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The rain in Seattle didn’t wash things clean; it just made the grime slicker.From the passenger seat of the unmarked cargo van, Silas watched the droplets race down the windshield, distorting the neon sign of the bank across the street. Every drop that hit the glass felt like a tiny hammer striking his skull. He shivered, pulling his black tactical jacket tighter around himself, though the interior of the van was stiflingly warm."You look terrible," Micky said from the driver’s seat. Micky was chewing on a toothpick, looking annoyingly healt...
The silence on the island felt expensive. It was the kind of quiet you had to pay for, miles away from the hiss of air brakes and the roar of the furnace I was used to.For ten years, my life had been loud. I’d worked as a melter, standing in front of crucibles that turned scrap metal into liquid fire. I’d driven trucks across state lines, hauling refrigerated loads while screaming at traffic that couldn’t hear me. I had been a man defined by noise and heat, by a low-simmering anger that sat in my gut like swallowed lead.Now, the only sound w...
Submitted to Contest #331
From the third-story window of the house that was no longer technically his, Elias watched the snow fall. It wasn't the polite, dusting kind of snow that decorated Christmas cards. This was heavy, industrial-grade silence descending on the suburbs of Chicago. The flakes were fat and wet, clinging to the naked branches of the elms, erasing the cracked pavement of the driveway, and smoothing over the harsh edges of the world. It was a complete whiteout, of the neighborhood he had watched age for forty years."Dad. Please."The voice cut through ...
The doorbell didn’t ring. It shrieked. It was one of those old, wired buzzers that sounded like an electrical fire waiting to happen, the kind that made your teeth hurt.Mara dropped her toast. Peanut butter side down, naturally. It was Tuesday, and Tuesday was rapidly becoming a day for small, accumulating failures.She wiped her hands on her jeans and went to the door. Through the peephole, the hallway was empty. Just the peeling beige wallpaper and the flickering fluorescent light that the landlord promised to fix three months ago.She opene...
Submitted to Contest #254
Chapter 1: The Spark In the heart of the quaint town of Oakridge, nestled between rolling hills and dense forests, stood Millie's Diner—a small, family-owned establishment known for its hearty breakfasts and homey atmosphere. The diner was a staple in the community, a place where locals gathered to share news and catch up on each other's lives. It was also the workplace of twenty-seven-year-old Sam Miller, a waiter with a hidden past. Sam had moved to Oakridge a year ago, seeking refuge from the chaos of his former life. He rented a small ap...
Under the blazing Arizona sun, the highway seemed to stretch endlessly across the desert, a ribbon of asphalt cutting through the barren landscape. The heat shimmered in the distance, creating mirages that danced tantalizingly on the horizon. This was the domain of two truckers, rivals by necessity and enemies by choice: Hank “Hawk” Turner and Mike “Rattler” Rodriguez. Hawk was a grizzled veteran of the road, his face weathered and creased from years of sun and wind. His truck, a gleaming red Peterbilt, was his pride and joy, polished to per...
In the bustling heart of New York City, Amelia Carter was known for her relentless drive and tireless work ethic. As a top executive at a major marketing firm, she thrived on deadlines, late-night meetings, and the adrenaline rush of sealing deals. Her calendar was perpetually full, her phone constantly buzzing, and her mind always racing. But behind her success lay a fraying thread of exhaustion and discontent.One evening, after a particularly grueling day, Amelia found herself staring blankly at her reflection in the office restroom mirror...
The days melded into weeks, and the rhythm of Jack’s life took on a new, steady cadence. He established routines that anchored him to his new reality—morning jogs in the park, afternoons spent volunteering at the shelter, and evenings at support group meetings. These routines were his lifeline, each day a small victory against the pull of his former life. One crisp autumn morning, Jack decided to visit the old neighborhood where he grew up. As he walked the familiar streets, memories flooded back—some sweet, others tinged with the bitterness...
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