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Weekly Contest #346
CW: sexual content I arrive at The Bitter End. It’s desperate, and it’s dreary, here. But tonight it fits. Tonight, it’s inevitable. It’s dark paint and cracked brick and temporary plywood solutions. Its square monotony is broken only by moth trap sconces and neon letters flaming from aluminum plaques along a desert horizon edge— the B is uncertain, the B stammers. Beneath it I shift through turns of wet gravel on unsteady heels. I grip brass, release the handle’s corroded ridge— the door seals itself shut behind me. Rubber strips suction li...
Weekly Contest #306
9:48 AMI’m paralyzed. Excuse me? I’m paralyzed. What does that mean? It means I can’t move. It means that I’ve been standing in the same spot for the last 20 minutes. Aren’t you supposed to be working? That was indeed the plan. But now I’m paralyzed. No you’re not. I am! The creature has me cornered, and the fear is paralyzing. Jesus. Yes. Jesus. Though I don’t believe even He could help me now. Go work. I can’t move! I told you! Go work. This is serious babe! No. It isn’t. You don’t know. You aren’t here! You can’t see it. I c...
It took a few seconds to realize I was utterly and completely lost. The sun was not helping. The sun was behaving horribly; beaming too bright and being far too loud about it. The sun was literally screaming at me. It seared into the New York City sidewalks, encouraging the fetid scents of dried piss and stale garbage to waft offensively into the air; drove its intolerable rays into the sewer grates, inciting fumes to flow up from mysterious depths and bathe my nauseous belly, agitate my bruised guts, stir their bile to a frenzy. I swallowed...
Weekly Contest #271
This morning you wake with the taste of flesh in your mouth. Not muscle or ambiguous carnage, but flesh. Clean, bloodless. Thin shavings of skin that feel like they might get stuck between your teeth if you aren’t careful. You don’t think you like it. You can’t say that it’s a craving, it isn’t, not quite. You don’t want to eat the flesh, but rather, it’s as if you already have, and now it's stuck on your tongue. Like a song that replays and refuses to leave. You examine your bare arms for bite marks, nothing. You wrack your brain for new ex...
Weekly Contest #270
Unremarkable white men have caused me more trouble in my life than any other demographic by far. I do not believe this to be a particularly unique or novel perspective, just one that deserves a featured mention, and consistent repeating. Moving on. I work as a registered dietitian, a nutritionist, except with more degrees and qualifications. I work in a hospital, with walls of glass and views of the bay. Clean lines, polished floors, and technology that is always being swapped out for something new and shiny. My last stop for the day is...
Weekly Contest #266
Locals say that their island was raised for the artists and the dreamers. That the slow-paced nonchalance of their days gives way to nights of bright and boneless sleep. That their clean air, their forested labyrinths and lush bracken breed the inspiration for free thinking. The living etched from the tedium of their pebbled shores is scant and humble, but it grants the space to create. Their rhetoric is their anthem. A lighthouse amidst a chicanery of violent seas. A lilting promise that beckons those who have only ever watched f...
Weekly Contest #264
If there exists a more offensive fabric than tulle, I’m quite certain that I don’t know it. Have never known it, and absolutely do not care to know it. It’s a horrible, garish fabric, tulle. Gauzy and itchy and stifling. Condemning the wearer to a smothering cocoon of crumbled glass gritting against flesh. To the tongues of feral cats licking up the bare of my legs, all the way to the sensitive skin across my belly. And the rustling. My god the rustling. The rustling is incessant. Deafening and inescapable. The rustling seems to drown o...
Weekly Contest #263
(contains sensitive language, allusion to violence/sexual violence)Life had been kinder to Jason than he found pleasing. The years had floated by with an unhindered ease, and it irked him. No great tragedy had marred his adolescence, there had been no fire or famine to hamper his growth. He had been popular enough, smart enough, handsome enough. Naturally endowed with the appropriate appendage to most aptly navigate the world, and yet, he felt woefully deprived. Trapped amidst a late-thirties he found hopelessly wanting and wanting hopelessl...
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