Posts Tagged ‘Voice’
Dec
Person To Notify
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“Have I reached Frieda Grompkin?”
“Yes.” Frieda did not recognize the voice nor number on her phone.
“I’m calling from the hospital. It’s about Ed.”
“Ed?” She hadn’t seen her ex-husband in 6 years. “What?”
“You’re listed as the person to notify. He needs emergency surgery after the accident.”
There was some mistake in the record. Why was she listed?
“Tell him he’s overdue on his last three alimony payments.” It was best not to say, “Tell that bum…”
“He may not make it.”
No more payments? But, no more Ed?
“Oh. In that case, thank you for the call.”
From Guest Contributor David Sydney
Nov
The Promise
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
When I enter the library, I take a deep breath. I haven’t been here in months, but I had a promise to keep, so I pushed myself out of bed and here I am.
I walk to the fiction section and scan the row of books. I choose a few of my all-time favorite classics and find a seat near the window, once his favorite spot.
I miss him terribly, but I promised I would continue to come, even though it pains me.
He had said he would always be with me through books.
I can almost hear his voice.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Oct
The Garden
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“Be seen not heard,” they’d say. Even as I dreamt my voice was void. I found myself questioning; was I even being noticed? My arms were flailing, begging for someone to lay their eyes on me. Their blank stare told me all I needed to know. I was nothing at all. I sauntered to the garden and rested my head on the bed of soft blooms. The leaves wound and bent until they filled up my throat, my ears, my eyes; beauty had taken over. I was pulled into the damp soil. I was now definitively neither seen nor heard.
From Guest Contributor Kenna Elliot
Jul
A Boy I Knew
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
A boy I knew killed a man. Lost his mind. Shaved his head. His face on the news was an open-mouthed scream, soundless. His eyes so round, searching. I whispered to the screen: please blink. I said it like ice in his mouth, like the way he’d look up at stars puncturing the still night sky, the cold air, too many angles of his body pushing out, knees and elbows and chin. I said it without hope. When this boy was mine, he danced and wide-smiled and kissed and laughed. His voice rang out, ethereal, hit the earth like rain.
From Guest Contributor Beth Mead
Jul
Raise Your Voice
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
raise it as if your life depends on it. Your future too.
Scream if needed. Scream even if your voice cracks.
Don’t wait for help, help yourself.
Learn to survive, and remember,
the young neighbor who cries every night,
a distant cousin with a broken arm, a young girl on the bus, with bruised marks.
Remember the scars, the burns, the pain, the losses too.
Read the silence, the untold stories behind every closed door.
Then write a new story, draw a new picture,
paint your toenails red, wear a bindi, go out and shout
Shout until you are heard.
From Guest Contributor Marzia Rahman
Marzia is a Bangladeshi fiction writer and translator. Her writings have appeared in several print and online journals. Her novella-in-flash If Dreams had wings and Houses were built on clouds was longlisted in the Bath Novella in Flash Award Competition in 2022.She is currently working on a novella. She is also a painter.
Jun
The Sermon
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Pastor Franzmeier was disturbed. For his upcoming Sunday sermon, he’d chosen the Book of Genesis. Why not start there? “In the beginning, God created the heaven and the earth.” But then the nagging questions occurred – Could it have been different? Had the Almighty blown it?
He sat back in his chair, placing his third cup of coffee on the table beside him. How many more would he need? As he massaged his temples, a booming voice from the heavens above shook the room, overturning the cup. “YOU CALL THAT BLOWING IT, FRANZMEIER? LET’S SEE HOW YOUR SERMON GOES THIS SUNDAY…”
From Guest Contributor David Sydney
Jun
The Sneeze
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Otto couldn’t stifle it. Did he want to sneeze all over Felice? No. But he did. And here he’d planned for a pleasant evening at the small BYOB Italian restaurant.
“God bless you, Otto,” offered Felice as she grabbed her napkin.
“WHAT’RE YOU TALKING ABOUT!” It was a deep voice from above. Loud enough to shake the table.
Again, Otto sneezed. His nose was running now, but things weren’t running well with Felice. And he’d brought a bottle of Pinot Grigio.
“God bless you, Otto,” said Felice again, politely.
“NO WAY I’M BLESSING OTTO!” boomed the terrifying voice. “NOT OTTO!”
From Guest Contributor David Sydney
May
Songs Of Memory
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Mother Spider began to sing, and a harmony of words awoke the web of memories. I searched for that moment of allure in those endless dark trees when she first spoke. There were so many expressions on my tongue, but I couldn’t remember them all.
“How do you know all that?”
She whispered, “How do I know anything?”
Her words became my words, rising and falling, flickering and weaving as she sang.
I learned everything from Mother Spider, as did all the other spiders who heard her voice long before the flood of darkness fell and created those endless woods.
From Guest Contributor J. Iner Souster
Apr
The Bully Business Professor
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The asshat in an ascot quoted Foucault. He made faculty senate holy hell. I think he was in English, maybe History; I knew he wasn’t in athletics!
Anyway, motherfucker just loved the drone of his self-important voice. How about the dulcet tone of a head slap?
I snapped and pummeled him. An Engineering professor high-fived me before public safety came.
At my hearing, I learned he was old money, Ivy League—his mom and dad were philanthropists. He smirked when I got suspended.
Afterwards, I gave him a super wedgy and nasty pink belly.
That’s my story.
Paper or Plastic?
From Guest Contributor JD Clapp
Apr
Papa
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I slip through alleys to get to the resistance and relay the information I have learned. The black out starts and the only sound is the rustling of my dress.
I hear footsteps and then a voice. “Halt! Papers.”
“Certainly. My father is sick and needed medicine. I had to go across town to the only doctor available.”
There’s something in his eyes that I don’t trust. I stab him through the gut. I’m almost in the clear and then a shot rings out. Blood soaks through my dress, I gasp for air and then collapse.
See you soon, Papa.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher