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Weekly Contest #249
Click. Click. Click. My five-inch heels, my everyday shoe choice, echo through the renovated train terminal, their sounds competing only with the noise of the tourists’ wheeled suitcases. Other than that, there was silence. Almost a reverential silence. Like the kind you experience in a church or some libraries or museums. Are the tourists too overawed to speak? It’s almost spooky. I wonder if a noise deafening device has been installed during the renovation. There should be more noise here. Especially with all these hard surfaces. I’ll have...
Weekly Contest #199
The First Meeting New York City - 1975 “Here we are, miss,” the cab driver said, pulling up in front of Chez Monique. This wasn’t what I expected, Beth thought. In her mind a “Chez” anything connotated dim lights, candles flickering on tables, and waiters in long white aprons drifting noiselessly between tables. Instead, this restaurant in the heart of New York’s financial district, the all-encompassing “Wall Street,” looked like a high school cafeteria. Bright fluorescent lights beamed down from the ceiling, and waitresses scurried arou...
Weekly Contest #178
Guess I’ve put this phone call off long enough. Why did my sister decide making a plum pudding for Mom and a fruitcake for Dad would be the perfect way to bring a little holiday spirit and harmony to the family? I happen to enjoy Saturdays by myself sans holiday spirit. Maybe she’ll have to work after all. Nurses’ schedules are always changing. Fingers crossed. Good. The phone’s still ringing. No answer. Oh well, I tried to confirm our plans. Just as I was set to hit the “End Call” button, I heard, “Hello?” “Oh, hi, you’re home.” “Just go...
Weekly Contest #148
If I weren’t standing in front of the Cort Theater in the middle of 48th St., I’d scream. That thought ran through my head every time I came out from a darkened theater into the pinpoints of sunlight that found their way through the surrounding buildings down to the sidewalk. The bus that would take me north to Orange County was leaving in ten minutes. There was no way I could get from 48th St. and 7th Avenue to Port Authority Bus Terminal on 42nd St. and 8th Avenue in ten minutes. Especially through the flood of outpouring matinee theater-...
Weekly Contest #126
A NEW YEAR’S RESOLUTION THAT BACKFIRED If I weren’t standing in front of the Cort Theater in the middle of 48th St., I’d scream. That thought ran through my head every time I came out from a darkened theater into the pinpoints of sunlight that found their way through the surrounding buildings down to the sidewalk. The bus that would take me north to Orange County was leaving in ten minutes. There was no way I could get from 48th St. and 7th Avenue to Port Authority Bus Terminal on 42nd St. and 8th Avenue in ten minutes. Especially through ...
Weekly Contest #124
Eileen Joyce Donovan Word Count: 2,300 words 75 West End Ave Apt P11C New York, NY 10023 edonovan7650@gmail.com 336 528-3648 www.ejdonovan.com LIFE, DEATH, OR SOMETHING IN BETWEEN? Eileen Joyce Donovan As the plane pulled away from the airport terminal, I buckled my seatbelt and stared out the window. I wasn’t really seeing anything out there. Instead, I was thinking about the morning funeral I had just attended. I still couldn’t believe Millie was de...
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