tawny wings tail the Arkansas and their shadows brush Russian olive. A hoo! drifts along begging recognition. Drowning the scuttle of waves, a quavering reply invites determination. Feathers ripple towards cottonwoods, nudging the fading sunlight across leaves and between branches. He allows a hoot to stray ahead asking for her to answer with a wandering whistle. The night approaches with a dimming silence that hushes happenings of the day and offers silhouettes. Moonlight shifts over a hollow as a frayed figure sails with unfurled wings. They settle below the canopy and dust bark with steadied feathers, ceasing flight for tonight.
From Guest Contributor Kristi Kerico
Kristi is a psychology major at Pikes Peak Community College. She is studying to become a horticultural therapist. She currently works at a bookstore and volunteers at a zoo and nature center. She began writing after enrolling in a creative writing course at PPCC. She enjoys poetry the most, considering it’s brief yet complex beauty. She also loves writing with a focus on nature.
Mar
The Postcard
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I sit in the beaming sunlight reading Tim’s postcard from France repeatedly.
“Callie, I met a beautiful French woman and we’re in love. I’m not coming home.”
My sweat drips onto the postcard leaving smudge marks. How could he do this to me? I’m so aghast, I throw the postcard on the grass and my dog Bentley whimpers as I kick the lawn chair across the yard, hitting the neighbor’s fence.
“Hey, watch it, Callie! You’ll break my fence,” Charlie yells.
Before I have a chance to answer, I look at the postcard and chortle. It’s full of bird excrement.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Aug
The Eclipse
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
John stared down at the multitudes surrounding him. From his spot at the top of the hill, he could see in all directions. Thousands of people stared up. All here to see him.
As the darkness gradually deepened, the excitement of the crowd grew. Strange glasses were raised to faces. Perhaps they hoped to look more closely at John, in all his glory. But if the sunlight continued to disappear, no one would see anything.
John did not like their attention to be diverted away from him. He deserved the acclaim. Much more so than some trivial act of nature.
May
A Singular Engagement
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
William cradled his seven billion secret.
So many sparkles, surfaces splintering sunlight.
He couldn’t name a single confidant. The gravity and the gossamer belonged to him alone.
He snapped the case shut. The light remained. Would it fit? He believed so. He hoped so.
Then again, it didn’t matter. If it fit, they’d tell a fairy book tale. If it didn’t, they’d laugh, they’d reconsider, and they’d refit, impervious to the punches.
All of which they would come to know together. In the meantime, he’d know all alone, confident yet precarious in the center of his chest.
Witnesses could wait.
From Guest Contributor Frankie Sturm
Mar
The Retreating River
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Peering through the tinted windows, she saw the river’s glittering trickle and the constellation of shiny debris scattered over the vast expanse of sand. Plate-sized, they glinted in promise. Starfish? Shells? Ornaments discarded as the river retreated to curl down in a corner?
Sliding back the glass, she blinked. Stark sunlight shone down on a thousand shell-bright paper plates, discarded as family picnics retreated to idle their way home, say their twilight prayers, curl down in a corner, and let the television flash blindly off their faces.
The train blew past the retreating river with barely a sigh, as always.
From Guest Contributor Aparna Nandakumar
Aparna lives in Calicut, India, and writes poems and short stories. Her work has previously been published at Atticus Review and A Story in 100 Words, and is forthcoming at Cafe Dissensus and Red River Review.
Nov
Crater Lake
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Raymond stared across the horizon. Where Denver once stood, there was just a huge crater lake beneath a shimmering mist. The black water reflected the sunlight like a dark twisted mirror. There was no sigh of any survivors.
Raymond stared down at the manual in his hand. He thought he had followed the instructions exactly. He was not an expert in science or technology by any means, so he couldn’t understand how turning on the wireless radio would have obliterated his home town.
All he knew was that he would be plagued by guilt for the rest of his life.