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Weekly Contest #369
Trigger warning: this story includes sexual violence, and substance abuse. The House with No Doorbell By Brent Bosworth The house at 13 Sycamore Street is an ugly, falling-down bungalow with peeling brown paint. The storm door doesn’t shut all the way, and where a doorbell used to be, there is now just a hole in the wall. Even from the doorway, it smells musty, and I’m overwhelmed by mildew as soon as I walk in. I turn and run to the banister just outside the door, and lean over it just as I can no longer hold back the vomit. When...
The keyboard chattered under Matt’s fingertips, but the words wouldn’t come. He’d type nonsense, racking his brain to figure out how to begin and erase it just as quickly. “God dammit,” he said with a sigh and poured another shot of poison from the bottle of Maker's Mark on his writing desk. He popped an Ativan in his mouth and washed it back with liquid fire. He looked away from the desk, staring into the void that was his empty apartment. There was a bed, a telev...
Weekly Contest #213
Three infected surrounded Charlie as he backed himself against a tree. He tried to duck behind the old oak to get away, but Charlie was too small and slow. He was only seven years old and his little legs and coordination were not cooperating with him. He tripped over a root, and they were on him in seconds, tearing at his clothes. Charlie’s father Bo had just arrived back on the scene to see his son flailing like one of the old tube men you’d see outside of a tire dealership. He raised his pistol in the air and fired a round. The noise insta...
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