Unfinished Business

I returned from the dead, a list in my pocket: wrongs to right, pleasures to reclaim, truths to confess, sins to own. Mostly I needed to know how the world had fared without me. Apart from my poor mother, a grieving ghost of her former self, it was as if I’d never lived. Never loved. Never mattered. A stranger slept in my bed, alongside my darling wife, in my home, the one I’d slaved to pay for, my manicured garden now wildly overgrown. I fed the list to the fire. I’d start over from the very beginning, wherever that was.

From Guest Contributor Elizabeth Murphy

Chopping Along

Knife steadied, I proceeded to chop sweet pepper. Choppy chords of a Chopin prelude dominated the airwaves as the sound of an overhead chopper faded. “Anything else to add to our Chopin list? Sorry, couldn’t help it,” husband laughed. Lucky he’s not on my chopping block, I thought. “Don’t forget. Mother’s here for dinner tonight,” I said. Onions appeared next on my chopping board. “What are you making, Mom?” I turned around to answer: “Vegetarian Chop Suey.” “No lamb chops? That’s okay,” my boy surmised. “Don’t think grandma’s choppers can take anything tough. Does she know how to use chopsticks?

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna is a writer of poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. She resides in Edmonton, Canada with her husband and stuffed animals and many friends.

Wife's Helper

John flipped his wife’s shopping list and reached for the phone in his jacket. No charge.

He caught a nearby shopper.

“Excuse me, what are these,” he pointed to the list.

“Try the seafood counter,” was the reply.

Once there, John asked, “Do you have scal...?”

“Scallops?” the server interjected. “Half a pound? They’re pricey.”

John placed the package into his basket. “Where do I find this,” he showed the same man.

“Rubber scrapers in kitchen gadgets.”

“Thank you.”

When John arrived home, his wife unpacked the bags.

“I’m allergic to shellfish!” she shrilled. “Where are the scallionsand capers?”

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction.

Fresh Start

“That didn’t work, nor this,” Nancy said striking out rows on her list.

A friend called. “How’s the dieting going?”

“What dieting?” Nancy answered.

“I’ve started,” April said. “No carbs. Only healthy eating.”

Nancy sighed. “What’s the point? You’ll be packing on pounds at Valentine’s, then Easter. Why start now?”

“It’s a new year, Nancy. I’m overweight. So are you.”

“I’d rather be happily plump.”

“You still have time before the next new year if you start planning now. Chinese New Year starts on February 8th.”

“I love Chinese. Won’t see me starving at a Dim Sum.”

“Neither will I.”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.

Ashley Who?

My buddy George is sitting at the bar by himself, twiddling his wedding band. Often tempted to “kick over the traces,” he never succumbed to temptation.

“How long have you been married, George?”

“Long time. Dunno.”

“When crooks hacked the infamous adultery website, was your name on the list?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yep.”

“Well you must be the only male over 35 years of age in this town whose name isn’t on the list. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“I know.”

“I can tell you what the problem is George. You’ve been married too long.”

“Yeah. Too long.”

From Guest Contributor Barry O'Farrell

Barry is an actor who sometimes writes, living in Brisbane, Australia. Barry's stories can also be found at 101 Words, Cyclamens & Swords, 50 Word Stories and of course here at A Story In 100 Words.