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Submitted to Contest #312
She is an old woman, her hair wrapped tight in linty curlers, sky blue nightgown hanging off her shoulders. She laughs quietly to herself, listening to the smoke alarm blinking gently through the thick fog of her eyes. “Damn, I think I’ve burnt them again,” she tells the voice behind her, his chuckles greased by years of tobacco-smoke.“We got bagels someplace in them drawers, those eggs ain’t even good.” “Good cause they’re not for you,” she says in between bites, dusting the crumbs from her sky-blue tablecloth, the one Paul told her had a r...
Submitted to Contest #245
Around the corner of a run-down building, where the red brick is grey with dust and the blinds hang to the windows by a thread, is a large new street, crisp and black, sloping down a gentle hill. Follow that big bright street, turn a few more corners, and there, tucked beside an ice cream store and a parking lot, is a market, running without fail every Saturday evening, popping up at lunch and gone by the time the sun is down. For a few hours each Saturday, it no longer smells of sticky asphalt and cigarette smoke, but popcorn jumping in lar...
Submitted to Contest #223
My head lies slumped against the window, a glass stained with many years of spit, tears, and grime. My hands lie in front of me, wrapped in cold metal, cuffed to the seat in front. Past the grilled partition that separates us, a woman’s sultry voice drifts through, the radio turned up uncomfortably loud, the driver tapping his calloused hands against the leather wheel. He occasionally looks up at me, bushy eyebrows slightly crinkled, catching a glimpse of my face besides the cut-out photograph of a little girl taped on the rearview mirror. S...
Submitted to Contest #220
“Looks like we got ourselves lost.” A voice, low and resigned, words like the crunch of gravel under horse hooves, heavy, stones rolling down an endless plain. The man bends over in his saddle, patting the horse’s steaming flank, kneading his knuckles down its heaving neck. Foam gathers on its lips, frothing and bubbling, dripping to the sodden ground bit by bit, as hot air heaves from its lungs. Ears quiver, hooves stamping anxiously on the floor, eye twitching as it struggles to remove the dying fly caught in its corner, thin limbs caught ...
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