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Weekly Contest #292
Have you met the man with mosaic eyes?Seeing the world in colors unheard.Painting scenes no one else can surmise.Electric gold on the wings of a bird."Surreal", he whispered when he first saw you.The limits of beauty always ranging.You stood in place as his work of art grew.Dazed. The sky above started changing.Cobalt rains melded into salmon springs.Honeyed winds swirled red with suggestion.The sun swallowed the moon in amber rings.Shocked, you turned to the painter in question."Have you looked at your eyes? They’re mosaic.A painting, stuck...
Weekly Contest #252
Please enjoy a tale from the Hotel Baku, formally dubbed ‘The Ass and the Shrew’.You see, the co-managers here don't see eye-to-eye. Mr. Tall is 6’ 7” and Ms. Small grows on his thigh. They share a chair that’s bigger than their desk. A melded clump of limbs that’s actually grotesque.While holding this position, yes - you must embrace tradition. On the other hand, times are changing and our guests are wide-ranging. Hotel Baku sits inside the gates of a luxury resort. You can enter by docking in a private eastern port.Enter the lobby; enjoy t...
Weekly Contest #249
An airborne pickup truck reflects in small, wide eyes. One dark mass among the clouds. Raindrops burst in great spasms against a van's windshield, blurring its crooked path.The moment of impact happens in the span of a blink.Soft curls whirl until they’re crushed against metal. Tires screech on wet pavement. Blurred movements toss two passengers from their seats; clubbing the third.It's a lanky teenager that finds his bearings first, getting to his knees. Frigid winds tear away his voice. It carries his sister’s cries closer.“Papi?”The gapin...
Weekly Contest #221
Olivia,I miss you.Mom and Ryan miss you too.Please, come home.Olivia,I hope you’re happier.SEARCH FOR MISSING TEEN CONTINUES. WHERE IS OLIVIA KLEIN?Faded pictures stare back at us from every newspaper. You look artificial under their editing. It’s driving Ryan insane. He taped over the mailbox so people would stop sending sympathy cards. Mom barely comes home from work. She says she needs the distraction, or she’ll go insane. It’s too late for the rest of us. I thought I saw you yesterday.Strawberry blonde waves reflected in my rearview...
Weekly Contest #156
We caught the house on fire, and he’s smiling.Heat presses against the windows, desperate for an escape. They’re all locked. Every door is shut. There’s no escape. It rushes back toward us in an angry yell. Let me out. Let me out.Paint curls against the walls. Ash sketches the ceiling in soft brushstrokes. Then that, too, begins to curl. The corner I’ve retreated to is shrinking around me. My legs curl to my chest. My head curls to my knees.My shrinking space is invaded by a hulking figure. His hand hovers over mine. Then it clamps on top of...
Weekly Contest #131
Grace was trapped in the dinghy, bleeding all over the floor. The Little River Market was in full swing around her. Supplies were loaded onto boats. Vendors shouted out prices, waving their hands to anyone passing too closely. Grace scoured the docks for help. She had to duck her head to wipe a stray tear. Her fish nets were empty, and her father was gone. Both were caused by the Huxley brothers. They cut her nets early that morning. Grace had pulled up unraveled rope, marked with an ‘H’. To them, it was a practical joke. To ...
Weekly Contest #117
The Demon of Tricks sits at my door.He says he loves me, but I don’t know anymore.The screaming down the hall has put mine to shame.I know he has others, and I am most tame.“Hardly tame, love,” he laughs, pacing the space outside the gates. Shadows push against the thick material, but never cross. Sounds and smells, of laughter and decay, are the only pieces of him allowed through. “But you are my favorite,” the raspy voice purrs. His swift steps come to a halt, and the gates creak again, as he peeks into the room beyond.White hair is sprawl...
Weekly Contest #113
Two of the screws in my porthole have fallen out. Five rusty ones remain. The window shakes with every wave that slams into it. Water runs down the wall, making puddles on the floor. If our captain wasn’t oblivious of the world around him, I might bother to tell him we’re sinking. His nose is too high in the air to see the moldy wood at his feet. It’s coming in through the cracks in the wood and the rain from above. We’re being drowned, slowly. He only cares about his pile of broken things. He dreams of fixing everything that lay at his ...
Weekly Contest #109
The eyes of a killer hold me hostage. His silhouette is unmistakable, even in the dark. Black orbs take the place of eyes. They disguise any hint of emotion. The steely gaze frightens me, but I know enough to hide the fear. I stare back, basking in the stillness of this moment. Any sudden movement could set him off. That’s the last thing I want. Panic pushes at the gears in my brain, but I ignore it. I continue to hold his gaze. The seconds seem to last a lifetime. I wonder if the cold bothers him as much as it does me. He doesn’t show any s...
Weekly Contest #108
Falling in love with fiction is the worst type of heartbreak. She’s already on track to meet her prince charming. He’ll fall in love with her wit. He’ll be the one to tuck that piece of hair behind her ear. He’ll get to hold her in his arms and mine will still be empty. I’ll just have this book with pages and pages of her.She was written for me. The intent was the world, but it’s me she found. She feels too familiar. Blonde hair and blue eyes, with freckles all over. Brave at her worst. Content at her best. I know she’s just a character in a...
Weekly Contest #79
“If you go, you’ll die,” he whispers into the phone, barely making a sound. Seconds pass by without a response. The gutted words hang in the air between them, untouched, as he drags a trembling hand through his hair. Finally, a shaky breath cuts through the silence, “Then I guess I’m calling to say goodbye.” It takes a minute for the words to wash over Tommy. ‘Goodbye’ seems to stretch on forever. The weight of the words hit him all at once. His fist shoots out and connects with the aging wood of the phone booth. Anger cont...
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