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Weekly Contest #293
“Good morning, I believe that’s my seat.” Robert Keegan yanked an AirPod out of his ear and looked up at the elderly man standing in the middle aisle of the commercial airliner. He had no bags and was gesturing towards the window seat. A long line of passengers stretched to the front of the plane, their faces a mixed mosaic of excitement and anticipation, jet lag and travel fatigue. “What?” Keegan said a little harsher than he intended. “Oh yeah, the seat.” Keegan pulled his computer bag on to his lap and tried his best to fold into himself ...
Weekly Contest #207
When a lie becomes indistinguishable from the truth, is it really a lie? The lone man walked slowly down the snow-covered sidewalk, collar flipped up in a vain attempt to shield his neck and face from the blustering wind, hands stuffed in his pockets in a slightly more successful attempt to keep his fingers from freezing. The falling flakes were visible in the light cast by the street lamps placed at regular intervals along the road. They seemed to be lighting his path and his alone, not a soul was in sight. The usually bustling ci...
Weekly Contest #174
I hate car chases, thought the balaclava-clad man sitting behind the wheel of a rented BMW as he careened through the streets of Istanbul. The ancient city, bathed in the orange glow of the setting sun, passed by in a blur. Enzo Ricci white-knuckled the steering wheel as he darted between cars, vans, and trucks, occasionally swerving into oncoming traffic to keep pace with his target: a black Mercedes just a few cars ahead. He did not care what he had to do; the man driving that Mercedes would be dead before the sun had set. I...
Weekly Contest #123
All is fair in love and war. Love and war. Two of the most ancient of human endeavors inexplicably linked because of their essentiality to moving the human race forward. “Hold on, my mask is fogging up.”The man dressed entirely in black clipped the walkie-talkie he had been speaking into to the front of his vest and quickly removed his mask, wiping the clear visor with the sleeve of his shirt. “I’m good. Let’s move.”The man moved nimbly through the trees, finally bursting through a dead bush and coming to the edge of a cl...
One half of the sky was orange and the other half black. Hundreds of people—old and young, men and women—sat in a semi-circle, staring down at the eighteen youthful males engaged in a battle of wits, athleticism, and sheer will. They screamed, cheered, and booed as the eighteen fought for survival.Some of the young men stood on grass, some stood on dirt. Most wore hats, a few wore helmets. Half of them had gloves on, one of them held a wooden stick. What would happen within the next couple of minutes, on a diamond between two chalk...
Weekly Contest #85
Oswiecim, Poland - June 1944Not a cloud was in the bright blue June sky, but—ignoring the heat—one could easily mistake the ashes falling from above for a light snow. It was not snow, however. Snow was for happier times. Times of peace, hope, and joy.Death was falling from the sky. It covered the grass, the trees, and the walkways surrounding the stone building, tucked away in the north corner of the concentration camp. Death was in every step, every look, and every breath. One could not escape it.Within the barbed wire fences of the Auschwi...
Weekly Contest #74
For years, there had been talk. Goals set, dreams dreamt, aspirations left unachieved. Finally, after decades of research and hard work, it was time to begin the journey. Man would soon once again plant their boots on the virgin soil of another world. Or so they thought. Over fifty years ago, the world had watched as Apollo 11 blasted off on its mission to land mankind on the moon. Now, millions—perhaps, billions—around the world watched as the gleaming Starship rocket sat atop the historic launchpad 39A at NASA's Kennedy Space Center in...
Weekly Contest #69
In the year of COVID-19, what is there to be thankful for? The young college student alone in his temporary “isolation dorm” gloomily pondered that question. It was Thanksgiving, and Mark Hamels was in quarantine after testing positive with a mild case of COVID-19. Quarantine sucks, he thought. The original plan had been for him to make the four-and-a-half-hour drive from the University of Washington in Seattle to Spokane, where his family lived, and spend a couple of days with them. That plan had been derailed when he...
Weekly Contest #68
I cracked. After twenty-seven hours of near non-stop torture, I cracked, and the biggest secret of my life slowly slipped from between my lips. I was strapped to a chair in the middle of an empty, windowless room. A single lightbulb dangled from the ceiling and shed its harsh light upon me and my torturer who was preparing to rip the fingernail off of my right index finger. “Are you a member of the CIA?” Screamed the wild-eyed, bearded jihadist as the pliers he was clenching in his right hand began to rock back-and-forth, loosening the n...
Weekly Contest #67
“Oh, London is man’s town, there’s power in the airAnd Paris is a woman’s town, with flowers in her hair.”The man silently repeating the words to Henry Van Dyke’s ode to the comforts of home watched the Moscow skyline blur past from the backseat of the Volvo he was riding in. He didn’t even know the rest of the poem. Instead, he liked to conclude it with a stanza he had written himself: “And Moscow is killer’s town, where everything is fair.”The man twisting the Van Dyke poem had not been born a poet. He hadn’t been born a killer. Born in Ch...
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