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Weekly Contest #325
Content Warning: This story contains depictions of panic/anxiety attacks, references to childhood sexual abuse (not explicit), gaslighting, and a physical confrontation involving violence. Annabeth sat on the edge of the bed waiting for Miriam to bring the tea. Her hair was falling loose from its pins already, the result of a clumsy attempt to do it herself. Much had changed since Edmund left to fight the Germans. Her life at Windward House was unrecognizable. She recalled the recent conversation with Miriam, the cook. "You are going to ha...
Weekly Contest #227
I rubbed my feet together under the blanket, as I watched the first snowflakes of the season drift like frozen whispers past the window. My dad used to do the same thing when he was content. It’s funny how things like that can be genetic. I like the house to be cold. There is a level of comfort that can only be experienced in the winter, when the air carries a chill that almost bites the skin, causing you to retreat beneath the covers. When the weight of the blanket feels as safe as steel. Morning light mixed with charcoal shadows ...
Weekly Contest #181
“I think this is it, Gil.” Hattie flashed the information sheet she had printed from the internet with a picture of their new home at her husband. Gil was quiet. She looked down at the well creased page and up again, comparing the photo to real life. “This is going to be so great!” They struggled to make it down the goat trail that served as a driveway. The couple were pulling a trailer too large for their car which caused the weary sedan to protest in metallic screeches along the bumpy dirt path. &nbs...
Weekly Contest #178
The little clock in the corner announced midnight with a Christmas carol. Its plucky, staccato notes warmed my sentimental heart. I looked up from my book and studied the room for the hundredth time that evening. The tree cast a golden glow that mingled with the light from the fire and made everything warm. Snow fell like feathers all light and silent beyond the window where a single candle made a halo on the glass. I laid my head to the side, resting it on my shoulder and thought about how in just a few short hours Christmas mor...
Weekly Contest #102
A light fog settled low, as the autumn twilight painted the sky orange. Ainsley watched a flock of geese take turns honking and flapping just above the tree line and rocked in an old chair. Wood on wood and breath on wind. Strong hands raised a glass of whiskey to ready lips, its warmth reached deep. This was his evening ritual. Daylight brought toil and sweat but dusk brought rest. He worked hard for the ache in his ba...
Weekly Contest #99
We, each of us, are sculpted by life. The type of vessel we become is a direct result of the fingers and fire that make us. I’m a baker. I walk to work in the company of stars. I feel their presence and I know they see me but whatever wisdom they might offer is light years away. Most people sleep while I walk the streets. I think they must feel safe, tucked in behind locked doors while the night has its way with the world. I feel safe in the dark, alone.  ...
Weekly Contest #98
Katherine Donovan’s only comfort was darkness. There, in the shadows, she could be quiet. She didn’t have to smile or laugh or pretend to be alive. She put a blanket over the bedroom window to keep the life out. Somewhere, in the fluid space between sleep and awake, she found a modicum of peace. If only she could stay in that place. If only reality could be swallowed whole, by dreams and darkness. Real life tipped the scales when the bedroom door burst open a...
Weekly Contest #96
A long, abandoned farm house in the middle of nowhere waited, through years, changing seasons, and the inevitable encroachment of nature. It waited for breath and heart beats. Memories of laughter and life echoed through its lonely halls. It stood alone, in stoic silence for so long that it eventually lost itself in a sort of deep sleep. Until the day she returned. It knew her instantly, though she was a woman now. How many years had it been? It couldn’t be sure but she was just a girl when it last saw her. She had to thrust all of ...
Weekly Contest #95
Content warning: domestic abuse, violence Which of us, laying in bed at night searching the ceiling for answers, haven’t wished we could go back in time and make wrongs right? Angus Darkwood spent his life wondering what would have happened if he had not killed his father. Courts, family, strangers, everyone agreed that it was self defense as if their conclusions could absolve him. As if they could take away the guilt. He sat in the center of a long concrete hall with his back against t...
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