Posts Tagged ‘War’


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


There Hangs The Sword

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

There hangs the sword, the one handed down from father, to son, to me, the symbol of my family, the defender of our home, the weapon that has slain hundreds, that fought for our homeland in the long war, and struck fear into our enemies, the blade that was retired but never allowed to dull, that was laid to rest but never sheathed, that was put on display as a reminder to all future interlopers this house will forever be vigilant, there is the sword even now, still hanging there, as I slowly bleed out on the floor below it.


A Day, A Span

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

At dawn I am brought forth into this world, howling, crying. Mama, a girl hardly thirteen, swaddling my small frail body in a torn shawl. Oblivious that I am a load, or so I think.

At noon I walk briskly through dusty thorny paths nobody else walks through. A long march that brings only thirst. Fighting a war with no combatants. I am an assassin. I aim, I miss. I aim again, I hit.

By dusk I am an old man walking out of this world, soon. Mama, so long a spirit by now. Papa, a boy hardly an adult.

From Guest Contributor Troy Onyango



by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

She kept the Nevers in a shoebox. Most came from her mother, from childhood, but even now, she could sense her mother preparing more for Christmas. Her step-father gave her a few in the early years, but they faded to nothing as their relationship thickened to indifference.

The one from her father appeared the day after he died. Everyone thought she was too young to remember his return from the war, the nightmares, the gun shot, the funeral. Perhaps she had been, but she still kept the Never, like a scar.

She often wondered why he’d left her only one.

From Guest Contributor EM Eastick


Caught In The Fury

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

One came at him from behind, another from the side. The assault started only minutes ago yet to him it felt longer.

He recalled his father’s war experiences. How as a mere twenty-year-old he was expected to carry out his country’s mission. The horror of losing many close friends while he was able to return home haunted him to the end of his life.

The present situation was nowhere as difficult as his father’s. The opponent stalled, giving him the chance to counterattack.

He leaped into a pile of paper, shaped sheets into airplanes. Aimed at his son.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. Her work has been 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.


The First Alien Invasion

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The First Alien Invasion, also known as The Real War of The Worlds (2029 – 2040) was a conflict of extrasolar[citation needed] aliens with Earth governments and international organizations – US, China, Russia, and NATO[1][2]. The immediate cause was an invasion of aliens to Mars. The aliens built a few structures on the surface and remained silent during attempts to communicate via Mars rovers’ signals, satellites, radio, and laser transmissions. The US and China’s ballistic missiles sent to Mars were destroyed on approach [8]:415. The subsequent attack by the United Earth fleet found Mars abandoned, structures spelling “Welcome to Mars.”

From Guest Contributor Vicki Doronina


The Trenches

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Joseph lived in the trenches. The others came and went, firing weapons at the enemy location before marching elsewhere. Joseph always stayed.

The soldiers ignored him, except to push him aside when he got in their way. On occasion, an officer noticed him and ordered that he be taken away, but then a bomb would explode and Joseph was left to his own devices.

Joseph had a reasonably comfortable spot. He mostly just lay in the soft mud. It no longer mattered if he was face down in the pool of water at their feet. Breathing was no longer necessary.



by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Baldwin kept careful track of his place in line. It was important that he always know exactly where along the front he was in relation to the enemy. At this moment, he was 240th back. That didn’t mean he was going to be the 240th soldier to die. Death was random in war. He’d kept track of enough battles to know that sometimes the 240th person would be shot in the head, and sometimes he’d be injured by shrapnel, and sometimes he’d remain unscathed. There was no pattern, but it still helped him feel in control to do the counting.


The Coffee Wars

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The Coffee Wars began in the 21st century, but unlike the other Great Wars, which ended via the exchange of cash settlements or mineral rights, the Coffee Wars dragged on.

John Grimes was the last survivor. Decades after the plantation riots, Grimes was housed in the Starbucks Asylum. He was kept alive through intravenous caffeination that was still technically against the law, but which was rarely enforced outside of government clinics.

It was Grimes’ silent presence that allowed Starbucks, his chief adversary, to eventually quell the resistance. Grimes glumly watched, unable to act, or even speak, through the caffeine-induced shaking.


For What Reason A Choice

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Whenever she thought about the past, a heavy sadness weighed on her. Her term as Empress had been glorious and she was widely acknowledged as the greatest monarch in living memory.

Now that the peaceful successions had ended, and the municipalities were constantly at war, she regretted not holding on to power. It was the irony of their political system that those most worthy of holding power were those least likely to retain it.

Of course, giving up power had not been her first choice. She’d done so out of spite. Anything to get back at that ex-boyfriend of hers.