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Write a story about someone who’s running out of time.

Posted in Angst on Nov 1, 2024

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✍️ 44 stories

The Old Well

Submitted to Contest #275

It’s a late summer day, now. Spiders die and are carried off, and the sun is stirred by breezes from the south, and the oak leaves begin to look downward, tired and bleached. The squirrels know no statelier or longer days than these here, and run through the afternoon accompanied by mournful robins whose feathers are always a little duller each passing year.  And yet the window does not change; it never does. Through it she can see the old well, the rounded limestones flaked with age and the ever-present steam rising from wherein the wa...

76 likes 38 comments 38
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A witch's guide to magic in a hurry

Shortlisted for Contest #275 ⭐️

I checked my phone again.  12:13.  Shit.   I was twenty minutes away from home, twenty-five if I was being realistic. Not good. I was going to run out of time.   For fuck’s sake.   The twitch in my right eye that had been bugging me all day was constant now, locking me in a permanent squint. Even worse, my stomach was starting to gurgle, and I could feel myself starting to bloat.   I had spent the last thirty-six hours at Izzy’s because her ‘boyfriend’, Dan, had told her that he couldn’t see her that weeken...

35 likes 10 comments 10
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Judgement Day

Submitted to Contest #275

Sitting in the waiting room was nothing like I expected. Then again, I’m not sure what I had imagined. I had never experienced anything like this before. The room was bright, and the seating was comfortable, but it was stark. No pictures, no reading material, not even a clock. The sign over the entry door was marked “Waiting Room.” There was no reception area. The only other door was at the far end of the room. That door had a sign saying, “No Entry.”  There was one more sign over the large mirror, and it d...

30 likes 15 comments 15
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Running out of Thyme

Submitted to Contest #275

Who visits on a Sunday evening? I have work tomorrow, and the last thing I want is to spend time with people who likely hate me during the hours when I contemplate my purpose the most. I slice the carrots with the precision of a samurai, and with each cut, I make sure to land hard on the wooden board so she can sense my frustration.“When you’re done acting like a child, bring me some flour, and I will deal with the cake.” says the love of my life, my current enemy.“Anything else?” I reply, letting out a sigh of visible inconvenience. She dro...

27 likes 7 comments 7
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Lala's lust for Life

Submitted to Contest #275

Google doesn't understand how to help me. I don't understand either. I have three days left to live.   In the dim room, I stare at the remnants of an extravagant dinner. The wine glasses, clinging like tired lovers, are empty. I, too, feel emptied. Tears streak my foundation, blending with the scent of sweat and vanilla. I’ve bitten my lips bloody; a third cigarette smolders in the ashtray. Yesterday, I met His Highness. No, I’m not crazy. But at that moment, I seriously considered calling my psychiatrist friend. Yet, He — my drive...

22 likes 11 comments 11
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Ticking Timebomb

Submitted to Contest #275

CW: This piece contains some swearing and sort of sensitive topics. Viewer discretion advisedIt’s 44 minutes to the deadline, yet I’m staring at a blank screen.A week to write a story and yet I’m here with 44 minutes and nothing to show for it— I barely decided on a prompt, nor the direction the story would go.But it’s not all my fault, is it? All I did this past week was run around— rehearsals on Monday and Tuesday, two clubs and a sectional on Wednesday, rehearsal and truck loading on Thursday, and a football game on Friday with a competit...

20 likes 12 comments 12
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La Mort des Apparences (The Death of Appearances)

Submitted to Contest #275

“I feel like I’m running out of time,” Jacques said with the utmost conviction, concern etched across his brow. “How can you say that, Jacques? You and I have plenty of time,” Zelda, his fiancé responded as she reached to touch his arm. Lovingly, she caressed his forearm in an attempt to assure his despondency was from nothing more than the gloomy, rainy weather filling the Parisian streets. “We have plenty of time to do all the things you want, dear. In a month, we’ll be married. We are young and on the precipice of so many possibilities, s...

