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Weekly Contest #361
The air in Cloverton tasted like salt, whipped by spindrifts into a spiderweb mist that clung to the town's bonnet roofs as softly and deeply as the ache that clings to the bones after a rainy day. Sometimes, the briny mist would coyly pad inside like a cat slinking in on velvet paws, through doors and kitchen windows left ajar to let the house exhale. For the better part of the year, the boulders jutting from the little coastal town’s beach would be stained a dark charcoal grey as the frigid wind tirelessly shovelled the sea onto the rocks ...
Weekly Contest #334
Once upon a time, there was a monster known as the Nibblekin. The children said the Nibblekin’s horns rose thick and crooked from its skull, ridged like old bark. Beneath them sat two enormous, glass-bright eyes. It was tall enough to cast a shadow on the moon, they said, but had talons thin enough to pass through keyholes. Truth be told, nobody really knew what it looked like. But it was fun to hold gnarled, sun-bleached branches to one’s head and play pretend. For the parents, the monster was little more than a scare to keep the little one...
Weekly Contest #288
When you’re young and world is still full of wonder and things to explore and places to be, and the prospect of a job has no relation to the drudgery of a nine to five…you expect your life will turn out remarkably well. Life, untouched by life. Preserved in resin. A marvel. One day, you’re playing with a teddy bear and having a tea party with all your dolls, and the next thing you know, you’re thirty-two. Divorced. Cities away from your parents’ home, looking at a skyline with no hope on the horizon, thirty thousand feet in the air. Wonderi...
Shortlisted for Contest #255 ⭐️
I think it had started to happen a long time back—bit by bit—but I only noticed it this morning. Gravity was dead. Like Queen Elizabeth. Both of them. Yesterday, it was just Anurag bhaiya’s little music box—a walnut cuboid with burnt-umber filigree on its corners, and a knob the size of my fingernail to play Christina Perri’s You Are My Sunshine—floating a few inches above his desk. Today, it was me. I woke up to find myself levitating. It wasn’t as fun as Miss Dua Lipa may have led you to believe. It felt more like demonic possession than a...
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