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Weekly Contest #344
“All systems nominal.” Neil settled into his chair as he turned to glance at Buzz. They were getting ready to be the first people to set foot on the moon—July 16th, 1969, the day that would be remembered in history.But the three days in between hadn't been empty.As the Earth shrank into a marble behind them, the reflections in the Columbia’s triple-paned windows began to change. It started as a smudge—a gray, translucent shape that Neil initially thought was a fingerprint on the glass. He reached out to wipe it, but his fingers met cold, smo...
Weekly Contest #343
This was the 300th time I’d woken up on September 25th. Yesterday, it was Mark that I had my third date with. Before him, Steven. After every third date, there’s a blinding white light, a loud buzz in my ear like a dying speaker, and then—boom—back to the start. At first, I thought it was amnesia. Then I noticed the patterns. The guy in the red shirt always drops his coffee when I go to the shop. The woman in the blue dress always orders an iced vanilla chai right after me. The only thing that ever changes is the man across the table on the ...
Weekly Contest #342
The echo in the apartment was the loudest thing about it. It was a hollow, mocking sound that followed me from the kitchen to the bedroom, bouncing off the bare white walls. Every footstep on the hardwood sounded like a question I didn’t have the answer to. I had lived here for three years, yet as I looked at the stack of brown boxes, the space felt as anonymous as a hotel room.Spain was eighteen hours and a world away. My passport sat on the kitchen counter, a blue leather promise of a life where the air didn't feel so heavy. Yet, as I tape...
Weekly Contest #341
The surface of Lake Michigan didn’t just reflect the sun; it vibrated with it. Each ripple caught the light in a rhythmic, golden pulse—a visual heartbeat. To anyone else, it was a beautiful Tuesday afternoon. To me, that glimmer was the exact frequency of his laugh. It was the way his eyes crinkled in our fourteenth life when we owned that small vineyard in Tuscany, and the way he looked at me across a smoky tavern in our third.We have spent twenty-five lives together. We’ve been paupers and poets, soldiers and silk-weavers. In every iterat...
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