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Weekly Contest #340
She’s crying again. I watch through the rain-streaked windows of the convenience store, as her shoulders rise and fall with grief. She wipes her tears behind the counter then glances around for witnesses. It’s dark outside and the store is empty, so she blows her nose and straightens her back. Will she forgive him again? The door chimes as I walk in and she looks up, startled. “Welcome in!” It comes out strained and she coughs a little. I don’t pull down my rain-drenched hood and I don’t look at her. I head straight for the ramen and dry foo...
Weekly Contest #323
I can’t risk writing them down.My thoughts, I mean. Like cracking my ribcage open for the world to peek inside. So I release them every night after dinner, when almost every faucet is running, the TV or radio or both are blaring, the dishes clinking, my foster siblings squabbling with their parents.Our parents.“They want me to call them ‘mom’ and ‘dad’,” I told him with a sigh, tucking my knees to my chin and pushing my toes under my rumpled duvet. “I get it. But I just want them to care about me, not fold me into their cake. The blackberry ...
Weekly Contest #313
Cold, damp, musty. A windowless trap of moldy bricks, held together by mortar made from ground human bones. That’s the kind of place Serenity expected a séance to take place. Instead, the sun filtered through sheer golden drapes like motes of fairy dust onto the plush green rug of Dr. Windsor’s office. The rug took up most of the small room, bordered by mismatched chairs with busy throw pillows, and the whole place hugged Serenity like a hand-sewn quilt. There were two other women in the room besides the doctor and herself, who looked to be ...
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