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Weekly Contest #369
The dress hangs on the closet door where I can see it from the bed, and I’ve been staring at it for the better part of an hour without actually seeing it at all. My shoes are still in their box by the dresser. The jewelry Vinny's mother lent me for my something borrowed sits in a small velvet tray on top of the dresser, catching what little light comes through the blinds. My suitcase is half packed on the chair, a sweater draped over the edge of it, and everything in this room is arranged around the fact that tomorrow I am getting married, a...
Weekly Contest #363
The sky was still dark when Clara stole his cap. Elias had set it on the dock post for just a moment, and when he turned back, she was wearing it, that crooked grin on her face like she'd gotten away with something. "Give it back," he said. "Make me." "Clara." She laughed, that full-throated sound that had been waking him up for thirty years, and pulled the cap down over her ears. It was too big on her. Everything he owned was too big on her. She looked ridiculous and beautiful and he wanted to kiss her, but his hands were full of net and th...
Weekly Contest #361
The salt air hit me before I even rolled down the windows. Some kind of muscle memory my lungs had developed over sixteen summers of making this drive. The beach road curved ahead, familiar as my own handwriting. I was excited, but underneath it, something sat heavy in my chest, like swallowing stones. The blue beach house appeared around the final bend. Hydrangeas blooming purple against the porch. I pulled in and sat for a moment, breathing. Grandma was already on the porch, wiping her hands on a dishtowel, smiling that smile that made her...
Weekly Contest #360
My phone rings. I know the number before I look. Six years. Every call from this hospital has sounded exactly the same—clinical updates, medication adjustments, insurance questions. The rhythm of a life suspended. I stare at the screen. My hand won't move. "Mom, the phone is ringing," Dashell calls from the kitchen. "I know, baby." My thumb hovers over the green button. The cereal box rustles. A spoon clinks against ceramic. Normal sounds. A normal morning. Except this doesn't feel normal. I answer. "Hello?" My voice comes out smaller than I...
Weekly Contest #357
First Saturday I don't want to be here. I park at the curb and stare at the slip of paper my guidance counselor gave me. One stupid decision. One spray-painted wall behind the gym. Twenty hours of community service. The edges of the paper are already soft from being folded and unfolded too many times. Community Service Hours: 20 Remaining. Apparently the school had some partnership program with elderly residents who needed help. Maggie was my assignment—I got to choose between this or picking up trash on the highway. Twenty hours of my life,...
I haven’t slept properly in weeks. Three in the morning finds me staring at my phone, scrolling through unanswered texts to Eloise. The last one I sent was two days ago. Me: We have to get this done and that won’t happen if you don’t talk to me. The read receipt shows she saw it. But no response. I toss the phone onto the nightstand harder than I mean to. It skitters across the surface and falls to the floor with a crack that makes me wince. I don’t pick it up. Instead, I lie back and stare at the ceiling, replaying the scene in the lawyer’s...
Weekly Contest #356
This story contains themes of child neglect, addiction, grief, family trauma, and discussions of custodial responsibility. Patricia is explaining something about temporary placement and emergency custody, her voice steady and professional, but I keep losing the thread. She has forms spread across the dining room table and Luke is nodding, asking questions about the next steps, but my attention keeps fracturing. Eli is in the living room. I can see him from where I'm sitting. He’s on the floor near the couch, legs crossed, with the coloring b...
Weekly Contest #347
A consistent beeping calls me back to consciousness. I slowly open my eyes, staring up at bright lights that blind me, and I snap them shut again. "East?" My mother's worried voice reaches me. "Easton, open your eyes." I blink against the light. I try to swallow but it burns. I try to move my arm to rub my neck, but it won't move. My heart starts pounding, panic creeping up my chest. My mother's hand grasps my arm. "Deep breaths, baby," she whispers. I take a staggered breath and try to calm myself. I open my mouth to ask what happened, but ...
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