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Weekly Contest #259
Ralf stepped off the boat, dropped to his knees, and pressed his hands to the ground. Lush, green grass rubbed against his palms. His fingernails dug into rich black soil. This was good land. Fertile land. So different from the arid dustbowl of home. He could live a true life here, not a meagre existence. ‘Is it everything you dreamed of, friend?’ Ralf snapped his head up to find a bearded man smiling down at him. The man looked old. Older than anyone else Ralf had ever met. He might even have been 50 or 60. ‘It’s amazing,’ Ralf said. ...
Weekly Contest #219
Elise only ever wanted one thing in life; to take to the stars and soar. While other kids decorated their rooms with posters of pop stars and footballers, she collected models of the ships of the System Defence Squadron. When her classmates were busy partying or studying, Elise dragged her parents to conventions filled with starships, shuttles, and spacesuits. It was on one of those trips that she first laid eyes on the Low Orbit Combat Simulation Instrument—LOCSI, for short. The machine that would change her life.It was love at first sight—...
Weekly Contest #191
I’m not like most people. I accepted that a long time ago. To be honest, I hate that label, anyway. What does it even mean? Everyone has their burdens to bear, right? We all have those little things that come so easily to other people but drive us insane. For some people, that’s dating and the hot flush that scrambles their brains every time they even think about talking to someone they like. For others, it’s reading or writing and how the words swim across the page, turning what should be a simple task into a nightmare. For me, it’s the out...
Weekly Contest #184
When I become conscious, I’m not lying in bed. I’m not lying anywhere. I’m walking. My stomach lurches. I’ve had another episode. I sit down on the park bench and take a few deep breaths. It’s okay, I tell myself. Everything will be okay. You’re safe. You’re alive. They’re the same things I tell myself every time I black out. On each occasion, they become a little harder to believe. The episodes started a few months ago, around the same time I lost my memory. I wake up somewhere with no idea of what I’m doing or how I got ther...
Weekly Contest #182
My face burned with humiliation as the other Senators laughed and jeered at me. The entire Senate hall, or curia, as we called it, had turned against me. And the instigator of my shame? Catiline. Who else would it be? That he, an ignorant disgrace to Rome, wished to insult my reputation was no surprise. But that my fellow senators, men of honour and distinction, valued his birth and breeding over my cold logic and flawless rhetoric was a savage blow indeed.I had just completed a lengthy and thoroughly researched speech detailing why Catiline...
Weekly Contest #179
Why can’t I just say how I feel? It shouldn’t be hard. It should be natural. The most natural thing on earth. Everyone does it, right? Everyone’s always done it. It’s nothing. Just one small step. A few words. A few taps of a keyboard, even. I reach for my phone. I’m gonna do it. I could call you, or… no. I’ll text. It’s less stressful that way, for me and for you. It lets us make sure we say precisely what we mean. Less chance for misunderstandings.I open up my messages and scroll to your name. It’s not hard to find. I could pick your ...
Weekly Contest #176
‘And what seems to be the problem, Mrs…?’‘Whittemore. Devona Whittemore, of the Lancashire Whittemore’s. Perhaps you’ve heard of my family. We’re rather big in the automotive industry.’Mr Shikhandi shrugged in apology. ‘I can’t say I have, though I don’t get out much.’ He waved a hand, gesturing to the dimly lit workshop around them. ‘As you can see, my work keeps me rather busy.’Violet peered out from behind her aunt to take a look around. She’d heard much about Mr Shikhandi, or ‘The Alchemist,’ as he was usually known. Several tables were ...
Weekly Contest #173
TW: Contains mild bad language. What’s so special about a damn book? That thought had been spinning around my head for the past two weeks. Whenever it seemed willing to leave, Emily’s tears flooded it right back into place. After a long day of dragging from pawnshop to pawnshop, it was dug in deeper than ever. Still, my quest would end here, one way or another. I looked up at the sign. Cody’s Quick Cash. The last pawnshop in town, located right in the middle of the slimiest, most run-down neighbourhood. Against my better judgement, I pushed ...
