Posts Tagged ‘Voice’
Oct
Expired
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Lucie hears the police officer’s voice so clearly in her memory. We’re sorry, your husband has been hit by a drunk driver and he’s unresponsive. Come to the hospital immediately.
She’s helpless, afraid, when she sees John still, and bleeding from his head.
Lucie stares out the window watching the birds fly, chirping in unison. The clouds give way to abundant sunshine and she waits for the doctor, impatiently biting her nails.
The doctor’s words are imprinted in her mind. Internal injuries. Needs surgery immediately.
“Mrs. Giovani, I’m very sorry. Your husband expired on the operating table.”
The sky darkens.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Sep
Death
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I opened my eyes and spoke with the angel at the foot of my bed.
He didn’t have wings or look like Brad Pitt. His name was Derek; originally from Basildon.
“What happened to me, Derek?”
“You’re dead,” he replied.
“How?” I asked, my voice catching in my throat.
“Car crash.”
“When?”
“An hour ago. They tried reviving you. Your time of death was six-thirty.”
“So, I was on my way home from work then?”
“I suppose so,” Derek replied, not seeming to care one way or the other.
“Did they say what caused it?”
“You were texting someone, apparently.”
From Guest Contributor Bernie Hanvey
Jun
The Gladiator
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
He was a Gladiator, slaying every question with his answers. Judges admired him as the Atlas lifting our team. At first, I pitied for our status, consequently he hoarded us.
I couldn’t even try to lift my head because of my shame. He slogged us into the finals. In the finals, we had partaken and led our way to the trophy till the judge asked our last question. The sound of the question holed my heart, other team was celebrating their win, already.
A voice raised from our side answering the question. That spotless answer navigated us to the trophy.
From Guest Contributor Vivek Vr
Feb
Sophie’s Voice
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
It got to the best of them.
“Yes, I went to that movie, have those boots, test-drove that car just the other week,” Sophie would yipe.
There was nothing she had not lived, owned, eaten, worn, dated, or experienced by association: no conversation – however private or surreptitious – she didn’t inveigle her way into.
They decided to invent something to teach her a lesson.
“Went to that gig you recommended, Gloria. Buttinskis? Wow!!”
“Nosey can fairly play that bass, eh?”
“Oh yes, I went to their debut last month,” Sophie interjected.
Their shared smirk soured at her gormless need to belong.
From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid
Nov
Mary Of Silence
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
From where she stood, she watched the blood soak into the hard, compacted earth. It was like watching water that has spilled from a glass onto the countertop evaporate in fast motion. Soon it would be as if the dark fluid had never been there, absorbed into this wasteland where it could serve no purpose.
Mary wanted to scream. But her voice had fled long ago. With no one willing to listen futility had eventually won out. The doctors called it aphasia.
So Mary watched her husband die. Here, freedom surely was a bitterness. Alone, she started walking towards sunset.
Sep
Why Do I Lose My Voice When I Have Something to Say?
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Jo cleared her throat. She’d prepared for this moment from the instant an audience had been granted. This was a safe space to share her story, to give voice to all the degradation she’d suffered at his hands. She would finally see justice done.
Instead, when her time arrived and the judge called her to the stand, Jo found she was unable to speak. It was everything that she feared. Just like during the interrogation. At the inquest. During the trial. The truth was they’d arrived at this moment despite her many failures.
Maybe she didn’t deserve justice after all.
Aug
The Pit And The Stone
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
A mere glimmer of light reflected off the patches of clammy wall not occupied by greasy lichen and water-laden moss as he hung awkwardly upside-down, blood rushing to his head.
The darkness was dank and oppressive, and he began to wonder exactly what bacteria or even viruses he might pick up fulfilling this bucket list item. Well, he could blame no-one but himself.
He twisted a little and stretched, bracing himself against the other wall, slipping a little on the slimy algae.
A furious voice drifted down from above “If he doesn’t kiss the damn Blarney soon, I’m letting go!”
From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid
Jul
A Beautiful Day For A Stroll
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I strolled down the street enjoying the spring air. Birds chirped, and
squirrels crossed my path. What a beautiful day for a walk.
“Hey, Bree,” a voice yelled from across the street.
It was Myra. A nice person, but too verbose.
“Guess what, I got a job at Smith & Smith. I start next Monday. Isn’t
that great! I can’t wait until I tell my boyfriend Hank. He’ll be so
excited. Do you want to get coffee? I could really use a cup.”
“Got to go, Myra. Good luck.”
“Are you sure you don’t want…”
My stroll became a jog.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
May
Tick Tock
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
With his apartment empty and no sounds other than the ticking of the clock, Timothy took a walk in the cold night air until a bright sign caught his eye. Psychic Reading. Reluctantly, he went inside.
“I’m, Tianna. Sit.”
Tianna smoothed her fingers across his palm. “You will be the cause of a terrible accident.”
Upset, Timothy stormed out and crossed the street when he heard a woman’s voice.
“Hey, you didn’t pay me!”
He turned and then a car came to a screeching halt, but not before hitting Tianna.
Still on the ground, her eyes open, Tianna was dead.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
May
Writing Over
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I had
This poem
That was like
Re-
Fusing
To be
Like junk
Running late
In your veins
Re-
Wiring
Memories
Before they
are made
Okay, they
are not
sunk in
That deep
But narrative
About this
Is on its
Way but
its late
just like
This feeling-
Passing-
Feeling
Re-
Living
Screens to
Sublimated
Dreams
I’m walking
And the sun
Hits me
Everyone wants
To have
Something
They don’t
See, in you
this poetry
Concealed in
A voice
But they will keep
Writing your
Story over
Before it is
One
Before once
Even noting
That your poem
Is already
From Guest Contributor Wyatt Martin