18 likes 2 comments 2
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David Summer and the Panel of Death

Submitted to Contest #275

David Summer was a good man. He wore round spectacles and his few tufts of white hair always stood on his head, bestowing him a sweet old-age appearance, although he wasn’t quite as old as many thought. He had broad shoulders and stood at five feet six inches tall while his wife, Regina Summer, was slightly shorter. The two of them had a daughter as sweet as nectar, so the parents leaned towards an acceptable flower name—Lily. David went to work every day for the past thirty years and changed companies only twice. His family didn’t know what...

18 likes 11 comments 11
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One Year to Saturn

Submitted to Contest #275

Yes, one year to Saturn - that was the theory, at least. Humanity's first solo mission to the ringed planet, carefully planned down to the last detail. But barely six hours into the mission, just as I passed Moon's orbit, this massive - and I mean massive beyond any human scale of measurement - alien ship, its hull stretching across what must be thousands and thousands of kilometers, as if these units even matter at this terrifying scale - barely missed my vessel, sending me spinning through violent turbulence. You know, all those decades of...

17 likes 4 comments 4
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Barren Fields

Submitted to Contest #275

Content warning: The following story has implied physical abuse. It also contains mentions of death and of a sacrifice.Soap, water, scrub, repeat; soap, water, scrub, repeat; soap, water, scrub thirteen times you wash. Thirteen times we scrub our hands clean before we enter the church. In the name of the Son the Father the Holy Ghost. Three times we make the cross with the holy water; three times we watch as those behind us mutter curses under their breath as we take too long at the church door. Not the left side or the back, can’t be t...

17 likes 3 comments 3
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Cyclists

Submitted to Contest #275

"... the cure for loneliness is a relationship with an AI..." His voice made it hard to judge whether he was serious or joking. So, you smile, then nod, then change the subject.  Not that it was a dreary day, being outside for a walk. It was just enough of everything already. Clearing cobwebs and calculating how to get through the day made us survivors, the latest company layoffs be damned! Maybe that was why a city block away, I could smell Montreal smoked meat on rye, oozing tender slippery beef, overflowing on bread ro...

16 likes 6 comments 6
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Countdown

Submitted to Contest #275

The digital display reads 05:49:02. Blue glowing numbers blink back at me in the deafening quiet of the abandoned Control Room Alpha. The high-tech room looks as if everyone stepped out for lunch, chairs neatly pushed in and papers waiting on desks for people who will never read them. It isn't until you look closer and notice the fine layer of dust covering almost every surface that you would know longer than a few minutes has passed. 157 years ago, I doubt anyone thought this day would come. Everyone filed neatly into the sterile halls, fie...

15 likes 4 comments 4
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Just Missed You…

Submitted to Contest #275

“It’s here!” Joey thought, the words pounding in his head. His heart raced as he ran his fingers over the smooth envelope in his hand. The paper felt thicker than anything he’d ever touched, high quality. Serious. Just holding it made his fingers itch, like it was burning his skin with everything it held.Joey took a shaky breath and tried to tear the envelope open carefully, but his fingers slipped, fumbling at the seam. The more he tried to pull it apart gently, the more his hands shook, until he finally ripped it open, paper tearing in one...

15 likes 2 comments 2
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Shattered Promise

Submitted to Contest #275

“Ok, ready? 3, 2, 1… go!” I zoom off, trying to find the perfect spot. “90, 89, 88,” I hear my sister calling. I ran up the stairs and looked into my parents’ room. Should I hide under the bed? No, she’d find me too quickly. Oh, what about in the bathroom? No, it's almost all glass. “50, 49, 48.” I start thinking I'm not going to find a spot in time until I remember the woods. “39, 38, 37," I run down the stairs as quietly as I can and sprint out the doors. I see a little flash of black and see a little black cat walking by the entrance to t...

12 likes 1 comment 1
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The Hourglass Woman

Submitted to Contest #275

Content Warning: Strong Language, Allusions to Sex Women have called me many names, much of them said with no fondness. The long list runs through my mind, different voices echoing in a raucous, enraged chorus. Asshole. Bum. Manwhore. Scum. Cheater. Jerk. Along with the frenzied, angered chanting, come flashes of women’s faces. They’re all beautiful faces marred with hideous emotion. Some, eyebrows scrunched and teeth barred like wild animals, wave frantically or jab fingers into my chest. Appealing faces contorted with fury. On some of them...

12 likes 2 comments 2
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