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Weekly Contest #272
Thomas ‘Tommy T-Coke’ Cocoa watched as a pitch, better yet, ‘his’ pitch sailed straight down the meaty center of the plate. ‘Strike!’ The umpire cried out loudly behind him. T-Coke stepped out of the batter’s box and tried to regain his focus. There was an immediate encircling chorus of bitter boos and jeers from the crowd of forty-eight thousand New York baseball faithful and T-Coke bemoaned that this was not the reaction he had garnered only two years ago, maybe even one year ago. ‘Yes,’ he confirmed to himself mentally, ‘definitely not ...
Weekly Contest #271
‘Wake up, wake up,’ John Miller heard the psychologist attempt to pull him out of the dark in a dominating, yet cautious whisper. Even if he had wanted to, John knew he wouldn’t budge a millimeter unless one counted muscles being drawn tighter and tighter as moving. He heard the doctor’s voice, he knew what it wanted of him, but he knew it could have been the voice of the ten to fifteen psychologists with whom he had met before and who all endured the same non-physical response. They had to accept: John Miller was frozen. He was frozen dee...
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