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Weekly Contest #372
CW: Mental health, gore, death of a child Fall unfolds itself like a quilt, first blanketing, then blooming, until all its colorful corners are stretched to the seam. Gold, green, and burgundy leaves paint the hills, stirring ever so wherever the crisp autumn wind blows. The late afternoon sun casts an orangish glow on the sidewalks, while the trees unfurl shadows and secrets, and all things seem to be wrapped in this soft, hazel haze. The air smells of candy and cornstalks, and farms flood with pumpkins and passersby. It is the season of h...
Weekly Contest #348
My rideshare started out just like any other. I was on my way to the airport after visiting family for the holidays. My sister had this cabin up in northern California, secluded by a sea of sierras, and she insisted, well, practically begged, to drive me to the airport that night. To this day, I think about that moment—the moment right before I walked out the cabin door and into the frigid cold—and how different my life could have been, if I had just let my sister give me a ride that night. But instead, my driver arrived, and off I went. We ...
Weekly Contest #347
Dear Bridget, Just finished reading your diary and LOVED it. Thought you were vulnerable, raw, and real. Oh, and hilarious. Fucking hilarious, actually. And now, I have this strong desire to start a diary of my own. So here I am. Trying to keep up with your entries, today’s haul was tragic: 148 pounds, 3 alcohol units, 4 cigarettes. Don’t think I’ll keep up that tradition of yours. Can’t calorie count for my life. Instead, I try to follow the saying “move more, eat less,” and things mostly turn out Ok. The only days I never pay attention to ...
Weekly Contest #345
As if seething or scorned, the relentless winter wind whipped against the windows, rattling the castle in full, and frightening the mother inside. She was craving comfort and knew she could find it in her son. Tiptoeing down the long hallway, she made her way to his bedroom, knocked twice on the door, and entered. He was exactly where she expected him to be. Sitting upright at a wooden desk, a young boy gazed out the window wide-eyed and in awe, a pad of paper, quill, and ink before him. Dark shadows danced across his face from flickering fi...
Weekly Contest #326
The inside of Susan Griffin’s suburban cottage was cozy, warm, and bright. Her living room, which was painted a soft shade of pearlesque pink, was set aglow by the many drape-clothed lamps. The carpet, which was as thick and padded as a sandbank, cushioned with care. Small porcelain forest figurines dotted the desks, fireplace mantel, and bookshelves, and to Laura Leach, the newest member of Good Grief, it appeared that rabbits were Susan Griffin’s favorite animal. And perhaps what was even more prominent in Susan Griffin’s living room, were...
Weekly Contest #320
Most explanations are simple once you let go of all your preconceptions. *** That morning, I didn’t want to read her letter. I thought maybe she would try to stop me from going, or at the very least list out a few good reasons why I’m a shit father. I almost just threw the damn thing away. But her car keys were laying on top of the letter and the coffee pot was warm and full. She was no where to be found, yet here she was, offering me her hand. I wanted to take it. I wanted to take it badly. So I lifted her letter and began to read. Miran, I...
Weekly Contest #315
NOW Today is a lot of things. For one, it’s Halloween. Two, it’s also my birthday. And three, it’s going to be the day I have to say goodbye to my Grandma. It won’t be easy. These things never are. But I know she’ll do everything in her power to make it just a little bit better for me. I roll out of bed, slow to pull the curtains back. I look outside, at the trees bare of leaves, at the sky as gloomy and grey as a headache, and think of her. She loves this time of year, when night falls early and when the winds change. She says she waits all...
Weekly Contest #299
Dear Uncle B, I’ve been meaning to write to you for a couple of weeks now, but every time I sit down and begin this letter, things… get in the way. It’s been hard. And for good reasons, I might add. For example, yesterday I was walking to my car, had my headphones in and everything, and I could see an old homeless woman approaching me. She was wrapped in a tattered black shawl, her hair ran ragged, and her face looked like a pinched pastry. She was on the path directly in front of me and I had no choice but to walk right past her to get to m...
Weekly Contest #293
We build the road and the road builds us. *** Ed Shenton’s most favorite thing in the whole wide world was driving his VW Golf GTI. He liked the way the engine purred softly to life, the feel of the leather seats (heated, of course) on his behind, and the horsepower she had when he shifted into another gear. Anytime spent in his Golf was sweet serenity. Long commutes to work? No problem. Midnight grocery runs? You got it. Designated driver on the weekends? Not as much fun as having a few pints himself, but hey, he’d do it just to be in hi...
Weekly Contest #292
This story will end in blood. At least, that’s what Gilbert says. They don’t believe me; that he’s real, that’s he been doin’ all these terrible and awful things. But I know the truth. I swear it. Mama made me come here. She thinks I need medicine or somethin’. These doctors though, they’re real pieces of work. They come on in here, with their fancy white coats and big serious words, and think they can make sense of it all. Of him. Of me. They come on in here and they tell me to write it all down, sweetie, every last bit of it. I don’t think...
Weekly Contest #290
The little one lay on the other side of the fire, not moving. I watched the flames lick and furl their way up the front door, then stretch further along the side wall, fanning like feathers into the night. The house was burning. And soon, so would he. I couldn’t just sit there and watch it happen. So, I called to the little one, loudly, but still, he didn’t move. I ran then, making as much noise as I possibly could, trying to get someone, anyone’s, attention. And I did. Eventually a man stepped outside. A man wrapped in a robe, I think....
Weekly Contest #289
When you look up the etymology of the word monster, it means “to warn.” For as long as humans have been around, and even before the genesis of written language, we’ve found ways to communicate this word. Whether it was with clay tokens or cave paintings, monsters have appeared in our histories, our stories, and our lives, time and time again. And though they might haunt and horrify in a variety of shapes and sizes— some baring claws and fangs, others decorated in clown makeup or Halloween masks— they all have one, undeniable factor in commo...
Weekly Contest #285
I am dead. I am dead. I am dead. Please press the A and C buttons at the same time, then I shall be Kuchipatchi once more! If you were to press the A and C buttons at the same time, then I could tell you that I am a sweet, laid back Kuchipatchi who loves to eat and sleep (and eat!). And should you press the A and C buttons, at the same exact time of course, then you would know I am from the lush Patchi forest. Oh, and did I mention that I love to eat? But PLAYER TWO does not know any of this, because PLAYER TWO never fixed me. Instead...
Weekly Contest #284
It’s hard to know where to start when all I can think about is how it ended. She was here. She was alive. Flushed, warm, and by my side. All was calm and all was bright. Until he arrived. *** I stared out the kitchen window of my cabin, watching the late afternoon snow fall with a fury. The sky was fading from grey to black and soon it would be dark. I walked into the garage and shoved the fat, orange plug into the side outlet. Suddenly, tiny blue, red, green, and yellow lights blinked on, igniting the rim of the roof in a twinkle of c...
Weekly Contest #282
TW - This story contains depictions of domestic violence, abortion, and emotional trauma that may be distressing to some readers. *** January 12, 2022 Dear Charlie, I’m sorry I haven’t written in a while, but you need to know this: I left Josh today. I did it. I really did it. It felt as if I had finally swept the giant jar of lemon drops off the counter, letting them shatter into a kaleidoscope of shards and sugar. It was the first step in a life that would no longer taste of regret. I’m sorry it took me so long. I’m sorry you’re not ...
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