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Weekly Contest #346
The old woman hobbled down the train station platform and into the shelter. Agnes Mayfair forgot about the bruises on her body for a moment and got up to help her onto the bench. She winced in pain as she took the old woman's weight and lowered her into the seat. The old woman hung on the crook handle of her rosewood walking stick with plump, pink hands, eventually catching her breath. "Thank you, duck," she said. "My back isn't what it used to be. Sixty years ago, I was a pole vaulter, if you can believe that." Agnes offered a stiff smile, ...
There is a breed of workaholic whose fuel is ambition. Zack knew it; he saw them every day—youngsters, mostly, flitting about the building like immaculately dressed hummingbirds. He wasn't like them. Whatever goals he'd had—if any—were long forgotten. He was a different breed. "What?" he snarled into his hands-free. "What do you mean they only just got the Burke memo? No, not tomorrow—now. I don't care if it's 11:30 at night! I said now, damn it!" He stabbed the end-call button on the console. "Fuck! Incompetent cretins!" At least the traffi...
Weekly Contest #345
Craig sat at the kitchen table. From there, he could see into the living room, where Chloe was sat too close to the television watching a Disney film, her face washed blue. At the counter, her mother fixed a cup of tea—or coffee; he couldn’t tell. He’d lost his sense of smell after a head injury in the Falklands. His eyes worked well enough behind the glasses. His hearing worked just fine. "You want one?" she said. "Where are the fags?" She slid the cigarettes from her back pocket, leaving a worn square in the denim. She was barefoot, toenai...
Weekly Contest #326
Doctor Blake hesitated, then said, "There is one thing you could try." "What is it?" I lifted my head out of my hands and shuffled my chair up to his desk like a mad seal. "Please, for God's sake, tell me!" "You have a cat, don't you?" "I do! I do!" "Getting old by now, I should think." "He is! Yes! Very old!" "The one thing you could try, Vincent—you COULD try—and this is by no means prescriptive, let's make that clear—the one thing you COULD try is..." "Yes? Yes?" "Eating your cat." I gawked at him, silent. Had he just said what I thought ...
Weekly Contest #294
"What?" she said. "What?" "What?" she repeated. "Oh!" he exclaimed and repeated himself—but it didn’t really register because something on the menu had caught her eye. "Excuse me," she said to Jayesh, a passing waiter. Jayesh stopped, struggling to balance two trays of cocktails. "What is that?" "The vada pav?" said Jayesh. "Fried potato dumpling, spiced and served in a bun with a choice of chutney. From Maharashtra, it says there. Highly recommended." "Does it contain nuts? I'm allergic to nuts, you see. All nuts. It doesn’t matter the type...
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