Posts Tagged ‘Woman’
Oct
Apple Jenga
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Pyramids of fruit abound in the market’s produce section.
A man pokes and squeezes to find the perfect Gala. Five tiers down, he locates a winner, and the Jenga game begins.
He shapes his hand into a “C,” then moves in slowly to extract the prize, leaving a hole in the pyramid where the apple once was.
Standing a little taller, he raises his chin and puffs up his chest.
One aisle over, he sees a woman arch her back and hold her shoulders high. Next to her, three holes exist in the Golden Delicious pile.
He’s met his match.
From Guest Contributor Jennifer Lai
Jul
Dear New York
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Your 9 a.m. is my six. Once again, you didn’t leave a message. I was asleep, and not dreaming of my youth. Or Bobby Short at the Carlyle, Yul Brynner as the King. The Oak Room, their scotch so expensive I almost gave it up. Since I’m awake now, I’ve begun my day. Doing the wash. Starting breakfast. Wondering what it is you want. Why not cast me aside as just another woman who headed west when the buildings fell? Here, the mountains are tall, the sea, a pebble’s throw away. I know it’s you, New York. Calling me home.
From Guest Contributor Linda Lowe
Linda’s stories and poems have appeared in Outlook Springs, A Story in 100 Words, What Rough Beast, the New Verse News, Misfit Magazine, and others.
Apr
Ignis Fatuus
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
HISTORICAL FICTION ENTRY:
The three sisters couldn’t spend their summer at home because of smallpox in the town. Their parents acquired the old farmhouse close to the boarding school and their favorite teacher agreed to spend her vacation taking care of them. She told them why the house was empty, of the little girl, who drowned in the cow pond. In time, the spirit came to each: in a dream; as a light over the field at dusk; and to the third sister, as the woman she spent the rest of her life with, from the age of twenty-eight, in a Boston marriage.
From Guest Contributor Jon Fain
Thus far in 2020, Jon’s fiction has appeared in 50-Word Stories, Fleas on the Dog, City. River. Tree., and Blue Lake Review.
Feb
Embers
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
He thinks he sees her again and he’s mesmerized by her perfection.
He watches her and remembers his perfect past; remembers what it was like for him all those many years ago when, returning home, he’d find the perfect woman there, smiling, standing beside the fireplace, close to the fire, waiting. He can’t always recall her name, but he remembers the fire and her smile; the perfectly soft glow, the welcoming warmth.
These are the benedictions of age, he thinks. Even when the fire burns low, there is memory and imagination; even in an empty room I am never alone.
From Guest Contributor Ron. Lavalette
Find Ron. Lavalette’s work at: EGGS OVER TOKYO
Jan
I Dreamt The Ocean Was A Woman
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I dreamt that the ocean was a woman and she swallowed me. One second I was laying in my bed, and the next I was sliding down her throat. As I tumbled down, I felt seaweed and kelp cocoon around my body, wrapping tighter and tighter as I dropped further and further down her gullet. Her stomach was bedded with coral that deeply cut my arms and legs. All I could do was lay there, bloody, defenseless, and petrified.
Suddenly, I awoke from the dream, jumped out of bed, and walked towards the ocean to feel it all over again.
From Guest Contributor Melissa Maney
Jul
A Scorned Woman
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
You must realize my darling, that men have more immediate needs than a woman? Allowances should be made for us. You women don’t have to contend with an unruly member when it gets a whiff of a beautiful woman, especially if she smiles back.
You truly don’t have to do this. Please let me out. If you send me back, I’ll not ever be able to return. Please, please, Ruthie, I swear to you I won’t ever stray again. It’s the only time-machine in existence, and I’m much too fat to run from the dinosaurs at my time of life.
From Guest Contributor Len Mooring
Jul
The Goddess Becomes
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
It was a pleasure to burn. Of the eight, it was my most beautiful arm: the hillside slope of the shoulder, the tender elbow, that lilting wrist, narrow yet invincible. Had he seen it in the dance, or still in his Sistine posture, even Michelangelo would have known God is a woman.
The downy hair went up first, and then the skin, the perfect fingernails, the sizzling fat and muscle. There is always a relaxation in admitting the truth, even a truth that smells like sulfur and charcoal: I am the flames as much as I was ever the arm.
From Guest Contributor Brook Bhagat
Brook’s poetry, fiction, non-fiction, and humor have appeared in Monkeybicycle, Empty Mirror Magazine, Harbinger Asylum, MoonPark Review, Little India, Dămfīno, Nowhere Poetry, Rat’s Ass Review, Peacock Journal, Anthem: A Tribute to Leonard Cohen, and other journals and anthologies. In 2013, she and her husband Gaurav created Blue Planet Journal, which she edits and writes for. She holds an MFA from Lindenwood University, teaches poetry and creative writing at a community college, and is writing a novel. See more at www.brook-bhagat.com or reach her on Twitter at @BrookBhagat.
Apr
The Raven And The Crow
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The raven saw the crow perched on the church spire in the middle of town and demanded he make himself scarce.
“I’m the king of the birds and I deserve the best roost.”
The crow scoffed. “I don’t think so.”
The raven puffed up his feathers and flapped his wings threateningly, but the crow was unimpressed. As they were almost exactly the same size, it was unclear who would win in a fight.
“You’re a crow, no different than me. Just because one time a woman mistook you for a raven doesn’t mean you’re better than the rest of us.”
Feb
The Machiavellian Necessities Of A Woman On The New York City Subway
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
For the majority of Deb’s daily commutes, she preoccupied herself with the most strategic seat location choice. She normally picked the open space closest to the door. She didn’t like standing, when it felt like every male gaze pointed her way, or looking for less populated corners, where some old dude would inevitably decide it was cool to plop their sweaty ass right next to her or, sometimes worse, directly across from her.
Being near the exit provided the comfort of knowing she could quickly escape at any stop, should it ever become necessary.
This necessity was a weekly occurrence.
Feb
Perhaps Just An Innocent Woman
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Maybe they were tears or could be a shining in the eye. He was weak and had a fragile walk, while waving at his daughter. His ex-wife looked on with a miffed face. Her long-time affair waited for her, across the road in his Ferrari. She pushed her daughter towards the car. The poor child kept on looking at her father till her last gaze. Both of them separated by destiny and bound out of pure love. She was a gold digger and he a humble professor. Why didn’t he give her some life lessons? She looked deprived of learning.
From Guest Contributor Manmeet Chadha