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Weekly Contest #374
They armed the demolition charges - and left me here! Brady Porter scurried into the aging station’s airlock and pulled a space suit over his six-foot, athletic frame. Don’t rush it. Get it right. But get out. Now. A fair distance to the San Miguel. Can’t afford to run out of fuel or malfunction on the jet-pack. A mental checklist blazed through his mind. He grabbed three jet-packs, replaced their fuel units, and lashed two together with a bungee. He pulled two additional fuel units from storage. All these he tethered to his waist, attached ...
Weekly Contest #370
Dallas, Texas — Early morning MorningStar Retail Headquarters, Main Data Center Addy Applegate tapped commands, her fingers a blur. She brushed back a strand of chestnut hair. In the screen’s reflection, her own green eyes stared back at her as though pleading. Data center servers around her blinked and hummed, overhead sodium lamps created an odd glare, ionic fans pushed a breeze in every direction, and the air held the faint scent of old ozone and floor cleaner. Overhead, five flat-screen monitors scrolled runaway log activity. And mocked...
Weekly Contest #369
CW: Contains themes of and/or references to gun violence I’m Gina Garrison but my friends call me Grift. Not because I deceive or steal things from them. Because I do it to everyone else. It’s not like crime pays. But it pays the bills. New York City and I tried real jobs and thought I could make a decent living. One day I realized people are far more interested in parting with their own money if I made it entertaining. But I’m no sleaze and nobody touches my body. At lunchtime, I strode into Magic Bob’s Bistro, an upscale storefront restau...
Weekly Contest #366
First and Only Late afternoon, downtown Charlotte, North Carolina, a decrepit city alley, the statuesque Anya Keating, forty-something, five-foot-nine, a hundred twenty pounds, stepped into winter, breath frosted, feet crunched ice, and pulled her jacket tight. Garbage bags, litter, and homeless people arrayed the walls. Eight to her right, bundled and sleeping. Four to her left under a warm vent. Seven wandered between her and the dark blue Mazda sedan, twenty yards to her left. Its exhaust pumped vapor. She pulled her weighted duffel unde...
Weekly Contest #364
Good Chemistry Jan Leeman’s childhood home, nestled near idyllic Tyler, Texas, no longer bustled with the voices of her family, pets and the noises of life. Its quiet air still held the odor of nonenal, that sweet enzyme that percolates from older people as they convalesce. She braced her five-seven, athletic frame against a door, donned shoes, and peeked into her mother’s room. A month prior, she’d traded goodbyes and in one afternoon, inherited the entire estate on her mom’s last breath. Miss you, Mom— Her phone chimed. A text from Detect...
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