Doctor Burke

Doctor Burke’s hands are steadfast as he performs the intricate surgery. The patient has lost blood and the bullet is lodged in his abdomen.

Nurse Benson hands him the scalpel and he gently removes the bullet, but the patient begins to code. Burke uses the defibrillator and after several attempts the man flatlines. The time of death is 3:52pm.

Nurse Benson approaches. “You did everything you could.”

On the way home, all he thinks about is the loss.

When he walks in the door, his wife is waiting with red wine and dinner.

She asks how his first surgery went.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Battlefield

The bombs come at us in droves, the sound deafening. I run across the field dodging bullets and falling bodies, the few men alive still in agonizing pain. Our trench is ahead, and I just need to get there.

Another round of gunfire and screams echoing across the battlefield. My heart pounds heavily and I find it difficult to breathe.

A bullet knocks my helmet off and I’m unprotected.

Someone yells cease fire, grabs my arm, and throws me to the ground. The gunfire has stopped but we’re crawling.

A few feet and we make it safely across.

For now.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Chaos

George fires his rifle, and the bullet hits the enemy in the gut. The man lands with a thud, and blood drips from his mouth. George seeks cover in a nearby ditch, men screaming and dying all around. The sun is fading, and the firing hasn’t stopped. He can’t stay there any longer. One of his comrades jumps in.

“Charles, we need to get out soon or we’ll be sitting ducks.”

They wait until the firing slows and run.

George gets to the other side, but Charles gets fatally shot in the chaos.

George continues running and never looks back.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Officer Down

The bullet tore through flesh and bone. The arm fell limp, and Officer Brady drew his weapon with his non-shooting hand. Their assailant continued to fire from outside the passenger window of the cruiser as his partner slumped unconscious and bleeding in the front seat. Her baby was born in spring. She returned to duty last week.

Placing his front sight on center mass, Brady squeezed the trigger and watched the attacker drop to the pavement. After screaming “officer down” into the microphone, he smashed his foot down on the accelerator, racing the mother of his child to New York-Presbyterian.

From Guest Contributor B.G. Smith

B.G. Smith enjoys writing flash fiction and drinking Kentucky straight bourbon, usually at the same time. B.G. is a married father of four boys and a lifelong fan of Philadelphia professional sports teams, which explains the affinity for bourbon. His stories have appeared in Pocket Fiction, Microfiction Monday Magazine, The Drabble, and Scribes*MICRO*Fiction.

Plastic Jesus In An Upright Tub

Me and Dale chuck rocks at it. Before school, while we wait for the bus on Highway 62 and after school or on Sundays. It's not all we do. We sit and talk about which girl at school we'd most like to bang. I'm more of an ass man. Dale really likes big boobs and has lots of ideas about what to do with them. Dale has a .22 rifle he shoots stuff with. I tried to get him to shoot Plastic Jesus but he said the bullet might ricochet and kill us. That would be a miracle, I said.

From Guest Contributor John Riley

John is the founder and publisher of Morgan Reynolds, an educational publishing company. He has written over forty books of nonfiction for secondary level students. His fiction and poetry have been published in Smokelong Quarterly, Connotation Press, St. Anne's Review, The Dead Mule, and other many other journals both online and in print.

Just Another Day

Officer Barrett aimed and fired his gun, hitting the man in the shoulder. The criminal dropped his weapon and screeched in pain.

“On your knees, hands behind your head,” Barrett said, cuffing the man’s hands.

“Take it easy, I have a bullet in my shoulder,” he wriggled as Barrett pushed him to his feet.

“Better than a bullet in your head, like you did to that poor woman’s husband. You’re going away for a very long time. This was your last house robbery.

Barrett put him in the squad car and slammed the door.

Just another day on the job.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Medic

As we flee the bank, I hear the sound of a gunshot behind me.

I’ve never been shot before but suddenly I’m experiencing a strange sensation and call out, “I think I’ve been shot.” Just my luck to take a bullet.

“I’ll get you tended to,” says Zac. I knew he would. Zac’s reliable like that.

Zac half carries me to our getaway car. I feel myself fading during the rough car ride. “Here we are,” says Zac.

“Tattoo parlour,” I moan in disbelief. “You’ve brought me to a tattoo artist?”

“He’s famous”, says Zac reassuringly, “For good body piercing.”From Guest Contributor Barry O'Farrell

Barry O'Farrell is an actor living in Brisbane, Australia. Barry's other stories have appeared in Cyclamens & Swords, 50 Word Stories and of course here at A Story in 100 Words.