Posts Tagged ‘Time’


My Sidekick

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

She was the best stress buster I had. My best friend. My confessor, she bore all my messes. Talking to her was necessity not habit. She was my anchor in my bad marriage days. Ironically, my daughter shares a birthday with her.

She is the picture perfect woman to me. She got married to the best guy in the world. I’m so happy for her. I had never thought distance and time would keep us apart in these technologically advanced days. She is in EST and I am IST. What a mess these 9.5 hours have created in my life.

From Guest Contributor Dr. Scribbler


A Loving Wife

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Debra sat beside her husband’s hospital bed, the click of the monitor a regular tune in her head. Barry laid there, his breathing calm and steady. Seeing him hooked up to tubes and unconscious was an unbearable sight. Still, she read to him daily and hoped he heard, but his eyes never opened. It had been one year since his car accident. Trauma to the brain was what the doctor called it.

“I love you, Barry, but it’s time to let you go,” she gently kissed his lips.

As the doctor unplugged the monitor, Debra watched Barry’s chest stop moving.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher


Nothing To Spare

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Yours? Mine? Arguments. Ideologies differ. Attempt to build bridge between us. Links missing. Structure collapses. Earth? Water? No collaboration. Excuses made. Stubbornness. Misunderstandings. Light? Dark? We try meeting at middle ground. Concluding we can’t agree. Not in thought, time or space. Coffee’s gone cold. I mind. He doesn’t. Ketchup smeared on fridge door. I wipe off. Mustard appears. Grass is greener over there, he says. I don’t care. I prefer wildflowers. He repaints the scene with concrete. I’m younger, by two years exact. Can hardly wait for… Brother leaves for college. Forgets his toothbrush. I throw it into his room.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. 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.


Rain Day

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

I stare out the window watching the torrents of rain pound the leaves on my maple tree and listen to the ferocious wind hit against the siding of my house. My dog Patty barks and scratches the windowpane. I pull her next to me on the couch and rub her stomach, the only thing that soothes her. Roads are closed due to flooding and I’m stuck at home.

I had an argument with my boss yesterday about not getting enough time off. Now I’m home and bored out of my mind watching the clock.

It’s funny how things turn out.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher


The Cost Of War

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Grace paced the kitchen while her six-year-old daughter, Sophia, watched curiously. Sophia had bright blue eyes like her father. When would the war end? Grace thought. It had been two months and she hadn’t heard a word from Charles. All she could do to occupy her time was read and take care of Sophia.

Several months later Grace’s doorbell rang. She grabbed her robe and ran downstairs.

It was a military gentleman.

“Are you the wife of Charles McCormick?”

“Yes,” she answered, eyes closed.

“I’m sorry, but your husband died in an explosion.”

Grace collapsed to her knees and wept.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher


Write Story

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

It’s my second semester at college. When I started school, I really wanted to become a writer. But I always have trouble deciding what to write about.

So I’m flunking my Creative Writing class!

Today’s the final and it’s 60% of our grade. The instructor announces, “Write a very short story, with a protagonist, his/her background, his/her goal, an obstacle to that goal, ending with a little twist.”

I have trouble writing any story, let alone one with all those requirements!

Time is running out. So I just start writing:

“It’s my second semester at college. When I started school…”

From Guest Contributor Kent V. Anderson

When Kent isn’t writing stories, he is building robots.


Woman In Silhouette

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

I still remember the night when you left me, air thick with mist, the full moon hanging low like a moth in a tomb of cobwebs. Your deceitful voice was floating like paint fumes, stretching through the void.

«Don’t worry, honey. I’ll be back in a bit,» you said, kissing my forehead with stone-cold lips, smoothing my braids with moist and stiff hands.

Time has swallowed hundreds of full moons ever since, its belly round and black, cradled my sleepwalking heart, watched your features fading away from my memory. Now there’s nothing left of you but a woman in silhouette…

From Guest Contributor Cristina Iuliana Burlacu



by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

She was tired and had too much to drink. Her eyes drooped to provide the perfect screen for strange imaginings. Time passed.

Chloe jolted awake to a shift in the buzz of conversation, her vision presenting a weird split screen of a now empty hotel bar, a new day’s sun barging through the large windows and reflecting off each polished surface to sear through the fog in her brain: judgmentally bright.

Her clothes smelled of staleness and smoke. Stale vomit prowled the back of her throat.

Chloe waddled to the bathroom, suddenly aware of another need.

She’d open late today.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid


Mid-Night Dilemma

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Am I awake? Had I actually slept? I was fighting the urge to check my watch but the curiosity of what unholy hour this was got the better of me.

Slipping my hand out from under the sleeping bag I paused.


Just close your eyes, go back to sleep it’s too early for this.

As I closed my eyes, my thoughts swirled attempting to deduce and desperately seeking an answer I knew would destroy my chances to sleep again this night.

Just sleep.

I can’t.

Inevitably the unbearable urge won and I was cursed with the answer I sought.

From Guest Contributor Michael Major



by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The statue of young Buddha had been an exemplar of serenity when first placed under the tree. Time had passed. Wars had come and gone. Nutrients and sun had been converted into growth by the woody plant’s armoury of respiration and generative processes.

Aashi grinned widely at her discovery. The base of the tree had grown around and in front of the old idol, seemingly intent on squeezing it silly.

She looked closer. Through some trick of lichen growth, the once droopy eyelids and superior smile had been transformed into an expression of squashed distress.

Her tinkling laughter wasn’t malicious.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid