Posts Tagged ‘Words’

21
Nov

As You Wish

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

There’s a man on the television in an outdated suit. He is talking to a famous interviewer I have always liked. The words on the screen read: William Goldman — Author, The Princess Bride.

This is not the truth. I know this for a fact because I have read The Princess Bride. It was not written by a man. It was bequeathed to us fully formed by Prometheus, who stole it from the heavens.

There is one thing the man says that I agree with in addition to his mustache. “The easiest thing to do on Earth is not to write.”

22
Oct

Reasons To Write

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Miguel was seated in front of the word processor, tears running from his eyes. The keys were making their poetic sound. Rhythmically putting letters into words, words into thoughts and ideas that moved things deep within his heart.

“You’re crying again,” Jenny said. “Why do you keep writing?”

“I don’t know,” Miguel replied. “I thought about not writing…”

“You really should.”

“I just think about how dark and painful my life was. Not having any way to get healthier with schizophrenia.” Sitting in the dark Miguel stared into the light. “I can’t leave anyone to fight this on their own.”

From Guest Contributor Steve Colori

4
Sep

Gone

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Twenty years of marriage, twenty years of building a life together. Buying houses and cars. Now she is gone.

For twenty years, she was my everything. The smile in my morning, the sunshine in my day. But now it is dark and quiet.

One argument led to cruel words. Cruel words led to hurt feelings. Hurt feelings took time to heal, but heal they did. Things returned to normal for us. Life continued for us as a couple. Then it happened.

One episode of indiscretion, it wasn’t such a big deal. Deal breaker, she said. She is never coming back.

From Guest Contributor NT Franklin

31
Aug

The Whispers

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The whispering grows louder after exiting the shaman’s hut. If her words are true, the voices following me are not of my own making, but rather the lost souls of the long dead, clamoring for attention.

I’d thought I was the only one, but she told me they speak to everyone, though very few will admit to hearing them. Those who do are branded as heretics or clinically insane. In a way, I preferred believing that I was unique, but perhaps knowing the truth will lead to acceptance from my peers.

I do, however, regret killing all those people now.

23
Jul

Preventing Regret

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The road was empty at two in the morning and felt like a different world.

“We should…go to the strip club…” Jim said slurring his words.

“I don’t know,” I replied. “His wife would kill him. He’d probably screw up.”

“It’s coming up…Just…take us.”

“I’m not so certain.”

“Drop me off and I’ll…I’ll Uber home.”

He hit my arm and pointed. I fiddled through every pre-set radio station.

“Looks like we missed it,” I said.

Two days later we were golfing.

“Thanks for not leaving me there the other night.”

“I didn’t think you remembered that.”

From Guest Contributor Steve Colori

19
Jul

Possibly Stephen

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The writer stared at the page, expecting inspiration to spring at him from the fibres of the old-style reporters’ notebook.

Words trickled…gushed…cascaded. He ripped the page out, rolled it into a tight ball and chucked. It bounced off the bin, thran as the incorporeal muse.

“What was wrong with that?” she asked, form flickering in the draught.

“It was in Latin,” he spat.

She giggled a bit. “Sorry, my mind wandered. I know, how about–?”

“Look, could you put on something less filmy. It’s distracting. Tired, not dead.”

“Tweeds okay?”

He nodded, and wrote Misery.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid

6
Apr

Tell Me Lies! The Truth Is Harsh. Give Me Hope While I’m Falling Apart.

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

He gazed at her, longingly, knowing that it would never be. His dream crashing down upon the floor. Broken words won’t help no more. Her mind was made. His heart–betrayed. He brushed her cheek: a simple good-bye. What more could be done? What more could he supply? He fell to his knees, “my sweet don’t leave!” But, she just left him there to grieve. He fell to the ground, in a sprawl, as the only sound he heard were high heels, echoing off the wall.

There is no time to sit and wait.

Take life’s hand and run with fate.

From Guest Contributor McKenzie A. Frey

28
Mar

Folded Flag

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

She stood in the snow holding a single white carnation facing the cold wall of names. She whispered, turning to the man beside her, “Sir, do you host other events here?”

The man nodded, gently replying, “Would you like to book a reservation for one?”

“Yes, a wedding. But the groom resides here.” She placed the carnation on the ground and caressed the engraved words before her. Evan Perry.

“Not a problem.” He whispered, placing his hand on her shoulder.

“He said he’d come back.” Soon the tears she had held back then flowed down her face, “I’ve been waiting.”

From Guest Contributor Jasmine Som

As a paleo-vegan, Jasmine loves dehydrating fruits to take with her when she hikes. While others stalk celebrities, she looks up new recipes to get creative with. Sadly, cooking with her heavy cast iron pots has her taking on a new workout routine that includes a weight lifting regimen.

16
Nov

Perfectionist

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

After his mother, it was his wife’s turn to chide him for his lethargy. Only a few of his good friends knew him to be a perfectionist. ‘You take a year to complete a chore’ was the common refrain muttered by his wife. His sweet talk on any given day always ended in a tiff. His wife, who envied the life of a butterfly, was fed up with him.

Unfortunately, he died suddenly of a heart attack.

A year later, in a drunken brawl, certain words slipped from two men, which led to the arrest of his wife for murder.

From Guest Contributor Thriveni C. Mysore

1
Nov

The Last Temptation Of Jane

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The paper sat before her, yet Jane feared to look at what was written upon it.

Her training was very clear. If there was ever any doubt as to her immediate circumstances, she was to find a piece of written material. By looking at the words on the page, then turning away, then looking back, she could confirm whether she was in the waking world or not. If the words remained unchanged, she was awake. If the words had changed, it was a dream.

Dreams could be very dangerous. But if this was a dream, Jane didn’t want to know.