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Weekly Contest #363
I stare and count the stars on my ceiling, even though I’ve counted a hundred times, and I already know the number. Mom says it’s pointless to waste my time counting things. I always seem to, even though it’s unintentional. I think she gets upset because I waste time in aisles in stores, focused on counting every kind of everything like I have all the time in the world. Mom says there’s hardly enough of it, and I think that’s why she drags me along. But I count the stars anyway, the groups of them falling down, down, down; kissing the wooden...
Weekly Contest #309
The room is unfamiliar. I don’t know how I got here. The floor is like hot coals on my blistering fingers. My breath is labored, becoming viciously apparent to me as the oxygen floods my lungs and so does the pain. Like sharp, metallic teeth, the agony bites down hard on every inch of my quaking limbs—and yet slowly, I lift my trembling and triumphant head. Staring back at me is a young woman. Her pale skin is cracking, dry, and caked with dirt or ash. Her mousy hair is stringy and hanging in her face. The strands billow as her breath exhaus...
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