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Weekly Contest #33
“Go on, open it!” Rose crows, hopping excitedly from one foot to the other. I grin at her excitement; her trip to Mauritius has done her the world of good. Her skin is simply glowing, her smile radiant. I tear my eyes away from her flushed cheeks and focus on the squishy package she’s just handed me. Wrapped in simple brown paper, the contents are a mystery. I slip a finger under the flap and start ripping. Each tear exposes a new colour, a new pattern, a new texture… I’m baffled until the garment is fully exposed.“It was handmade by the loc...
Weekly Contest #31
Fusilli! Pasata! Onions, courgettes, peppers! I slap the ingredients down on my counter, bopping along to the nonsensical song in my head. Olive oil! Garlic! Three whole cloves of garlic! I crack the cloves off the bulb, watching the flaky casing fall down around my feet, shuffling in their striped socks. You whack it in a pot and stir it all a lot! Ha, I even made a rhyme! I fill up the kettle and click it on, throwing pasta into a saucepan and salting it. Dragging a heavy wooden chopping board in front of me, I get to work on the onio...
Weekly Contest #30
On, she read. The library door eased shut after she stumbled through it, shaking her umbrella like a disgruntled bat. Fat lot of good it had done; she ran a hand through her dripping hair and sighed. All was well now though. She was back where she belonged. Closing her eyes, she drew in a deep breath, savouring the scent of old books and quiet studying, of coffee forgotten, gone cold, and long nights hunched over desks. Leaving the useless contraption in the bucket by her feet and wiping her feet, she started a slow walk towards the rows upo...
Weekly Contest #29
I open my crusted eyes and peer begrudgingly at my surroundings. The sprawling mess of clothes curled around my legs like the extremities of a tired beast. The semicircle of scattered notebooks spilling from the mouth of my open backpack. The mugs with lipstick stains adorning the rip with the pattern of an old-fashioned doily. The congealing takeaway container of… something? I squeeze my lids shut again – I’d seen enough. From my position, curled on my ...
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