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Weekly Contest #343
Her boys had curly, dark hair, like their father’s. The three of them had looked golden as they ran through the fields that day, the light of the setting sun reflecting off their perfect heads amidst the sound of their roaring laughter. She stood in the creek that flowed beside their home, holding the damp hem of her skirt in her hands, cooling her feet and catching her breath. Her smile was plastered so severely to her face, it was difficult for her to imagine how she’d ever frown again. Eli had always wanted sons; their names had once bee...
Weekly Contest #342
What are you doing? I’m watching them. Watching who? Come here. Look for yourself. They’re running. Yes, they are. What are they running from? Who said they were running away? Fleeing and seeking, it’s all the same. There is only one direction. I suppose that’s true. How can they see? They can’t. The woods are too thick. You put them there? Not exactly. The forest was always there for the each of them. I gave them each other, and they went in on their own. Together. Yes, together. It does not make sense. How is it that they are runnin...
Weekly Contest #341
Content Warning: While the content is not graphic and is handled with restraint, this story contains themes of trauma and implied sexual assault involving a minor. I remember that I’d been half asleep in my bed. Thirteen years old. I’d heard the beeping of the keypad on the front door as my sister, Jane, made her gentle entry. Fifteen years old. I had glanced at the clock on my nightstand, barely making out the time beneath the candy wrappers and soda cans. It was almost exactly nine on the dot, which was technically her curfew, but it did...
Weekly Contest #340
Warning: This product contains nicotine. Nicotine is an addictive chemical. The first thing I feel as the sunlight seeps through the blinds of our bedroom is the phone buzzing under my back. She slides it out from underneath me and, with her flawless, sleep-ridden coordination, she both silences the alarm and engulfs me in the gentle, warm embrace of her fingers. Desperately, after the long hiatus of nighttime, she draws me to her lips. There’s something sweet about her kisses, like wintergreen chapstick and the sick residue of love she’s ...
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