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Weekly Contest #362
Maggots and Milk Aisle four of the Piggly Wiggly was the least likely place for a flashback, but it happened just the same. While Henry browsed the colorful shelved foods and sundries, his motorized cart, with all its bells and whistles, died. Confident his doting daughter, shopping somewhere in the store, would eventually come looking for him, he had no choice but to wait. Henry found himself simply content to be free of his apartment's confines. His daughter was a godsend since her beloved mother had passed, but a man Henry’s age had to b...
Aisle Be Damned My youngest son barrels through the back door brandishing an aluminum trash-can lid as a shield and a crude tin-foil sword. He's covered head to toe in what appears to be blood. The only thing saving me from calling emergency services is the overwhelming smell of ketchup wafting off him. “Are we out of both ketchup and foil now, too?” I say. The fridge is empty, we’re down to half a roll of toilet paper, and apparently now we have no ketchup or foil. This means I have no choice but to take my four- and five-year-old sons groc...
Weekly Contest #357
My Ride or Die I realized I’d become my Aunt Evelyn about a year after she passed away. It wasn’t some dramatic moment. I was standing in front of a mirror, studying my reflection. The way I pursed my lips felt familiar. The angle of my chin had quietly softened. My eyes carried the same tired kind of amusement I’d come to recognize in her at the end. The resemblance startled me. My mother's sister, Evelyn, took me in and raised me after my parents died in a car accident. But I wasn’t allowed to call her aunt. She was never someone who fit n...
Weekly Contest #356
Home Leaving Home The day we lost our freedom, it fled with barely a sound, like a teaspoon against the lip of a porcelain cup. Ping. I had just turned 15 - too naive to understand that the small comforts of my life would slowly dissolve like sugar in tepid tea. That December afternoon, rain slicked the sidewalks into mirrors. Streetcars hissed and rattled along tracks. The city smelled of damp wool, tobacco smoke, and seawater drifting inland from the bay. Somewhere farther down the block, a radio crackled with static, and voices too harrie...
Weekly Contest #350
I Rest My Case “Your Honor, I would like the court to understand that none of it, including the shooting, was my fault. I was certainly present, which I admit does not look ideal. Still, presence and responsibility are two very different things, as anyone who has ever attended a town meeting can appreciate. “No, ma’am, I do not need or want an attorney. I have chosen to represent myself. Although, my daughter, bless her heart, believed the decision was a terrible idea. She said that judges prefer answers that travel in straight lines. Unfort...
Weekly Contest #335
SNOW-GLOBES and MOONBOWS The day after Christmas, snow fell in the Northeast like it had a purpose. It came thick and fast, nearly erasing Bethlehem’s grimy steel mill’s lofty smokestacks, and blanketing the surrounding row houses into something gentler, quieter. Inside the Miller home, 6-year-old Noah stood on a chair staring through the ice-sequined kitchen window. Snow was stacked against doors, burying parked cars to their side-mirrors. The early morning glow of streetlamps blurred into soft, trembling halos. Noah watched his father make...
Winner of Weekly Contest #330 🏆
TAG The jungle never slept. The air buzzed, especially at night. Danny got used to distant gunfire, but in his dark bunk, the most paralyzing was the unknown. An invisible dread that wrapped around a man’s throat and whispered, Morning will never come for you. The guys only knew each other for a few months. Yet, since their tour of duty began, together they’d survived oppressive heat, monsoons and mudslides, mortar fire, and the soft murmurs of uncertain prayers and stifled sobs while hiding in foxholes. They just wanted to go home but when ...
Shortlisted for Contest #313 ⭐️
Muscle Memory It was the kind of quiet you only notice in high-end department stores on weekday afternoons, with its low lighting, plush carpeted floors, and overhead speakers playing a song you used to love. Most of the items were well out of Madelyn’s price range, but this was the store the engaged couple had chosen for their gift registry. The wedding invite was from an old college friend who was seven months pregnant and marrying her longtime boyfriend. Madelyn was excited for her friend but only agreed to attend if she didn’t have to b...
Shortlisted for Contest #311 ⭐️
Seven Crayons Are Enough They always arrived in the late afternoon. Slow beams of yellow light moved across the wall behind the hospital bed and highlighted the hand-drawn pictures he'd drawn on their visits. His very own art show, Mom had referred to that wall after she taped-up his third drawing for Grandma. He was so relieved when his mom immediately took his hand in hers. Grandma looked very old, and it scared him. So small and bony, her wrinkled face reminded him of the worn-out, crocheted blanket she'd made him when he was born. Under ...
Winner of Weekly Contest #260 🏆
We were death partners before we were friends. The day we met some 30 years ago, I was so pregnant with my first child, I resembled an over-stuffed sausage about to burst its casing. I’d forsaken style weeks earlier when my shoes no longer fit. I couldn’t even reach around my massive torso to shave my legs; limbs sporting enough hair to scrape clean a barbecue grill. You, on the other hand, had just wrapped-up an open-house and strode across my threshold for the first time, like a seasoned runway model. I’ll never forget your chic...
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