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Weekly Contest #246
The Kia Forte rolled to a stop on the unlit Basin Street, just south of St. Louis Cemetery No. 1. Four figures emerged from the vehicle beside the graveyard's whitewashed brick wall, its surface reflecting the eerie glow of the waning moon.Dominique Tran's sister Lela, an enthusiastic first time visitor to New Orleans, had concocted the idea. They were to infiltrate the cemetery under the cover of darkness, each entering from a different side, in a race to locate the tomb of Marie Laveau, the 19th-century voodoo queen of New Orleans. The win...
Weekly Contest #231
It was the furthest north they had ever been. Far from the Josefov Ghetto of Prague where a golem could receive the daily blessing from a rabbi required to sustain the soundness of the materials and ethos which makes up his body. Sela, who had no such benediction for three days, started to notice the crumbling of his toes and cracking on his ears. “There.” Barzel pointed to a gloomy silhouette of a lowhung roof under which faint yellow reluctantly shone through the windows. She wrapped her hand around Sela’s thick fingers and led him...
Weekly Contest #227
This story is a prequel to my previous submissions, The Night Gathering and Metamorphoses, taken place seventeen years prior.********A droplet from the overhead condenser fell on the nape of Stephanie Nguyen’s neck, leaving a frosty trail down her shoulder blade while streaking toward the small of her back, reminding her that the walk-in freezer she was hiding in was absorbing moisture through the door left ajar, and frost would soon build up on the food, shelves, her clothes, and eyeglasses. An even worse prospect was the temperature alarm,...
Weekly Contest #226
This story can also be read as the continuation of my previous submission Metamorphosis************Unlike most of the helipads which are built for show but never used, the pads on Tycho Brahe’s 400 feet yacht Sita Faustina get frequent usage. Two were built, one on the foredeck and the other on the sun deck, so the arriving potentes did not have to experience the embarrassment of landing prioritization which revealed their pecking orders.Jed Cooper stepped down onto the sun deck helipad on the highest point of the ship with his shoulder...
Weekly Contest #225
This story can also be enjoyed as a parallel plot to my previous submission The Night Gathering. *********Maurice Kahlo looked down at the dead body of Maurice Kahlo.Approaching behind him was the pitter patter of Sy Green running breathlessly on the pavement of the one of New Orleans’ back alleys, which are perennially wet and sticky from rain, flood, spelled beer, and bodily fluids. Sy looked down, up, and then down again. “What the fuck Mo?”“My brother.” Kahlo uttered, more to the corpse then to Green. “Will this be th...
Weekly Contest #224
This story can also be read as a continuation of my last submission The Interrogation.****Kai Matsuda woke up at 2 am and realized that his life will end again. He swept the buzzing red bottom and Jenny Desautel’s voice came through on his cellphone. “You OK Kai? They said you were arrested.”Looking around to confirm he was still in his own bedroom, Matsuda reassured Desautel that he was not in custody. He reached over to the empty bed space and realized that Melissa was gone, and so were her clothes which were hanging on the back of th...
Weekly Contest #223
Some unidentifiable insects have died on the LED bulb, the thoraxes and abdomens had disintegrated but the antennaed heads and wings remained security plastered on the single light fixture in the windowless room. Must be the only room in the entirety of Louisiana State University College of Medicine that’s not covered in degrees, diplomas, certificates, awards, and other proofs of life well lived, matted in tasteful pastel and framed in richly stained wood, gesticulating the subdue austerity suitable for learned scholarship, the youn...
Weekly Contest #222
Being betrayed is like breaking your arms. You can forgive but you won't be able to hug. -Leo TolstoyLouisa pranced upstairs. The euphoria of becoming the newly elected president of the 42nd Street Council allowed her to ignore the bleeding leg wound. It was only after she sprinted up to the fourth-floor landing that she realized her utter exhaustion and, there on the linoleum steps, the trail of congealing blood glistening under the fluorescent lights.Taking a breather on the landing Louisa recalled that it was her best friend Agnes who ha...
Weekly Contest #221
The shaggy youth cladded in leather scurried down the steps and entered Mostellaria, a beloved Flushing basement dive on the corner of Main and 37th. The bartender pointed his chin to the corner. The young man followed the directions and found the one he sought dressed in a comfortable polo and brown chinos, reading the New York Times, and sipping from a bottle of IPA. “Herr Geist. I think it’s time for us to work.” “Vhat's your hurry?” Leering over his reading glasses, the older man responded with a slight German accent which his younge...
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