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Weekly Contest #99
It is the last time we’ll see the sun for 41 days. We watch it dip below the horizon as we string coloured glass beads to hang in the windows. These are our guardians during the long dark. My little sister whimpers on the bed and I scoop her into a cuddle. She asks when the wolves will come. My mother tells us stories of before the wolves, when the long dark was just cold and sunless, but survivable outside our huts. They used to light the paths with candles sheltered within jars and pushed into the snow to keep them upright. She told us t...
Weekly Contest #53
Toby Peterson is 9 years old and thinks life is utterly unfair; he is a middle child and constantly being forgotten. Right now, for instance, his dad is holding the popsicle Toby had to plead and beg him to buy just out of reach. Toby can already see it starting to melt, the top layer glistening in the sun as it slowly slides down the stick onto his dad’s hand. If he can’t get to it soon, there’ll be nothing left. This isn’t the worst time he’s been forgotten (the time they left him on a ferry comes to mind), but right now it feels like the ...
Weekly Contest #52
We slid the Christmas presents across the lunch table like a hostage exchange, pushing them through the no man’s land of salt and pepper shakers and trembling condiments into enemy territory. My mother glided a manicured nail between the tape and the wrapping paper and pried an end open. She slipped the contents into her hand, leaving the paper almost undisturbed except for the one surgical wound at the end. The book was off her wish list, but even so, she gave a taught-lipped smile as she said her thank you. I looked down at the pack...
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