Shortlisted for Contest #171 ⭐️
TW: Contains swearing, gory violence and trauma. When the war ended, I thought I would feel free, liberated. I didn’t. Oh, I admit, I felt a fleeting joy as we watched the cursed Nazis turn tail and flee from Belgrade. When women and children wept with joy to see their men return home. But these sparks of happiness soon faded into the empty void inside of me. Even my parents’ shouts of pure delight at seeing me alive did not warm my heart for long. When Marshall Tito spoke to us among the ruins and rubble of Republic Square, proclaiming ...
Weekly Contest #169
TW: Contains physical violence/ gore, swearing, and themes of abuse.Do it for Charlie. I repeated the mantra in my head over and over again as Bruce towered over me, screaming in my face. The stench of stale beer clung to him, his eyes were glassy and bloodshot, and his white vest was riddled with stains. Some people, most people, would call this situation a nightmare. I called it Saturday.I wanted more than anything to retreat into myself. To become an island. It would’ve been easier then. After all, what does an island care if a storm smas...
Weekly Contest #168
TW: Contains some bad language and physical violence/gore.I’m going to kill them. We’ve all thought it, don’t bother lying. The difference between us is you’d never do it. You tell yourself it’s because killing is wrong. You’re not a murderer. It just isn’t in your nature. But that’s not true. The truth is, you’re afraid. You don’t think you can pull it off. You think you’ll get caught. And you’re right, you would. You’re not me.Yesterday, some jerk bumped into me in the street and spilt his scolding hot coffee all over me. You know the type...
Shortlisted for Contest #163 ⭐️
Emma Whitworth sat outside the post office, just as she had every day for the past week. Her stomach ached. She’d tried everything to make it go away. Ginger, chamomile, peppermint, even that new vapour rub that always gave her a headache, nothing worked. Only one thing could relieve her pain now. She glanced up at the clock tower. It was almost eight o’clock. The office staff should have finished sorting the letters by now. She rose from her seat, took a deep breath, and slipped inside. The minute she saw Mr Finch’s face, she knew that r...
Weekly Contest #161
TW: Contains violence/ gore and bad language. I pushed my food around the plate, not eating a single bite. Refusing to eat might well be a sign that something’s on your mind, but throwing up all over the dinner table is probably an even bigger one. Luckily, Dad isn’t what you might call an observant man. I managed to last a few minutes grunting non-committal replies to his questions. Then Mum entered the room, and everything fell apart. ‘Patrick dear, what’s wrong?’ she asked. I froze, my fork poised over the latest meatball I’d been p...
Weekly Contest #160
Extracts from the personal records of Roland de Claire, senior advisor to Lord Montgomery of Oxfordshire. 14th August 1198. Today was a most interesting day. This morning, His Lordship summoned me to attend him in his solar, so naturally, I hurried there with all due haste. However, upon arrival, I had a rather nasty surprise. Instead of His Lordship, I came face to face with Sir Brutus of Grimsby, a most unpleasant man. He greeted me with a nod. ‘De Claire.’ ‘Sir Brutus,’ I replied with the same. With the pleasantries out of the...
Winner of Weekly Contest #159 🏆
TW: Contains some descriptions of blood and violencePhilip smiled at me as I shuffled towards his counter. ‘Morning Frank, how can I help you?’Good. If Philip was in a cheerful mood, that would make this much easier. I smiled back at him. ‘One course of antibiotics, please.’He eyed me with concern. ‘You’re sick?’‘No,’ I replied. ‘Katy is. She’s got crimson fever.’Philip’s eyes widened. ‘I’ll get your meds right away.’ He put on his spectacles and turned to rifle through the bottles and packets filling the shelves behind him, the harsh white ...
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