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Weekly Contest #350
Andrew was surprised to receive Nick’s text. He hadn’t heard from him in months. They used to hang out every Friday night until Andrew outgrew the bar scene. Now he spent most of his time at work or playing with his dog, Boots. Nick hadn’t done the same. The text promised big news, and what better place to share big news than at the pickleball club? Nick waited on their reserved court, twirling his paddle with one hand and texting with the other. “You look good, man,” Andrew said as he approached. If anything, Nick was overdressed. Surely pi...
Weekly Contest #349
Arra cried silently, stooped over the cutting board lest anyone in the compound notice. Orion sat at the table behind her, absorbed in his logbooks and storeroom inventories. Leda bustled nearby, mending clothing and linens. Through the blur of saltwater, Arra could see Titus chopping wood outside. She matched his rhythmic cadence, aligning her knife with his axe to steady herself. She’d prepared any number of excuses. She was chopping an onion, and the juices wreaked havoc on her mucus membranes. It was an onion she’d planted, tended, and p...
Weekly Contest #348
Evanna tipped her canteen beneath the scarred carafe, capturing every drop of rationed orange beverage. Her stomach turned at the acrid scent. The sludge wasn’t appetizing or filling, but promised vital nutrients. Behind her, Dillon shifted from foot to foot. His canteen was the one he got on their first day in the hostel, with the dent and a ring of filth around the neck. Second or third hand, just like everything else. “Move along, assignments start in five minutes,” Mr. Coney growled. Evanna stepped aside to let Dillon get his fill. If he...
Weekly Contest #347
You’re never up this early except for something good, like coffee and a pastry. No —don’t think about pastries. No one at this gym is thinking about pastries. How could anybody think about pastries when the smell of sweat, rubber mats, and disinfectant assaults you with every turn? It’s been so long you set foot in a gym, you’re mildly surprised the peeling plastic keyfob still works. A few months ago, this place was packed with good-looking people squatting, curling, and sweating in front of unforgiving mirrors. Now it’s less cr...
Ernest perched on the porcelain dock, ready to set sail. The tide was out, hardly visible from his vantage point. Chatter from dispatch told him he would sail today, but not for hours. With a wheeze from water-weakened lungs, he sighed and slipped back into his memories. His first voyage: the shock of the water temperature, far warmer than he expected. The thinnest slip of the currents, growing stronger as he ventured further into the deep. The screams of his fellow sailors in a storm; water pouring from a malevolent god. There were too ma...
Weekly Contest #345
There are too many people on this train. I’d hoped to rack up enough variables to deter a crowd: weekday, early season, a decrepit train line with no destination other than the landscape outside the window. And yet, as the train pulls away from the station, every seat sways with bodies. The tracks drop to the desert floor. Elbows pulled tight to my sides, I scan for a safe seat and size up the crowd. It’s mostly retirees, locals killing time, or state park passholders seeking the season of the superbloom. It isn’t ideal, but it eases some of...
Weekly Contest #344
There wasn’t a space for her. She’d waited all week and worked on her act for far longer. She’d been able to pick harmonies from the radio before she was in hard shoes and had a guitar in her hand since age four. In more recent times, she spent her days scrawling lyrics in the margins of her homework assignments, singing softly to herself as she passed in the halls of Menlo-Atherton High School. The clipboard in front of her was half-hidden through her thick, blonde bangs. She blinked, disbelieving. Every line on the Youth Ope...
Weekly Contest #343
Pilates with the other grade school mommies cannot be missed. Most of us go for the social hour and the promise of after-sweat smoothies, but I love the workout. It keeps me trim, strong, and ready for whatever happens next. My smartwatch pauses its heart rate tracker to inform me that Michael is calling. I slip out of the studio with a whispered apology to the instructor and take the call. “Sorry to interrupt, babe, but I’m feeling so down. I know hearing your voice will help,” Michael says. “What is it?” I’m instantly on high alert, but I ...
Weekly Contest #342
Maya scanned her ID badge and stepped into the elevator. Her heart beat so hard she was sure everyone could see it through the thick canvas of her Repression Solutions coveralls. The brushed metal doors reflected her coworkers, swaying like wraiths as the car conveyed them into the subterranean depths. Maya’s stomach flipped when they touched down on the warehouse floor. She climbed a ladder and nestled in the cockpit of her mech, flipping switches to activate the hydraulic legs beneath her. The startup safety protocols ran. She reviewed the...
Weekly Contest #341
In this college town, the coffee shop is an unlikely sanctuary from the sprawl of co-eds. Students need caffeine as much as any other sleep-deprived human, but for whatever reason, be it their still-developing frontal lobes or a commitment to a nocturnal lifestyle, the local coffee shop is a ghost town before 9:30am. Dawn is a confirmed middle-aged woman, thank you very much. One of the disadvantages of being a middle-aged woman is the inability to consume caffeine after 8am or else there’s a restless night in store. So, when her daughter, i...
Weekly Contest #340
“Huddle up, hunters,” our leader says. We are the four fiercest warriors in our unit. Our ineligible brethren wait with bated breath, pigeon toed and stinking of fear. They have nothing to be afraid of, because no obstacle will prevent us from securing our victory. The leader kneels as a sign of respect for what we are about to do and begins to review our battle strategy. “Remember, keep your hands free,” the leader concludes before he releases us to the hunting grounds. Diego, our tallest warrior, nods to the group and cuts a path to our...
Weekly Contest #339
The grinder whirs, pulverizing the coffee beans into a coarse powder. My molars cry out in empathy for those bitter seed pods. Sleeping and waking, my jaw works overtime, compressing and decompressing. It’s 7:55 on a Thursday night, and Tripp isn’t home yet. “I’ll be home in time for our program,” he said this morning. I’d leaned in for a kiss, blushingly clutching my bathrobe. He works late some nights but never misses an episode of our sitcom. I tip the bulky grounds into the French press and add hot water straight from the tap. Making tea...
Weekly Contest #338
“You got one too?” Clare asked her sister. They crossed the threshold of their childhood home. “Have you opened yours?” Lydia produced a folder embossed in gold script: From the Desk of Marlene Dunmore. “Of course I opened it. How else would I know to be here?” Clare said. “There was the invitation, but I also have this envelope with our names on it.” “Still the favorite daughter.” Clare crossed her arms over her chest like a five-year-old denied a second slice of cake. “It’s not fair that you get a letter to both of us. I’m the one who hand...
Weekly Contest #337
My tools stand at attention on the marble countertop, waiting to be wielded in pursuit of artistry. I select the first and affix a dollop of charcoal gel to its bristles. The device springs to life at the press of a button. I begin to brush my teeth. The Proclean Prestige 8800 is the best toothbrush on the market. The bristles are arranged in a circle to achieve the optimal forty-five-degree cleaning position. It has five cleaning modes. I've selected Whitening Mode for maximum brushstroke pressure and a slightly-above recommended brush dura...
Weekly Contest #336
“You’ve listened to our community’s opinions, and you still decide against them.” Carl leaned against the door, blocking the exit. “It isn’t their decision to make, Carl. It’s ours,” Mary said. “And there’s little time for debate.” “Mary, you returned from the aeronautics show hours ago. It’s too soon to take flight again. No one has inspected your silks. The carrier pigeons need sufficient rest.” “Nothing I can’t contend with,” she said. “I’ll leave The Flying Cloud for the men to look over and take The Zephyr instead. Let Clio and Thalia t...
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