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Weekly Contest #379
David walked proudly through his front door, holding a black-and-white cat he had found in the alley, a smile radiating across his face. “I found Miss Poppyseed,” he announced triumphantly. His family all raised their heads, their eyes scanning the scraggly feline. “That's not Poppyseed,” his son, Dan, said before returning his attention to his tablet. David lowered the creature and spun it around, holding its face inches from his own. The cat stared back at him, its eyes narrowed and its ears flattened, as though it already regretted coming...
Weekly Contest #376
Why the creature chooses to remove sick children from their homes will always remain a mystery. Hidden from the sight of comforting parents, it waits for fevers to spike, for voices to turn coarse, and when muscles are to weak. No one knows why the children are the only ones who can see it, and why they do not fear him is even more puzzling. For it has only one goal and one purpose. With a single grotesque green finger, thin and long, it appears between the blades of grass on lawns, from the calm waters of lakes, and in the far corners of di...
Weekly Contest #360
Zen carefully poked his head around the heavy velvet curtain and peered out into the auditorium. The sight made his stomach tighten. Every seat was occupied, leaving people lining the walls while others stood shoulder-to-shoulder in the aisles. There had to be at least a thousand people in attendance, all waiting for him. “How did it come to this?” he muttered under his breath. He stepped back, retreating into the shadows where the crowd couldn't see him. The chanting grew louder. “Zen! Zen! Zen!” The rhythmic roar rolled through the buil...
Weekly Contest #351
The squeaky wheel on Nurse Betty’s medicine cart always sent a chill down my spine. It indicated the beginning of another day trapped inside my own body, wanting to scream out, unable to. The noise intensified as it rounded the corner to my room. The bright fluorescent lights burst to life as she flicked the switch, me unable to shield my eyes, forced to tolerate the discomfort. I blinked several times, the white haziness slowly being replaced by this well-known space, which consisted of not much more than a dresser, a bed, and my wheelchair...
Weekly Contest #347
The High Elf toppled to the ground, his battle axe slipping from his grip. He attempted to stand, but with no strength left, he collapsed. “Why have you done this?” he asked, his voice strained. Pa’tom towered over his opponent, staring into the elf’s cold green eyes, his sword hovering just beyond his throat. “For the platold ore.” The High Elf shook his head weakly. “Stupid human, it’s not what you think.” Pa’tom ignored the threat, driving the tip of his steel blade deep into the elf's neck, green blood pouring out from both ends. The Hig...
Weekly Contest #343
I knew all the dangers of Fentanyl, which shocked me all the more that I tried it… And died. But before you judge me, I need to explain. I’ve always been a pretty awesome guy. No sad, feel-bad-for-me story here. My mom is encouraging; I had a green belt in karate, and my grades were a solid C+. So on my twenty-second birthday, when I overdosed on a well-known illegal street drug, I was surprised. But more on that later. I liked to drink—and I don’t mean tap water; alcohol. Lots of alcohol. Any chance to disconnect from reality was a welcome ...
Weekly Contest #339
I spat the bitter black liquid onto the carpet. “This is the worst coffee I’ve ever had.” The taste wouldn’t leave my tongue, clinging there. Doctor Teeter adjusted his glasses, ignoring me as he continued to write on his pad of paper. “Mmm.” Was his only response, as usual. This always infuriated me. I leaned back, hating the psychologist’s office. The design of this place aims to calm patients, yet it only angered me more. Fake green plants, paintings with soft pastel colors, and worst of all, he had me sitting on something which couldn’t ...
Weekly Contest #337
Daniel Rouge sat alone in his favorite recliner on his eighty-second birthday, holding a photo album his daughter Suzanne had gifted him. He had only turned a few pages to the year 1959, when a tear rolled down his cheek. The black-and-white photo showed him as a young man. Standing with his best friend, brother, and girlfriend. Him grinning as he stood tall on his new dirt bike. With arthritic hands, Daniel flipped a few pages to a photo of his brother and him just before their hockey tryouts in 1962. His knees had never recovered from year...
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