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Submitted to Contest #268
“Bless me Father for I have sinned,” said the boy. “This is my first confession.”There was a brief pause, during which the boy wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers and stole a glance at the screen to his right, though he could not see the priest on the other side, and realized with a pang of despair that he had left the sheet Ms Waters had given him with the words on it on the bus. He shut his eyes and tried to run through the sequence of lines as when they had to recite poems in class, but the prosaic terrain lacked the steadiness of vers...
Submitted to Contest #179
I stood with my hands in my pockets on the shore of the frozen lake where we used to walk. The sun was weak, watery. It drifted on its low December path, inching towards the horizon, hesitant to say goodbye to the year. I was alone. She had died yesterday. The air stung my eyes. They were painfully dry, shamefully dry. My nose had been numb for at least half an hour, but I didn’t shiver. The cold was a sedative. The world was peacefully lifeless, as if it had died in its sleep. The solemn sun fell further into dusk. When its ...
Submitted to Contest #144
Taking a photograph of an invisible dragon is proving to be more difficult than I expected. You would think that the invisibility aspect would be the glaring obstacle in this puzzle, but Daisy takes care of that issue herself, with the help of the vast, muddy bog she seems to use as a home, a playground and a bath. Daisy is the dragon’s name, or at least it that is the name I have given her. She hasn’t heard it. I know that Daisy is a ‘she’ because of the eggs. Five speckled turquoise eggs, basketball sized, lie far ...
Submitted to Contest #141
The first ever review of my restaurant still hangs on the kitchen wall, a little crooked, right inside the entrance. I can look at it every time I come to work. In fact, it’s hard not to look at it. I made sure it’s as in your face as possible when you walk in the kitchen doorway, the heading leaping at your eyes right after the smells of the day’s cooking flood into your nose. It hangs on a small plastic hook in a cheap wooden frame. The ink has faded slightly since the day I cut it out from the local newspaper, but...
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