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Weekly Contest #336
When I was a kid, my favorite games were Pokemon. I played every iteration that the franchise released, getting new consoles just to make sure I would never miss a release. On the playground, my friends and I would run in circles brandishing rocks in our hands, calling out to our imaginary partners to swipe, jump and defend in intense battles, sweat drenching our hair and clothes in the Georgia humidity. Reasonably speaking, I always knew that Pokemon didn’t exist. But as a kid, one with a fierce imagination that often held my brain in its p...
Weekly Contest #335
TW: Animal mutilation and death A splinter lodged itself in my finger as I ran my hand over the rough wooden box that had appeared on my porch. The pain gave me a small jump, but I was too focused on the contraption in front of me to even bother trying to get it out. From a mere glance one could tell it was homemade - there were gaps and wooden overhangs in each of the corners from misaligned boards, and the wood itself had to have been gathered from leftover scraps. It was rough and looked like it was close to rotting. I looked up from my i...
Weekly Contest #332
Pain reverberated through my fist as it collided again and again against the doors of the Northern Ice Palace. Its nickname was accurate if not creative; the imposing structure towered over the land, supposedly housing the power that protected locals from the true extremes of winter within its ice-coated exterior. I stood alone facing the front entrance, my raps mirroring the begging words that plagued my mind: words that I wished I could scream into the faces of the gods themselves. Help. Please. Your protection over us is fading. We need ...
TW: Suicidal ideation, alcohol abuse Droplets ran in tiny rivulets down my face as I collapsed with a small splash onto the creaky wooden bench. My entire body had been soaked for at least an hour; by this point, I almost felt that it would be weirder for me not to catch hypothermia. The pattering around me rose and fell with the wind, sending waves of rain one moment and a more steady drip seconds later. Through it all, I didn’t move from that spot. I just put my head into my hands, and let the droplets mix with my own salty tears. I knew...
Weekly Contest #324
TW: Nuclear war setting, depression, alcoholism Morgan’s brain pounded against her skull, an au-natural morning alarm gifted to her by the bottle of vodka that now sat empty beside her bed. She winced as she pushed herself into a sitting position, letting the covers fall back from her shoulders and pool around her waist. No thoughts existed to cloud her judgement or foster the depression she drank to deal with. Instead, her head was blissfully painful, throbbing just enough to block out anything and everything else. She leaned over and retc...
Weekly Contest #323
The pentagram carved into the side of Amber’s neck began to glow as she spoke the first words of the summoning. The inky black of her still-fresh tattoo gained a reddish hue, infused with heat and energy, but she only paid enough attention to the change to verify that the magic she was speaking into existence was indeed traveling through her. She had needed a portable anchor point, and so far had been pleased with the result of becoming one herself. It meant that she could cast even the most complicated spells and rituals outside of her labo...
Weekly Contest #319
I screamed. The air expelling from my lungs was a mixture of my anger and scorn and pain and defeat. Tears had been free-flowing down my face for a solid hour. I hadn’t been able to do anything else. I was stuck here, in limbo with my thoughts and I hated it, I hated it, I hated it… I stopped my spiraling thoughts and tried to catch my breath. My chest ached and I couldn’t tell if it was from my voice growing hoarse or from the mental pain or if I was just getting sick. I felt like shit. How could this idiot not see what he was doing to me. ...
Weekly Contest #318
TW: Pain, Body Horror, mild language Okay, I always heard that getting a tattoo would hurt. I totally thought I was ready for the series of pricks that would make up that first line. I was not. And I was a complete baby about it. My tattoo artist grimaced as she attempted to brace my arm and stop it from shaking like a leaf. I was sniffling constantly, my nose more of a loose faucet than the olfactory device it was made to be. The woman had stopped speaking to me, the slight conversation we had upheld while placing the stencil getting tossed...
Weekly Contest #317
The densely-packed streets of New York City offered no room for casual walking. There was barely space for breathing. Eris fought her way through the hoards of pedestrian tourists, dodging elbows and children as people stopped to gawk at the same trinkets that littered each little uniform storefront. She never understood the draw of t-shirts with a simple place name on them nor shot glass collections that wasted away in the cabinets of older generations. These days, she didn’t understand much of temporary, small joys whatsoever. After years ...
Weekly Contest #313
“Close your eyes, Amy!” Maria watched as her twin sister grinned, closed her eyes, and then spun around 180 degrees for good measure. The girls’ youthful energy was infectious; everyone loved to see them giggle on the path to their parents’ garden where they went daily after school. You could hear them coming from across town, their footfalls erratic as they chased each other. Their voices would rise with excitement as they grew tired and less controlled minute by minute in the afternoon air. Today, they had paused beside a fountain just out...
Burnt. Achinglingly bitter, the kind of taste that makes your tongue shrivel in on itself. With a raw and spoiled element that was reminiscent of curdled milk slathered over viscera and exposed to heat. To say that the taste was awful was an understatement. Putrid was a better word to describe the blood as it left the decaying body of the mausoleum’s corpse and flowed past Aiden’s pointed fangs and down his throat. He breathed in from his nose to keep from retching, for his own body was so weak that the act of merely leaning over this sarcop...
Weekly Contest #311
Hell burned in a way that was expected and completely foreign all at once. It was not the fiery heat that had been imagined in many of the stories from Earth, but instead it was a bone-chilling cold that swept through the senses like breathing dry ice. It made extremities ache and organs shrink. Every movement, every thought, was that much more difficult than they would have been considered in life. Despite it all, shallow breaths managed to escape from Mia’s open mouth, and she could sense thoughts, her own thoughts, still present in her mi...
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