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Weekly Contest #118
CW: Death. I kick my feet through the piles of dead, April leaves. They crunch under my feet, the crackling noise scratching an unreachable part of my wounded soul, offering a little relief. My friends have begun referring to me as hopeless. I bet Sean’s friends aren’t bartering for him to leave the house. No, he seemed plenty fine when he packed his bags, no warning and walked out of our engagement, our house, our life. Walked out on me. I huff and trudge further down the path, I’d only gone on this walk to escape my mother, who I had moved...
Weekly Contest #117
Everything was ready for the ritual. And there were what seemed like hundreds of people stuffed into my house. I stand on the front lawn my hand gripping a plastic cup as I stare at the front door. People were still arriving too, all dressed in costume, with varying degrees of effort put in. A body pushes past me and I shove back, the guy stumbles and looks back. “What the fuck bro?” he’s annoyed. “And what are you supposed to be a bitch?” he snarls as I frown at him. I chuckle at his choice of words; he’s pretty close. The rude man in the c...
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