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Weekly Contest #347
According to the Internet, belief is the acceptance that something is true or real, often without requiring complete proof or evidence. In other words, it is the feeling of certainty—trusting something even when it cannot be fully proven. For Caspian, his belief had always been unwavering. As long as he could remember, his mind clung tightly to the things it decided were true. For example, he believed that if he hadn’t asked his father—on his eleventh birthday—for the new Mario game he wanted so badly, his father would still be alive. Anothe...
Weekly Contest #346
“Absolutely not!” Julian stared at his shorter, redheaded best friend in disgust. He had met Ansel on his first day of college—running late to Literature, papers flying everywhere as sweat clung to his skin. While he scrambled to gather them, a boy with the kindest smile, crouched beside him and helped clean up the mess. They had been inseparable ever since. Now, with a few month of college left, Julian was more than ready to get rid of him. “Why not?” Ansel whined, pouting. Julian narrowed his eyes. Ansel knew exactly why not. He just enjoy...
Weekly Contest #344
Have you ever been handcuffed before? The sharp, taunting sound of the click that makes your stomach drop. The coldness of the metal, biting lightly into your skin if you move. Each moment restricted and heavy from the constant pressure on your wrists. You’re vulnerable, completely exposed to the person in-front of you. It’s humiliating. The van took a sharp left, and I sank deeper into my seat. Jesus, you’d think a criminal was behind the wheel. Instead, we were the criminals — flopping around like fish thanks to Officer Pete’s driving. The...
Weekly Contest #343
7:45 a.m.The curtain is drawn, and death lurks behind, a merciless shadow hungry for his victim. I wonder if the shadow knows of the helpless souls attached to this one body. Not only will death be rewarded with one today, but fifty. I twist uncomfortably on the wooden bench. Five pews, each empty except for a woman sniffling in the front row. I recognize her amber hair from the last pew, and sympathy almost courses through me.Tick… Tock… Tick… Tock… I yank at my tie, the tightness around my neck unbearable.“One cup of coffee, black, two sug...
I was dying.“Miss Graves?”Is this what a heart attack feels like?I needed to go home. I was too far—“MISS GRAVES?”I looked up, startled by the slightly raised tone. The clock next to the brunette woman ticked on, showing me the remainder of time.“Sorry.” I felt the heat on my cheeks as I licked my lips nervously.“It’s okay. How’s the adjustment to the new medication?” I looked as her eyes softened at the question.Guilt stirred, and I wanted to tell her I wouldn’t know—that the medication bottle sat on my nightstand untouched for two weeks.“I...
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