Posts Tagged ‘Time’
Feb
Time
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Hope is the eternal companion of time. Whatever amount we have, we always believe there’s more.
Shannon reflects on the time they’ve wasted. Angry for no good reason. Lost in mindless distraction. Drunk to the point of blacking out. That’s time literally given away for nothing.
Now that the end is upon them, she’s choking on the regrets. The bad choices, the meaninglessness. The moments of the past that were perfect and yet so brief and unappreciated.
But those moments were perfect because they were unreflected upon.
All you can do is focus on the hour that is upon you.
Feb
The Broken Vow
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Hank stared at his bloodied hands. Visions of a more peaceful time flashed through his mind, reminders of a life less troubled.
The voice forced such memories aside.
“You’ve done well.”
Hank did not feel worthy of praise. Not after all the death he’d just meted out.
“Don’t feel guilty. You did what you must.”
The worst part, as far as he was concerned, was that he didn’t feel guilty. He’d enjoyed it.
Hank looked at the others around the dinner table. Only his wife seemed to notice that he had broken his vow.
“I guess you’re not vegan anymore.”
Jan
Lights Out
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I heard the news today, oh boy. The sun has gone supernova and in six hours the earth is a cinder. Judy and I broke up, so I went to Henry’s Bar in the hopes of being some woman’s last chance. The one woman there was working her way through the guys. Her “dance card” was already filled. With time growing short, I’d give Judy another chance. She told me “Duke you should have gotten the message. I’m not going to waste my little time left with you. I’m in Jason’s bed making the best of the end of world.”
From Guest Contributor Doug Hawley
Jan
Downstairs
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“Otto, I heard something.”
“What?…What time is it?”
It was 2 AM. They were in their second-floor bedroom.
“I think I heard something downstairs…Could you make sure there isn’t someone breaking in?”
“We have an alarm, Claudette.”
“You’ve heard of disabling them, haven’t you?”
Of course, he’d heard of that.
Only moonbeams filtered into their small bedroom.
“Anyway, Frodo’s down there, Claudette.”
Frodo was a Labrador retriever.
“Yeah…But you know him, and he’s probably playing dead.”
She listened intently for any sounds.
“It all depends on Frodo and you, Otto…Hey, Otto.”
But Otto was playing dead.
From Guest Contributor David Sydney
Dec
Next For Mel
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“Choose.”
“What?” Mel was confused. It was 3 AM. Just moments before, he’d been pleasantly dreaming.
“You don’t know what ‘choose’ means?”
“Huh?”
“CHOOSE, MEL!”
The irritated voice seemed to come from every direction, as though from out of a whirlwind.
“AND MAKE IT SOMETHING INANIMATE.”
This was it.
“TIME’S UP.”
Mel’s life – if it could be called that – was over.
The angel had others to visit that Thursday and more important places to go.
“Couldn’t I be a dog, or a goldfish?”
“REINCARNATION’S MAINLY INTO LIFELESS OBJECTS, MEL.”
People don’t realize.
“Like…into an old basketball?”
“SO BE IT!”
From Guest Contributor David Sydney
Dec
Sand In My Shoes
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Time is an abstract concept. Yet the seconds, minutes, and hours are woven into the very fabric of existence just as surely as the matter around us. The matter inside us, for that matter.
Forgive me the pun. It may be the last one I have time for.
Understanding time is an integral part of the universe doesn’t make it any more concrete. Time depends on where the observer is located.
My days as a young man passed by so quickly. Now, I look down and there’s nothing but sand in my shoes. One breath of wind, and I’m gone.
Nov
Dream?
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The doctor looked at me through his eyeglasses that sat perfectly on the rim of his nose.
“In your dream, you said a spirit you didn’t recognize handed you a feather.”
“Yes, but the figure was only a cloudy shape of a person.”
“What do you suppose the feather represents, Charlie?”
“My father used to train pigeons before he died in the car accident. Maybe that?”
“Possibly. Time to stop. We’ll continue this next week.”
When I arrived home, I felt something in my pants pocket. I reached in and my eyes widened. It was the feather from my dream.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Nov
Transient
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Leaving is always hard, especially when you think you’ve finally found a place to settle. Among the things I’ll miss about this world and its nascent civilisation are the secret songs hummed by pylons, and the brooding silences of daytime streetlights. Perhaps its denizens will evolve someday to not need that artificial interconnectedness that’s so important to them, but I won’t be around to find out. My time, like theirs, has expired: the Vsanic are here, camouflaged, probing, scouting the planet, and I, a fugitive from their cold, imperial justice, must leave before they find me. Time to run, again.
From Guest Contributor Alastair Millar
Oct
Out Of Time
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Christopher ran as fast as possible to the station. Typical, leaving it to the last minute.
He kept hoping Brian would say something first. Even if it wasn’t I’m sorry, the simple act of reaching out would have encouraged Christopher to admit the accusations had been out of line. He can’t help his sensitive heart, and sometimes Brian was the victim.
Now Brian is on the train to Boston. Now Brian is marrying the ex he’d left for Christopher. Now Brian is dead.
The apology will forever go unstated. He will forever be alone. Christopher has fallen out of time.
Oct
Two Ottos
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
By the time he awoke that Saturday morning, Otto was exhausted. It was another night of running dreams – of being on a treadmill, getting no place fast. And, then, of the treadmill ratcheted up to greater and greater inclines.
How much more could he take?
Painfully, step after step, he stumbled into the kitchen. Were his feet blistered?
There, in the cage on the counter, was Little Otto, his hamster.
And on the ridiculous hamster wheel.
Little Otto’s legs moved faster and faster.
“Stop it.”
But Little Otto only sped up.
“At least wipe that damned smirk off your face.”
From Guest Contributor David Sydney