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Weekly Contest #372
He’ll understand. That’s what Russel Christian kept telling himself, as he sat in his dim-lit hotel room, staring at the handlebar telephone in front of him. A ridiculous teal thing that probably hadn’t been replaced since the early seventies. Maybe it doesn’t work. No, he had already thought of that, forcing the hotel concierge to call him from the lobby. She begrudgingly complied. A few minutes later, his room was filled with the phone’s grating ring. It had worked just fine then, why won’t it ring now. He checked his watch again. It...
Weekly Contest #341
Georgeanna practiced her speeches in the dark bedroom. Though she tried to peel her eyes away, she couldn’t help staring at the clock. Red numbers blinked sleep out of lidless eyes, as the minutes switched to zero. It was four o’clock. The eyes mocked her, and in frustration, she tried to pull wild, independent thoughts from her mind. Instead, her fist came free with yellow and grey strands sticking out from between her fingers. When Georgeanna finally looked away, she found herself already halfway through the speech. The dark room listene...
Weekly Contest #326
The man, who emerged from the Corner Lounge, was composed in irony. His attire, the mirror image of the profile picture on Esmond's phone. A suit, with matching tie and pocket square. The Corner Lounge, unlike the upscale name suggested, was no place for a man of such stature. This was a place for minors and pool sharks to get drunk and smoke inside, as if it were still the 1970s. Through his side mirror, Esmond saw the man turn toward the silver Prius. Although from surface appearance, the man did not seem to match his environment, Esmond s...
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