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Weekly Contest #162
[Contains strong language.] When Michael finds Jude, she is cloaked in red from head to toe. Not in clothing—she wears what was pure white negligee, edged in chantilly lace—but in something more visceral. Red cakes nearly her entire body, stopping at an almost clean break at her ankles. There is a smudge on her right foot and on her left, a thin, single line trickling toward the bridge. He focuses on that line, that lonesome, dark red tributary, as he lowers her into the tub. The water blossoms into petals of pink. Michael’s hand does not...
Weekly Contest #138
[Trigger warnings: divorce, mental health.] They say there is no rest for the wicked, but there doesn’t seem to be rest for anyone. Vee feels this most when she is lying in bed after a long day of staring at a computer screen, the blankness of a dingy, maimed wall (flat paint is the worst), and into the eyes of her daughter. She is too young to understand; she is a toddler in every sense of the word, ambling from one part of the house to another, taking on greedy grips of the world, unaware of how fragile it has become. The thought makes ...
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