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Weekly Contest #53
Another day with extraordinarily little to pee. Yes, I said it. Little pee. The heat is so unbearable. It is like the sun has inched closer to the planet. Everything is covered in a thick coat of dust. The water table is next to nonexistent, even in this coastal town. It has been twelve days straight without any rain. The last rain we had was a quarter of an inch, and it dried up before it even had a chance to soak into the ground. It’s a wonder if any of the infants of this generation will know what mud is- or rain or hailstorms, for that m...
It would have been more satisfying if it wasn’t all over my hand. The red was so intense one would think I had blood on my hand. It was just a blueberry rhubarb popsicle. The shop at the beach had two healthy options and blueberry rhubarb was my pick. I tried to eat it on the boardwalk, the wind kept blowing so much it was as if the wind itself was licking my popsicle away. The entire reason I had let that popsicle melt began with two men-strangers to me- fishing on the pier near where I was seated. It began calmly li...
Weekly Contest #51
Jemma stared up at the last handful of the night’s stars. They were like sequins of silver sprinkled on the blackest of canvases. Perfectly and brilliantly placed. It was five in the morning and Jemma was too full of the jitters to sleep. She was brewing coffee and thinking of how the yard was so picturesque. Out there, were two hundred chairs arranged almost like a perfect orchestral set up; each chair with a swag of coral and white satin ribbon draped over its back. The thick grass was cut impeccably. The oak trees waited patiently with th...
Trigger warning: depictions of suicide How many hairs did she pull from her head today? Probably two hundred. Maybe I have two hundred freckles, she thought. Did Crayola make two hundred colors of crayons? How fast did the world's fastest car go? Close to two hundred miles per hour? What will this town look like in two hundred years? If she were a witch would she only live for two hundred years? The number for the day: two hundred, once again. She sat on the tub's smooth edge contemplating suicide. 'What if I ate over the counter pills like ...
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