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Weekly Contest #286
All stories are circular, I suppose. Mine included. We’ve let the music continue to play, a dull thrum in the background; I can’t tell what song it is anymore or where it’s coming from. I’m not sure if I care what song is playing anymore. I feel like my ears have already heard all that there is to hear, and cannot bear another note or tone. I can see him from the kitchen, still laying on the old moth- eaten burgundy sofa, draped in a dull window curtain— years of use under the sun had drained it of its vibrant colors. I frown to myself...
Weekly Contest #253
Summers on the East coast sucked.Scratch that. Actually, all seasons on the East coast sucked. But summers especially. I hated how the cold made my skin itch in the winter. I hated how the heat made my skin burn and sweat in the summer. Spring and fall weren’t even in-betweens; they were both equally uncomfortable. “Olly!” The young toddler bursting into my room didn’t have enough teeth to pronounce his L’s yet, so to any other person, it sounded like he was spouting nonsense. When I heard him speak, I felt like I understood a whole oth...
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