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Weekly Contest #375
My grandfather, Arthur Ray Jackson, was a boy of eight in 1948 when he killed the crow. Walking down his dirt-lined road in the North Carolina town he called home, he came across the silken, black-feathered thing hopping into a small ditch on his left side. I don’t know where the crow was going, and, for the record, I don’t know where Granddad was going either; that part is never included in the story. What is included, however, is the sudden and bewildering urge that overtook Arthur Jackson, an urge to leap into the ditch with the crow; gra...
Weekly Contest #364
I’m not paying much attention at first as I walk up the driveway at 206 Hauser Street. This is my second time here this week, and it’s the seventh time this month. No one in my thirty-one years has ever said I’m not persistent. It’s why I have one of the highest retention rates at the company where I’m (hopefully) building my life-long career. I normally give all former customers the standard three tries and go about my way, but this one—Nadine Hopps—is notorious for stopping and restarting her service in order to bring costs back down whene...
Weekly Contest #308
Frankie was supposed to be playing photographer, capturing as many moments of the engagement party as humanly possible. It was his ONE job. But being the cousin of the groom afforded him a little slack. Plus, everyone knew who he was as a person, so it wasn’t like the results were expected to be anything except casual, which suited Rem and Rose just fine. Also, the thousands they’d paid for the wedding day photographer would probably make up the difference. Frankie looked for her as covertly as he could, scanning the ornate L.A. ballroom li...
Weekly Contest #307
In all of her seventeen years, Georgia had never heard of an entrance exam for reform school. Alternative high schools weren’t typically a dumping ground, per se, but what kind of institution for “troubled” youths was not only looking to recruit, but vet their student body? The Cerchio School. That’s what. Cerchio took the roughest kids across the region—not just the district or even the county—when they were on their last chance, last expulsion, last juvenile detention stint, and placed them exactly where they needed to be. And where they w...
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