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Weekly Contest #345
The doors to the train opened and Daniel stepped inside, dripping from head to toe, his suit clinging to him like wet paper. The train was packed. It was rush hour and he made for the only empty seat he could see, a table seat at the far end, with an older man asleep against the window. The man was in his sixties, slightly balding and looked unkempt and a little dishevelled. Daniel sat down, took off his suit jacket and placed it on the chair next to him. As the train started off again the man jolted awake. Daniel offered the man a quick, po...
Weekly Contest #343
I was never meant to be there that morning. I usually avoid Mondays at the bank, too many people. Too much noise, but I’d been putting this off for too long, the cheque was burning a hole in my bedside table. It’s 2026, who still sends cheques? My auntie who despite constantly sharing drunk minion memes on Facebook, doesn’t trust the internet enough to send money online, that’s who. Inside, the air was musty, a mix of commercial carpet cleaner and something metallic, probably coins. I looked around out of boredom, there were two tellers open...
Weekly Contest #340
The taxi driver beeped the horn impatiently. He’d been working 9 hours, another 3am shift and this was his last fare before he went home to his one bedroom flat to a meal of cold pizza and warm beer before eventually falling asleep to a rerun of some Jean Claude Van Damme film he wasn’t really watching.He was meant to have finished his shift an hour ago, but dispatch had called in asking him to do one last job. He'd been working extra shifts to try and put some money aside to pay for his Mom's medical bills. She'd been ill lately and the cos...
Weekly Contest #339
The coffee shop was bustling the morning I first met Emily. It was a rainy Wednesday in February, and as I fought through the crowd of businessmen with their Bluetooth headsets and novice writers camped out with mocha lattes and dreams of the New York Times bestseller list, I saw her behind the counter. The air was thick with the smell of burnt coffee beans, frothy milk and baked goods, her mousy blonde hair was pulled back into a bun, freckles scattered across her face, dark brown eyes framed by steel-rimmed glasses. As I approached the cou...
Weekly Contest #338
When you see a dusty red book that has your name on the front with your birth and (what you assume to be) your death date, you have to open it, right? That’s what I did. Big mistake. This story begins in a library and ends, well, we’ll just have to find out together. I’ve not written it yet, and you’ve not read it, so no skipping to the end to find out. I went to the library because I wanted a new book to read. A Kindle is fine, but nothing beats feeling the paper on your fingers, smelling the ink, especially of older books and seeing the st...
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