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Submitted to Contest #293
**Based on true events** I watched Bozeman whirl beneath me as I took off from the airport. We climbed high, high into the early morning sky. My hands gripped the armrests so hard, my knuckles turned pale. I chewed on my bottom lip. Inside my chest, my heart raced. My anxiety always peaked during take off, I don’t know why. Landing is a breeze, no problem. But take off? It sends my mind soaring, racing through all the terrible things that could happen. Engine failure, being the most common one I worried about. The panic was a good dist...
Submitted to Contest #274
For as long as I can remember, I’ve been afraid of the dark. There's something about the quiet shadows that makes my heart race and my senses heighten, as if I'm preparing for something lurking just beyond my sight. Even as a child, I would lay in bed, staring wide-eyed into the darkness, listening for the slightest creak or murmur, afraid of what I couldn’t see. That fear followed me as I grew older, and though I've come to understand it better, the unknown depths of the dark still leave me unsettled. It's as if the darkness carries a weigh...
Submitted to Contest #272
There was one thing Miller knew for sure after his first day in his new house; His house had a ghost. He had bought this house on Rural Road #5 two weeks prior. It was a plain house with an open floor plan and its wooden panels outside painted an abysmal gray. It was a Cape-style house, his realtor told him. “Built in 1905 by a man named Ernie Betts. He was a fisherman, you see, and needed his house close to the bay.” The house sat on fifty-five acres of land outside of Hamlet, Maine in a little township called Doe’s Head. Miller thoug...
For as long as I can remember, there has been a persistent impulse within me, a feeling that pulses just beneath the surface of my consciousness. It’s difficult to articulate, but it carries a weight that feels both dark and ancient, as if it has been woven into the very fabric of my being. This sensation often surfaces in quiet moments, whispering secrets I can’t quite grasp, urging me to explore depths I’ve yet to fully understand. It feels primordial, echoing through the corridors of time, resonating with something deep within my soul. Th...
I find myself grappling with an unsettling question: how long have I been dead? It’s difficult to pinpoint the exact duration—was it years, perhaps even decades? Time feels strangely fluid in this liminal space, where moments blend together in a haze of memories and shadows. Each tick of the clock seems to echo in a void, leaving me to wonder about the life I once lived, the dreams I held dear, and the connections I cherished. The uncertainty lingers like a whisper, haunting and elusive, as I try to reconcile the fragments of my past with th...
Submitted to Contest #271
(TW: mentions of drugs) The town where I'd grown up had become a prison of sorts. Its limitations mirrored my own, as I struggled to envision a life beyond its boundaries. The weight of uncertainty pressed down on me, smothering my dreams. And I had once had big dreams. I wanted to be a star. An actress, a singer, a model-anything that would get me out of this bubble in some small, desolate region of Montana. But here I am, six years out of high school and working a dead end job at a grocery store. I get up every morning at five o’cloc...
I often find myself completely immersed in the pages of a book, a habit that has been a cornerstone of my life since childhood. From a young age, I discovered the transformative power of storytelling—each book a portal to another world, a refuge from the chaos that often surrounded me. My childhood was anything but serene; my home was marked by the constant clash of my parents' voices, filled with arguments that echoed through the walls like a never-ending storm. One parent struggled with alcohol, their laughter often replaced by silence and...
I moved to the bustling city, filled with bright lights and endless possibilities, driven by dreams that were larger than life. I envisioned myself gracing the illustrious stages of Broadway, captivating audiences with my performances and bringing Shakespeare’s timeless words to life with passion and depth. Each night, I imagined stepping into the spotlight, the applause washing over me, thrilled by being part of something extraordinary. I dreamt of becoming the next big sensation, a star whose name would be whispered in awe and admiration. ...
Submitted to Contest #270
The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the table set in the garden. Audrey and Liam sat across from each other, the remnants of their meal—a shared plate of risotto and a simple salad scattered between them. The clinking of silverware and the distant chirping of crickets filled the evening air, but the weight of the conversation ahead hung heavily between them. “Are you sure about this?” Liam asked, his brow furrowing as he leaned forward. “Once you make that decision, there’s no turning back.” Audrey took a deep breath, ...
(TW: mentions of miscarriages, cheating) They say that revenge is a dish best served cold, and I learned that the hard way the day I uncovered my husband’s betrayal. After fifteen years of marriage, I finally trusted my instincts. For months, I had felt the distance between us growing—his late nights at “work,” the hushed conversations that abruptly ended when I walked into the room, and his dwindling interest in me. When I checked his location, my heart dropped: he was headed to a house just around the corner. A house belonging to my best...
Submitted to Contest #269
I grew up Catholic—tall cathedrals, stained glass windows, incense wafting through the air, the whole nine yards. But over the years, my visits to church dwindled, and my belief in the teachings faded. I became apathetic, much to my mother’s dismay. She always knew I was the rebel of the family, the notoriously difficult child with tantrums and a headstrong spirit—typical middle child behavior. Despite this, growing up Catholic instilled some beautiful lessons in me. I learned the value of generosity, the importance of charity, and the wisdo...
Submitted to Contest #268
I’ve made a life killing monsters. It started when I was a cop in Fort Worth, my hometown. I had fallen in love with a woman whose husband had been beating her. I found out about it when she came to work (she was a waitress at a diner I frequented) and she had a black eye. “What happened, hon?” I asked. She just looked at me and smiled. “Oh, I bumped into a door.” I had heard that excuse before. I knew the truth of what happened to her. I was a good cop. Tough, lenient when I had to be, and I could spot a victim a mile away. After a fe...
They said that time heals all wounds. That’s what I’ve heard all my life. Now whether or not that's true, I have yet to find out. But last Thursday I decided to test the theory. My brother, Charlie, and I had a falling out. To make a long story short, I’m a drunk and so is he. But Charlie, he’s been recovering for sometime now. He goes to AA meetings, therapy, he’s patched things up with his wife-the whole nine yards. And he’s made good progress. He only has two beers on Saturday nights compared to downing a twelve pack. As for me, I h...
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