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I ate too quickly to notice the blandness of the soup until it was almost gone. After many hours in this dank cell, its warmth was soothing. If my captors troubled themselves to feed me, they wanted me alive—at least for now.
When the food was gone, I examined the implements. The tray, the bowl, and the blunt, shallow spoon were all made of the same hard, smooth polymer. I leaned the spoon against the edge of the overturned tray and pressed my weight on it, but it wouldn’t break. Nothing to serve as a tool or weapon here.
Note: See But Wait! There’s More…. for an explanation of the 100 Words project. Read the previous installment or the next one.
© 2008 Edward F. Gumnick
A loud click from the collar signaled the end of the conversation. As I pulled myself up to sit with my back against the outer wall, I noticed something new on the other side of the room. On the floor directly opposite the window, near the base of the wall, lay a tray of food. I rose to my feet and staggered over to examine it.
The plastic cafeteria tray held a bowl of thick, steaming soup and a chunk of bread torn from a rustic loaf. I was starving and in no position to worry about poison or drugs.
Note: See But Wait! There’s More…. for an explanation of the 100 Words project. Read the previous installment or the next one.
© 2008 Edward F. Gumnick
I don’t know a whole lot about my lineage. It seems safe to say that my family didn’t come over on the Mayflower, or I would probably have heard about it, right? From the little information we have, it’s more likely that most of my ancestors came to the New World much more recently, in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. On an encouraging note, that means my family is probably off the hook for ever having owned any African slaves. I’m told that my niece and nephew, however, are related by way of my brother-in-law’s family to Jefferson Davis. But that’s their karmic burden to work out. As for us Gumnicks, it’s more probable that our ancestors were somebody else’s slaves—or “serfs,” as they were called back when European white people owned …more
Five False Starts
“We never ask for the things we need the most.” I don’t know if I agree with that statement, so what am I going to do with it? If we’re in touch with who we are, we do ask for the things we need the most. But I guess a lot of people go through life without asking. Who is this “we”?
—
“We never ask for the things we need the most,” she said to me.
“What do you mean by that?” I said.
“I mean, we say we want independence, but what we want is financial security. We say we want justice, but we’d …more
A calm, flat voice behind me said, “Good evening, Doctor Conrad.” I turned to look for the speaker, but saw the same gray walls.
“I must ask you not to cry out. We’d prefer not to punish you further. In any case, no one can hear you.” The sound seemed to originate from the device clamped around my neck.
“Who are you?” I tried to control my shaking. “Why have you brought me here?”
“If you cooperate, you will not be harmed,” he said.
“Why should I believe you?” I asked.
“You may believe whatever you choose,” said the voice.
Note: See But Wait! There’s More…. for an explanation of the 100 Words project. Read the previous installment or the next one.
© 2008 Edward F. Gumnick
I showed up for my appointment at four o’clock. They kept me in the waiting room a little longer than usual. My favorite nurse looked apprehensive when she came to escort me back to an examining room.
“Mr. Raymond, I’ll need you to strip down to your underwear and put on this gown,” she said. She made no eye contact.
“What’s with the ‘Mister Raymond,’ Jennifer? I thought we were on a first-name basis.”
“I’m sorry, Mister— I’m sorry, Jack,” she said. “I have a lot …more
The sound of an engine jolted me from my reverie. I scrambled to my feet and stood beneath the window, but the concrete walls scattered the noise. I could determine nothing useful about the direction of the source, only that it was approaching. The vehicle screeched to a stop. Two doors opened and closed in quick succession, then a third.
I shouted, “Please, can anyone hear me?” In an instant, I doubled over. Waves of pain radiated from my throat and echoed in every muscle fiber. I lay panting on the floor, clutching the hard metal collar around my neck.
Note: See But Wait! There’s More…. for an explanation of the 100 Words project. Read the previous installment or the next one.
© 2008 Edward F. Gumnick
But the handwriting was not that of my ex-wife. Furthermore, Paola and I were married on a September evening, and she departed before we’d made it through four summers together.
What kind of joke was this? I closed the book and examined its cover. No title—indeed, no printing of any kind on the outside. I opened it again and turned leaves until I found the title page, which identified it as an early German edition of Heisenberg’s The Physical Principles of the Quantum Theory. Thirteen years ago, this book started me down the unexpected path to my present project.
Note: See But Wait! There’s More…. for an explanation of the 100 Words project. Read the previous installment or the next one.
© 2008 Edward F. Gumnick
I considered that perhaps Anyssa had left it behind. But that couldn’t be the case; I had seen her step from the taxi carrying only a black umbrella and a tiny red patent leather clutch. I felt uneasy, wondering what eyes might be watching me. I didn’t wish to make myself more conspicuous to any diners who might not have witnessed our raised voices. So I returned to my seat, reached for the book, slid it toward me, and opened the cover. The handwritten inscription read:
March 16th
On the occasion of our fourth
wedding anniversary.
With my love.
Paola
Note: See But Wait! There’s More…. for an explanation of the 100 Words project. Read the previous installment or the next one.
© 2008 Edward F. Gumnick
Breakfast at Sunrise
“I can’t set foot in the place,” Milla said. “I don’t think I ever will again.”
I was only trying to make small talk when I had asked her about the Sunrise Cafe, the tawdry-looking diner across the street from where we sat sipping lattes at the Golden Spoon. I was waiting for the waitress to bring me a cheese danish. Milla was avoiding carbs today, so she hadn’t ordered anything but the coffee.
“Everything in my entire life since that moment has been colored by what happened there,” she told me. She shifted in her seat and stared into …more
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