Posts Tagged ‘Time’
Dec
All The Time In The World
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“Paul, Emily here.” Pleasant and composed as always. “I need a power of attorney for my mom, Agnes.”
“Sure. Why the POA?”
“Mom has terminal cancer. Not yet but very soon she’ll need heavy morphine. I’ll handle her affairs.”
We meet at Hospice. Agnes is sitting up, hair brushed, gracious, as pleasant and composed as Emily. She signs the POA, we find witnesses. We chat, then: “Thanks, Paul, so very much. Goodbye!” All without any misgivings, remorse, self-pity. As I leave, mother and daughter carry on, chatting amiably. They make the most of it.
All the time in the world.
From Guest Contributor Tony Covatta
Dec
The Island
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Emmett had one wish, a quiet place to call his own.
He found his island floating above the planes of a fractured, blackened Earth. A small, dark place, untouched by the sun as it hovers with a dizzying presence. This place does not feel like it belongs to the world that Emmett knows, but it has been here since time began and will continue even when the sun collapses, when all life on Earth ends.
It contains nothing except itself (nothing but pure consciousness), for this is space without form or substance, and it is a terrible sight to behold.
From Guest Contributor J. Iner Souster
Dec
Sightseeing In The Subway
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
There are names scratched onto the walls of New York City subway cars. Monday it was Mark. Tuesday, Dylan. Wednesday, Fatima. Thursday, Kat, and Friday, Lucy. The poorly carved letters, engraved with care, resemble the jagged handwriting of a preschooler; It’s something inexplicably human. Though the scratches will fade, and the steel of the cars will corrode, I like to think otherwise; the remnants of these people will linger long after time forgets who they are. Every name I spot, a wave of tranquility washes over me as I stand in a mess of busy people in a busy city.
From Guest Contributor Eshal Yazdani
Nov
Sweet Freedom
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Mira closes her eyes and concentrates.
“Very good, Mira. This time you held your concentration and an apple appeared.”
Mira takes a hard bite of the fruit with a distasteful expression. She is telekinetic, and her parents sent her to a special school for young adults with the same talent. She hasn’t forgiven them.
“Try it again, only think larger.”
Mira resumes her position and raises her lips into a grin.
The roof caves in, and a black convertible appears, surrounded by falling rubble. Mira gets in, puts the car in gear and speeds through the debris into sweet freedom.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Nov
Kingdom
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I want to assure you we are all safe here. We have adequate resources to wait until all of the infected have died. With our fortifications and firepower there is no way any plague carriers can get in here. Furthermore, all of you have been chosen for your talent, intelligence, and genes for repopulating the country when the time is right. As long as you trust me as your King, we will prevail against all challenges. Questions? Yes, my good friend Geraldine Jackson. King, have you looked in a mirror lately? You have a red splotch on your right cheek.
From Guest Contributor Doug Hawley
Oct
Echo Of Inevitability
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Sounds become muffled. All she hears is an echo bouncing off the walls. For an infinitesimal moment her soul levitates, detaching from the present. She looks at the doctor’s face as words grow inaudible. A silent scream explodes from her lungs into an invisible body spasm. A voice in her head continues unrestrained: ‘She’ll be alone” but her mind allows her to compose herself as she kisses minuscule freckles on her daughter’s face. As chubby little fingers wipe off her tears, she peers into the eyes of Innocence, so intrinsic, untainted.
The headstone inscribes: ‘RIP Innocence. Your life starts anew.’
From Guest Contributor Andrea Damic
Amateur photographer and author of micro and flash fiction, Andrea Damic, born in Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina, lives in Sydney, Australia. Her words have been published or are forthcoming in 50-Word Stories, Friday Flash Fiction, Microfiction Monday Magazine, Paragraph Planet, 100 Word Project & TDDR with her art featuring or forthcoming in Rejection Letters, Door Is A Jar Magazine, and Fusion Art’s Exhibitions. One day she hopes to finish and publish her novel. You can find her on TW @DamicAndrea, Facebook or Instagram.
Oct
Fifty-Fifty: A Sullen Revival
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
scowling, baldwin grabbed the welcome-to-9 birthday card from the tv compartment. birthdays? useless! he thought. aren’t birthdays for children whom god gave little time and had to celebrate their short lives. just like my twinnie.
he crumpled the card. flung it. headed for the garden.
seeing him, his mother flinched. this wasn’t baldwin. but why wear baldwin’s clothes? even baldwin’s red hair?
—joey!
—i’m now baldwin. no longer joey. i come to say ‘no birthdays anymore!’
—whatcha doing, eh?
—we’re fine wi’ddis, mum.
his mother wiped tears. groaned. —baldwin’s dead, joey. stop this.
—he’s my twin. he wanna live, too!
From Guest Contributor Elisha Oluyemi
Sep
It’s Not My Fault
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
‘Can you please complete your homework?’ the frustrated dad nagged his uninspired child, for three consecutive days, rather the Sony PlayStation grasped her attention.
‘Hmm’ this being her only response.
On the fourth day, the exasperated father was summoned to the principal’s office, knowing full well that he would be questioned regarding his child’s tardiness, he braced himself.
‘Dear Mr. So and So, it saddens us to summon you to school like this,’ the Headmistress began to berate him, ‘your child has complained to us regarding her inability to complete her homework due to you occupying her time after school.
From Guest Contributor Imraan Ganie
Imraan is a seasoned technologist, father of 3, and a lyrical addict who writes short stories, poetry, and limericks in his spare time. His quirky take on life, inspired by his curiously unconventional life experiences lead to twists of humour and tales that are always entertaining. Imraan lives on the Southern Coast of KwaZulu Natal in South Africa. Imraan has two short stories published in 2021 in an anthology called Taxi through Mzansi featuring short stories by twenty of South Africa’s finest authors.
Sep
Platero And I: Smoke-Dry
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
There is El Boncalo, Platero. It is too late now to turn around without insulting him.
Look, that eternal hand-rolled cigarette is dangling from his lower lip again. It just smells awful.
Whenever I see him, I think of the time when I was a young man and thought I could impress the girls coming out of the sewing workshop in Calle de la Escula by lighting a cigarette with an American lighter, just like a movie star.
What a fool I was back then, Platero.
Frankly, I don’t miss smoking, much like some other things aging makes superfluous.
Apparently.
From Guest Contributor Hervé Suys
Hervé (°1968 – Ronse, Belgium) started writing short stories whilst recovering from a sports injury and he hasn’t stopped since. Generally he writes them hatless and barefooted.
Aug
Multiverse Question?
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Wandering the multiverse. I find the concept of change the bi-word of everything. One day, the illusion spells the reality of a word one way. The next day, the reality spells it another. The definition of wisdom is to come to some understanding? Probably why I still have not mastered how to play the cord of C on a guitar.
If everything changes from one reality to the next. What is the purpose of study? Defining a reality for when the next moment you could be elsewhere seems the definition of absurdity. To waste time trying to understand. Try to succeed.
From Guest Contributor Clinton Siegle