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Weekly Contest #370
The alarm screams at the top of its lungs, its fat red body jiggling along the table until it topples over. It announces the first day of spring and apart from the birds chirping and wind chimes clinking, a grumble sounds inside the bedroom. From beneath the butterfly quilt cover, black hair sprawls into a matted ball. A pale hand extends out to grab the alarm clock, thumping it against the mattress.“Clementine, stop that, it’s driving me mad!” Hank whines.She draws the covers over her head, with a moan.Hank opens his mouth and yells again, ...
Weekly Contest #369
“I regret marrying you,” Vienna sighs. This time it’s different, there’s no tears or that high-pitched crying voice. She just says it, how it is. She leans back into the chair and crosses her legs from beneath the marble table. Before her is a plate of crispy skinned salmon, cold as the day it was caught. She twirls the beads of black caviar with a spoon. The Chanel rouge lipstick creases as she puckers her lips in thought.On the opposite end of the table, Harrison shovels another mouthful of fish. The pink flakes glue to the corner of ...
After thousands of encounters, it gets easier but the gift giving never does. Standing in the corner of the room is Grimley, dressed in a silver cloak with the hood drawn over his face. The satchel by his side is colluded with gifts. Each of them boxed in silver wrapping and sealed with a white bow. The bag is heavy beyond human strength and weighs a different amount with each visit. The lights are dim but the observation machines whir with beeps and the monitors shine with electronic tracers. This time, the room is filled with a small ...
Weekly Contest #368
It’s all a facade - the tinsel and plastic bells, mistletoe, turkey roasts, which never smell appealing. People wear the same red-and-white fuzzy hats, as if it’s a fashion statement, fabricated on their own accord. Songs of cheer blare over the speaker phones and everyone chants along to it from their cars. Their heads bobbing with glee and all their teeth are visible from the enlarged smiles. Astro rolls his eyes and tucks his hands into the pockets of the commando jacket. The badge reads A. Ridgey, supposedly it was his fathers, whom he c...
The moon is strung up by a rope and sways like a balloon. It would lift into the abyss if the thread severs. Old as time, the moon is crusted with age and fragility. The crescent compartments are joined with sticky moon dust but even that cannot withstand the power of time. From the adjacent World Clock Lookout, Laurent watches the crescent light glitter across the sky. His webbed hands are balled into fists, from which his head rests atop. Fuzzy antennas from his forehead buzz with heat as time creeps up. He returns his gaze back to his wor...
Weekly Contest #367
I am going to die on the 7th June, 1917, at 16:13. That’s today. I check my watch, 1 hour remains. It’s not a big deal, really. We are all going to see the fading light but just don’t have the privilege of knowing when. I am one of the lucky ones, I’m choosing my death date. It even brings a smile to my face. I sink my feet into the soil, as green weeds twine between my toes. A petite spider crawls across my foot and temporarily becomes entrapped in between the dense hairs. With a nudge, the creature is freed. My feet are the last-remaining ...
Weekly Contest #366
The blush peonies were arranged in such a way, as to watch over the baked loaves of bread. Their petals splayed out and their pollinated scent caused sneezing havoc in the bakery. But Wendy adorned the view and it made the mundane task of bread-making a pleasure. Locks of blonde hair hung by her shoulders and freckles dotted her nose. At only twenty-seven, she was Sicily’s most well-known baker.By her side was her twin Dalia, who also shared the same passion for baking. The sisters worked beneath the Sicilian heat, trying to ignore the peste...
Weekly Contest #365
The city is wrapped in eternal layers of woolen coats that brace against the August winds but I have not felt winter against my skin for over ten years. The colder months are like a weighted blanket that sweep through the concrete buildings and entrap city folk inside the wind tunnels. I only know this from the times that I made the daily office commute. Braving the winter was something I despised and now only dream of. Any life beyond the confines of this cage is worth living. My hands clasp the metal railing as I watch the fragments of the...
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