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Weekly Contest #187
Wild Pete Stories originate with each soul, Even the soul of cats. My Grandad’s raven sharp barn cat’s soul came with an abundance of independence. Although within Wild Pete’s physical dimension, he operated as a somewhat muddy and manuery (if that’s a word) barn cat. In 1953 my family called me Butch and I’m compelled to tell this brief story that belongs lovingly to my Grandad, me and Wild Pete. I met Pete at age five on a snowy, bitter cold November morning,. Let’s look back . My parents had gone to Reno and dropped my sister and I off ...
Weekly Contest #186
Content warning: Frequent cussing. “Billy it’s Polly.” “My oh my. Polly I never expected to hear from you, been sixteen years. Everything okay?” “Your sister gave me your number. Pike is mistreating your son Billy, and me. I don’t know what to do. I can’t talk much before I start crying. Can you help?" “Polly, if you haven’t already, assemble a go bag for the both of you. I’ll come soon. Pack those bags with important documents and what you will need in the short term. Hide them where they are easy to access.” ”Okay Billy. Come soon.” ...
Weekly Contest #154
Content Warning: This story has brief sexual content and two cuss words. Pickles and Ice Cream The engine purrs evenly as it propels the Mercedes C-220 through Connecticut meadows and stands of Birch and Maple. The headlamps spread light over the wet pavement and on curves captures a damp scenery and snowflakes mixed with the rain. Outside it is ice cold. Jacob admires Gin, his wife, sunk down and asleep in the passenger seat. A wholly erotic vision crawls into his head showing them at home joined together in their warm bed. The Sunday dri...
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