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Submitted to Contest #280
“Lucy, did you take an edible before we left the house?” “What? No. Why?” “I feel like you’re floating above the restaurant right now. You have that look that you only get when you’re either deep in thought or stoned.” “Sorry, babe. The first one. I’m just thinking.” “About what my love?” “Well… Josh, I got invited to the Atelier des Lumières Provençales. The letter just arrived this afternoon.” “Wait, hold on, that’s the really famous program in France, right?” “No, the Atelier des Lumières Provençales is in England....
Submitted to Contest #279
Fifty days ago, Christopher left his dilapidated Subaru in a deserted parking lot deep within the entrails of Cascade Forest National Park. Forty days ago, he became an unwilling member of an infamous group he used to read about in the newspaper with cold, rolling eyes: lost hikers. Soon after moving to the small town in which he currently resides, nearly a decade ago, a new friend suggested going for a hike nearby. Christopher was not an avid hiker, and his less-than-ideal cardiovascular ability gave him pause at the idea. Still, the ...
Submitted to Contest #278
This morning I awoke startled by the sour taste of dread oozing from my mouth. Twelve mornings ago I first felt dread sneak into my body like an unwanted houseguest that I couldn’t evict. Each morning since it has climbed higher through me. It started at the tips of my toes, then reached my legs, stomach, heart, and, this morning, finally, my head. As it climbed, it poured viscous, sour honey into my ventricles and capillaries until I was consumed. I knew that the day I first tasted the dread would be the day my father died. Today must be th...
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