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Weekly Contest #367
CW: Suicide, gore At some point, as I wandered the winding trail that makes up my life, I made a decision—the way we all have, and maybe one like all the rest—that kicked me out of the path I’d scored for myself in the dirt. Maybe one day a red light came on a little too fast and I had to stomp on the pedal a little harder than I have before. Maybe I fished a grocery receipt out of my cupholder and realized that the money was always supposed to end up there anyway. Maybe it was...
Weekly Contest #323
Raindrops dripped down the window, leaving little footprints behind as they raced to the bottom. I picked out my favorite and watched it with interest, hoping it would reach the finish line before its competitors. Gravity pulled it along, and it travelled only a few inches before stopping to catch its breath. The others passed it quickly, and after a few moments of silently willing it to continue on its path, I lost interest. My eyes blurred as I shifted my attention from the raindrops to the streetlights below. From my second-sto...
Weekly Contest #282
WILLIAM Garrett Barron Jr.—headed northbound on Oak Way. It was the blinding hour, and the sun slotted through the police car’s windows at an angle that perfectly struck Gimmick’s eyes. He felt hungover, still, but maybe it was withdrawal. Withdrawal made him sound like an alcoholic, and Gimmick had never liked the sound of that word. He didn’t quite like the sound of his own name either, and he guessed maybe that was the same sort of deal. They had taken Ollie—that was the man’s name—out of the...
Weekly Contest #253
On a Thursday night in the dead of winter, in a state where the word “winter” meant almost nothing, the world was made only of boxes on paper. Some of these boxes were crossed out, but far too many of them were not. One of these unchecked boxes sat next to a homework assignment that was not due that night, but had to be done that night anyway, because if it was not, then it would need to be done the next day, and the next day already held its own set of unchecked boxes. ...
Weekly Contest #252
Garrett Barron Jr.—headed northbound on Oak Way. The street was thin enough to almost be a back road if not for the spattering of houses on either side. The man was just about the same sort of deal—thin enough to be almost nothing, and only quite something on a technicality. His loose handful of friends called him “Gimmick,” and he supposed that was just about right. His first trick, which had earned him the nickname and a target on his back, had been to pick a fight with the dickbag who stole ...
Weekly Contest #246
Trigger warnings include: grief, implied past abuse. The moon was a grin that night, and the wind was the sharp gnashing of its teeth. We stepped willingly into that bite anyway, Milo without a jacket. He would be fine for a while, and then he would fight against shivers for the rest of the night. I had on a long-sleeved shirt underneath my jacket, and that would be plenty for me when I inevitably handed the jacket over to Milo. ...
Weekly Contest #241
Lucky crossed the street in a set of long, quick strides, glancing back and forth the whole way as if a car would come hurtling out of thin air. He’d heard stories of worse things happening to better people, and his name was all title—not at all a descriptor. He reached the other side, as if by miracle, and disappeared straight into the trees. Lucky had been doing a lot of disappearing for a long time. He wanted to say he couldn’t believe he had tossed everything away for a man named Barney, lik...
Weekly Contest #240
Trigger warnings include: death, car accidents, depictions of grief. Earl sat against the wall opposite his sister’s bedroom. He wasn’t allowed in, so when he couldn’t sleep, he sat outside, staring at the door as if it might open from the inside. The sun was coming up, reaching its fingers in through the windows, and Earl had been in that spot since one in the morning, completely sleepless. Earl’s mom, a slight woman named Lacey, stepped out of her room and into the kitchen as soon as it seemed ...
Weekly Contest #239
It was my job, as it had always been, to carry the scraps out to the curb and wait for them to be gathered. It was not my job to watch, but some things couldn’t be helped. I peeked in through the kitchen window as Miss M chopped things into bits and pushed aside the odd ends. She would give those to me, later, and I would give them to the truckmen on Tuesday or Friday, whichever was next. I watched her scrape the chopped bits into a bowl and scrape the odd bits into a nicer, smaller trash...
Weekly Contest #238
I’d had “moving day” written on the calendar for months, but it turned out that moving was not a day but a weeks-long project. During the first few days, I took hardly a single phone call, and for good reason. After those initial days of chaos and sleep, when things slowed down and I would’ve killed for a phone call over all the unpacking, you still did not call. I think the reason was good enough then, too. To ...
Weekly Contest #237
When I was old enough to talk, but also old enough to know that I didn’t particularly want to, I bounced between different means of communicating until I found one that I actually enjoyed. Writing was tedious and complex, almost as much as talking was. I preferred simpler, more structured interactions. My parents tried to get me to talk to professionals who could coax conversation out of me, and sometimes I humor...
Weekly Contest #236
Trigger Warnings include: Mental health issues, implied trauma, parental neglect, substance abuse (alcoholism), withdrawal, suicidal thoughts, mentions of implied suicide, mentioned parent/spouse death. Please read with caution. This story is a continuation of I Don't Know What to Tell You and The Fucking Ugly Truth which are on my profile, but can be read on its own. Evan had seen what trying looked like while his mom was still alive. With her, trying was a dark cloud that hung over every step she took. She smiled and laughed, an...
Weekly Contest #235
We’re watching a show, and you keep turning the volume up and down and up again. When they’re whispering, the volume goes up, and when they’re fighting, it goes back down. I can tell exactly when you’re going to reach for the remote, and every time you do, the volume changes in twos. 20 to 22, 22 to 24. You double tap the volume button every time, as if it’s all one movement. You didn’t always do that. I did, t...
Weekly Contest #233
Trigger Warnings: Alcoholism, substance abuse, implied child neglect, depression, implied trauma, and mental health issues, mention of implied suicide This story is a sequel to I Don't Know What to Tell You, which is on my profile, but can be read on its own :) Evan came out of the tunnel and stepped out into the blinding, blistering light of a hangover, sharp and lucid and ugly. He wanted to turn around and walk back into the darkness, but sleep was gone, and it wouldn’t be...
Shortlisted for Contest #232 ⭐️
Trigger warnings: main character death, murder, implied suicide. The sun was always there, and it was an unsung luxury to not have to think about it. I wish I knew enough about it to tell you why we started to. I wish I had known enough about it to do something. Maybe I did. Maybe we all did. The concern began long before I was born: Global Warming. Always talked about in big, important letters, everywhere that...
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