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Weekly Contest #309
There is something smelly in here. Clean. Not necessarily good, just clean. Paper and bleach and lemon. Washed-out. Sober. The smell of something serious. That something is going to change. I almost turned around twice. Once at the door, and again when I saw the woman at the front desk look up at me with that too-bright receptionist smile. But I didn't. "Hello sweetie," she said. "Calling to check I nodded, clearing my throat. "Yes. Um, for 3:30?" "Name" I hesitated. "Elena…. Elena Moore." She typed something into her screen, her nails clack...
Weekly Contest #307
They say if you boil a frog slowly, it doesn’t jump out.That’s how I explain it, sometimes, when people ask.When they tilt their heads and say, “Why didn’t you just leave?” But I didn’t realize that I was boiling.Not at first. He wore cologne that smelled like smoke and amber.Drove an old car with torn leather seats and a tape deck that worked only if you tapped twice on the dash.Said things such as “You’re not like other girls” and “I’d kill for you.” He had battered knuckles when I met him.Said they came from defending someone’s honor.That...
Weekly Contest #117
WARNING: THIS STORY COTAINS SOME MATERIAL THAT MAY BE HARMFUL OR TRUAMATIZING TO SOME READERS. PART 1: Why me? "Julian? Are you alright?" Parker asked, laying a calm hand on my shoulder. I continued to look out the cold window of the bus, not saying a word. "I'm sorry, man. I wish I could help more." He said, shrugging. The bus began to slow down, and Parker and I got up from our seats. The guys in the back whispered and pointed at me, and Blake threw his jacket at me, laughing. "Just ignore them," Parker said, throwing the jacket back and ...
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