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Weekly Contest #320
The mammogram image stared back at us like a fortune teller eager to share the future. “Is it just me?” Missy said. “Or does that look like a dog smiling?” Dr. Liu frowned and ignored the question. He waved his pen at the computer screen. “That mass is not a joke, Mrs. Robinson. We’re going to need more tests and set up a treatment plan.” “Nah.” Missy shook her head. “It’s just scar tissue shaped like a smiling dog. Lowell here,” she patted my hand, “was born in ‘46. Year of the Dog. You’re familiar with the Chinese zodiac, right, Doc?” But ...
Weekly Contest #273
When I was a boy, Mother told me, “All mirrors reveal beauty and shadow. Like the god Narcissus, fools focus only on the former and ignore the latter.” “Why would anyone want to look at the darkness, Mother?” I was vain and self-obsessed, even at a young age. “The mirror reveals my beauty—the most important thing. I don’t understand.” “One day, Atanase,” she said, “you will.” Years later, as a young man, I gazed into the mirror and was pleased to find the shadows exposed no wrinkles on my face. I turned my head to admire my profile and froze...
Weekly Contest #248
Once upon a time I was a broken bird with frayed, graying feathers that found itself imprisoned in a golden cage. At some point I began to believe that flying was wrong. To protect my heart I entered the prison of my own free will; after all, it was surely to my benefit not to fly when the ground is so very hard. Yet my spirit became uneasy; my wings hung limp at the bars of my cage— when I said flying is wrong I believed it. I was naive. As if in answer to a silent plea, I am no longer alone in my golden prison; a pair of gloved hands, whit...
Weekly Contest #239
You’d never call me an overachiever. I don’t care much about grades. I’m not in community college to shine. It’s more like a placeholder until I figure out what to do with my life. I’d rather fumble along and get so-so grades. That’s worked out quite nicely my first year in the graphic arts program at Kaufmann Community College. Mom and Dad’s motto is simple. “Stay in school. Live at home rent free.” Works for me. So when I get the ominous summons from Dr. Peters, with the word ‘plagiarism’ on it, I don’t freak out. Much. Plagiarism? Not...
Winner of Weekly Contest #234 🏆
What has four faces, eight arms, and can’t tell time? The clock tower at Union Station. Four clocks on the tower and none of them run? I mean, what’re the odds? I peer up at the time and shade my eyes. It’s 6:47 pm. Always is, always will be. And all anyone knows is that on a Monday the world was a loud, frantic place and Tuesday it wasn’t. Tuesday? Really? The world should’ve ended on a Saturday. Saturdays are fun. Used to be anyway. But no. We get eternal friggin Tuesday afternoon where nothing changes. Ever. Good news though— we’re ...
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