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Weekly Contest #330
They sat in the dirt behind the house, seven small bodies arranged in a rough circle around the single wooden car. The toy had been handed down through cousins, its wheels held in place by nails that flashed silver beneath flaking yellow paint. Monday pushed it first, leaving a neat pair of tracks across the dry soil. Tuesday took it after him. Each child claimed their turn with the blunt certainty toddlers have, their movements clumsy, their breath loud with excitement. Wednesday watched from the far edge, hands idle on her knees. A mild gr...
Weekly Contest #329
I work on the twelfth floor of a glass building in the central city. Outside, the surface reflects people back at themselves. Inside, everything is sections and partitions. My cube is beige from every angle. I have worked here six months, long enough for the chair to remember my shape, not long enough for anyone to recall my surname without checking my email signature. I’m an account manager. Mostly that means shifting numbers and calming clients who think deadlines are emergencies. My life outside of work is quiet. My partner likes that I c...
Weekly Contest #281
The gift sat under the tree like a goddamn joke. Daniel hadn’t expected anything, not really. The last few months had been a string of increasingly petty fights, the final one a bitter, drawn-out thing that ended with Megan packing a suitcase and walking out. She said she needed space, but Daniel knew what it meant. She was done. He was a wreck, and he knew it. And yet, there it was—this box, wrapped in thick red paper, a festive bow tied haphazardly at the top, like some cruel prank. “From Megan,” it said, scrawled in hurried black marker....
Weekly Contest #221
It was the year 1942 and the world was engulfed in the turmoil of World War II. Sarah’s heart ached with worry as she listened to the crackling voices on the radio. Each broadcast brought news of battles, victories, and losses, but what mattered most to her was the hope of hearing about her husband, William, who had been deployed overseas. Here she sat in her London townhouse, listening in. [Sound of a vintage radio tuning in, followed by static. Then, a formal voice of a radio announcer is heard.] Radio Announcer: (Clears throat) Good e...
Weekly Contest #220
I was in the kitchen with my grandma Agnes. She was making muffins for breakfast. She said they were her special recipe, with blueberries and walnuts and a hint of lemon. She said they were good for the brain and the soul. She asked me to fetch the sugar from the pantry. I was a small child then, maybe six or seven years old. I liked helping her in the kitchen. She always made me feel important and loved. I went to the pantry and opened the door. I looked for the sugar on the shelf where it usually was. But instead of the sugar, there wa...
Weekly Contest #219
In the corners of the cold and foreboding stone cell he sat, Where memories and the shadows of a fractured psyche seamlessly blend and swell, In a world forgotten by time, devoid of sun or warming pat, Renfield lingered, a soul seemingly ensnared, but with an essence strangely free. Bound by the powerful force of the dark, a servant that no one could truly see, The stories those walls could tell, if they had voices to share their plea, A silent observer of Renfield’s madness, and the games of a bat, The walls around him whispered haunting ...
Weekly Contest #218
In the abyss of her disoriented consciousness, she awoke, ensnared within the confines of a steel chamber. The echoes of her own ragged breaths drilled through the air, her body trembling as she tried to recollect how she got here. Her hands grazed the slick walls, searching for any discernible clue, but she found nothing. The metallic surface beneath her fingertips remained as unforgiving as her fragmented memories. The taste of rust lingered in the air, the biting cold painful against her skin. She pressed onward, her bare feet tracing...
Weekly Contest #217
Andie had always been captivated by the fantastic supernatural tales surrounding the White House. The countless stories of spectral apparitions, eerie whispers, and poltergeistlian forces had bewitched her imagination for years. As a writer of macabre tales that dwelled in the darkest corners of the human psyche, she found herself irresistibly drawn to the heart of American power and history, hoping to catch but a glimpse of the other side. With invitation clutched in her trembling hand, she ventured into the ghoulish heart of the nation's c...
Weekly Contest #216
Through the dark woods, they fled, moonlight flickering like dying embers in the hope of racing hearts. Branches reached out like gnarled, skeletal fingers, tearing at their clothes, scratching their flesh as they sprinted, gasping for breath. The relentless pursuit of survival echoed in their ears, each ragged breath drawing them closer to the dilapidated cabin that loomed ahead, a sanctuary and a prison in one. Their footfalls pounded on the damp earth, almost in unison, the forest floor a mosaic of fallen leaves and tangled roots threat...
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