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Weekly Contest #53
2120 "...That would be about it on the celeb scoop for today. As per usual, we will be back tomorrow to let you know how it all pans out. For now, though, we will turn our attention to our own John Levins, who will give us the front on today's weather forecast." The TV screen buzzes and cackles, threads of glitch flashing in various inky colors, seems to fry every last one of Bruno Floyd's nerves, as the screen splits and John's face appears on the right. "Hello there, John." There's a quick silence as she shuffles her papers. "G...
Weekly Contest #48
Sterile, fluorescent light. I blink. I feel white-washed. It pounds down on me. Sluggishly, pulling me under. And nobody notices, because... who would? I'm in my own world. "Hey! Kiddo!" Someone's speaking, I whip around trying to detect the voice. "You gon' wait around all day? Or are you gon' get yo ass home to yo mom whose standin', in yo home with a plate o' milk and cookies?" I'm a bit woozy. My lips feel cemented to each other and my mouth tastes like gunk. It takes me a moment to remember where I am. "Kid?" I'm in the newsag...
Weekly Contest #47
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania (2002)The train rattles past. A subtle reminder of time passing. It shakes the crummy apartment that sits next to the tracks, as a faithful cat to its owner. It shakes the whole building microscopically, but evidently. The glass of water that the daughter grasps in her trembling hand, slips, tumbles and smashes onto the cheap, wooden floor. The impact shatters the glass, crystal-like splinters shoot in every possible direction. An inquisitive sight, perhaps to some, but this just brings tears to the girl's eyes.&nb...
Weekly Contest #46
It was a supernatural kind of day. The weak sun sprinkled the pavement with light and a subtle, modest kind of joy. The wind sighed satisfactorily, as it swept airily through the London streets. Crisp, crimson leaves fluttered around me, the dusty, grey sky was in perfect contrast. They looked tangible, the leaves. As I reached out from my sitting position, a leaf gently brushed the palm of my hand. On the outside, I smiled. On the inside, I laughed. I lifted my hand and groped wildly in the air. That seemed to "scare off" any leaves that ca...
Weekly Contest #44
It's 1979.My mother’s brand-new Kodak camera clacks and flashes awkwardly, as the university's chancellor clasps my clammy hand to shake it. I see stars from the flash of the taken photo, but when I adjust my line of vision, she is the only one I see. Despite the audience in the auditorium, who are heftily cheering me on, and believe me, today it is brimming, overflowing with people. Small kids, who don't know what or why they have been dragged here, run around chasing each other into the corners, squealing in excitement, only...
Weekly Contest #42
Marlene sat in the front booth of the diner. It was a nice colour. Duck egg, people called it, and it was comfy. It was leather, feather padded, with a sleek, varnished table. Marlene liked booths. They gave her just the right amount of privacy, but at the same time never emitted any feelings of coolness to a passer by. This one wasn't any different from the last or the next booth, and it would work just fine.The diner was... bright? It looked as though the architect and designer were mainly inspired by bizarre and fantastical candy shops. T...
Weekly Contest #41
The day is sweltering. Heat rises like gas from the sand of Santa Monica State Beach. My head feels like a helium-filled balloon, that is about to take off and climb into the winds of the Californian air. I was hanging around downtown Santa Monica for hours. Feet blistering, my grubby sandal straps cracking in the heat, when I diverted from my, up until then, meandering course. I had turned left, and that is how I ended up on the beach overlooking one of the most spectacular skies I have ever seen.&nbs...
Weekly Contest #40
I stand in the lashing rain. It's almost a whipping sensation, that rain gives you. It's like stressed fingertips violently drumming on your head and shoulders. Or like a virus. Trickling in, somehow making it past your mum’s resolute Macintosh. Into your clothes, that after five minutes are exhaustingly drenched and clingy to your bare skin. The worst part is the coldness, but then there comes a time when you can't feel that anymore. You can't feel anything. I've reached that stage. I've gone past that stage. I'm numb. From my toenails up t...
Weekly Contest #39
Sometimes I wonder what the world would be like without me. Am I nature's spiritless, monotonous experiment. Drab and lifeless. I hate myself. Time ticking on my blue clock on the wall of my kitchen. Suspended in mid-air, swaying steadily to the rhythm of my life, my footsteps. I like to imagine life being taken in footsteps. Leaps, bounds, tiptoes, jumps, skips, strides. All of the above and more. Presently, I am guardedly seeking baby steps. Pawing obstacles gently, then obtusely retracting and cowering in dumbfound shame, each time closin...
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