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Weekly Contest #329
He is magnificent. Messy blond hair, with small strands twisted into the beginnings of tiny dreadlocks. A setting sun frames his body, illuminating him like an angel as he stands there with a thumb out. He wears a dancing bear tie-dye shirt with dirty cargo pants, and a canvas pack covered in patches is slung over his shoulder.“Pull over!” Violet points and leans forward, practically bouncing in her seat.“You want to pick up a hitchhiker?” I pretend not to notice how beautiful a specimen he is, but Violet’s face crumples, and I can’t hurt he...
Weekly Contest #328
The book had not been there before. Caleb was certain of that. By the time he reached the shoreline, it was well past ten. The air gnawed his joints with a chill that ate at his soul. Above, dusk lingered, not quite night or day, like a dream he couldn’t wake from. He spotted the backpack right where the hiker had described it: twenty feet from the slough, half swallowed by silt. The book was another matter. It did not appear in any of the photographs, certainly not in the evidence log. Small and leather-bound, it looked like the sort of thi...
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