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Weekly Contest #368
Ms. Rickers was ninety-three years old. She was lying in the inclined bed with eyes shut, her white hair neatly tucked either side of her round, plump face. She wore the special gown: off-white base with red and pink lilies. It fits her nice, Lucia thought. Better than most.Her elegance was ruined by the thick endotracheal tube in her mouth.Lucia put her raven-black hair in a ponytail, pulled a chair and sat next to the bed. The rhythmic hissing of the ventilator calmed her - there was a certain finality in its inevitable whooshing and beepi...
Weekly Contest #327
I have a good life. My mother died a very long time ago. I was young and don’t remember much of it. To be honest, I only remember our first home and barely having learned to walk. I never knew my father. He must have died in the war. My brothers told me about the war. It was bloody and messy and terrible. My brothers said it's better that I didn't see it. My stepmother took us in, me and my two brothers. She came to our house one day, and said I will take care of you. She took very good care of us. I really don't remember much from back then...
Weekly Contest #325
The stale, humid air was suffocating. The discomfort in his chest was a constant. Every breath came unsatisfying, half-empty, leaving him craving more. He was moving slowly, and yet his legs felt heavier than when sprinting in the open plains. Rubbery vines snaked across the forest floor, tangling his path. Every couple of breaths, hunger pulsed through his empty stomach, draining what little energy remained. The smell should have been overwhelming on its own. The stench of wet, disintegrating leaves and bugs was unlike anything he had sense...
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