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Weekly Contest #125
I wish I could tell you everybody took it the same way. It would certainly make for a neater story, but, unfortunately, it wouldn’t be true, not in the slightest. See, as much as we would sometimes prefer to deny it, each and every single one of us is different, and to pretend that the humankind’s reaction to all the world’s clocks having stopped out of the blue was in any way organized, or even unanimous, would be as artificial an invention as the idea of letting one’s life be ruled by clocks in itself was. No, in reality, it was much ...
Weekly Contest #123
“Okay, okay, okay. How do I put this, how do I – this world, am I right? I am right, I am. Though you must think me far from sane, pacing like this right in front of you, of that I’m certain as well, but I can’t very well help it, because there’s so much I need to – okay, okay, okay, so. I should probably start again, shouldn’t I? I should. I will. You know how sometimes the light hits a tiniest bit different than usual, maybe it’s just rained, and the grass has sud...
Weekly Contest #122
It was not its sudden appearance that she found the most suspicious. No. It was the name that was written on the box, which otherwise was quite bare, lacking in the usual stamps, stickers, and obscure signs, maybe even the occasional QR code (and this lack was particularly glaring in comparison to all those other packages that she hoarded throughout the week). But even the absence of a sender’s address did not startle her as radically as that name did. Elle N. There was no last name, no Nichols, just these two words (or, perhaps, a word and ...
Weekly Contest #120
Reverberations of Loss You showed up again yesterday. In my dreams, I mean. You still do that from time to time, I can’t very well fight it and I’m not sure I want to, anyway. More likely, I don’t. I don’t, because yesterday I begged you to stay. I begged you to stay, but you just smiled with that soft tilt of your lips that didn’t change a bit from when you were five years old, and I woke up. I would like to think that you are still so much a part of me that you...
Weekly Contest #119
“Listen,” she said, her eyes squinted and her voice the only thing that I cared to hear. Like liquified cinnamon dripping softly into warm hazelnut milk it was, smooth but undeniable, solid. Too specific? Well, she was specific. Unmatched, really. There was a scintillating peculiarity to the way she blinked and to the way she laughed. And she laughed a lot and often – at times laughter burst out of her in unexpected eruptions, but contrary to everyone else I then knew, she made no effort whatsoever to hold it back, to subdue it. She made no ...
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