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Submitted to Contest #337
Audrey stands stationery on the school lawn while toddlers shout and swarm around her, playing a game that resembles tag. Her right hand absently scratches a knee through her threadbare black joggers and her left hand scrolls Instagram. She nudges her sunglasses up onto the bridge of her nose as her eyes rest on a photo of her college friends smiling around a dinner table. Their faces glow behind tastefully placed tea candles. ‘About last night,’ the caption reads. Audrey recognizes the tagged location’s name: a classic New York City steakho...
Submitted to Contest #335
“This is BS,” Tim insisted.Andrea looked up at him, shielding her eyes from the sun with her right hand. She rested her magazine in her lap, her bare legs outstretched on the chaise longue. She adjusted her bikini top; the string was digging into the delicate space between her neck and shoulder. “What’s going on?” she asked.He shook his head and pursed his lips into a thin line. His hands were in fists resting on his hips. “You know, the prime minister and all his security. It’s messing with my vacation vibes.”Yesterday, Holly, the director ...
Submitted to Contest #332
The pager rouses Alex from a dreamless sleep. He groans and rolls onto his side, the blazing overhead lights burning his retinas. He pulls the pager to his face and checks the time: 6:24 am. He then reads the words on the tiny screen: “Rm 728 asking for Tylenol, ok 2 order? Call back x9217”He lifts the receiver of the bedside phone and dials the number. “Doctor Jackson here, okay for Tylenol for room 728.” He rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands and sits up, his legs dangling off the side of the call room bed. He rakes his fingers throu...
Submitted to Contest #331
The last time I saw my Aunt Maggie was New Years’ Eve, 1999. I had just turned 10 a few weeks before that, and Aunt Maggie had joined us at our house for my birthday celebration. Up until then, I hadn’t seen much of Aunt Maggie; she “hadn’t been feeling well,” according to my mom. But after she left the party, my mom remarked that she had been “on her best behavior.” I had found it strange then to hear a grown-up talking about another grown-up like that. I had thought that only kids were instructed to be “on their best behavior,” like when a...
Submitted to Contest #330
Yellow leaves gently scattered from the top branches of the trees, like the last dregs of confetti that drop as revelers stagger home from a grand celebration. Vera sipped her coffee and watched the late afternoon sun toss a handful of glitter across the pond. This was her favorite part of the day: with Ed napping, she savored some serenity. Since his Alzheimer’s diagnosis two years ago, Ed had been restless and combative, his behavior worsening by the month. Vera had to strictly stay by his side, making sure he didn’t fuss too much, or try ...
Submitted to Contest #323
The sun has finally settled behind the buildings of Brooklyn, and the soft swirls of dusk have dissolved into the sharp black of a winter’s night. She climbs out of the tub, ensuring she’s brushed off all the soap suds. She dons her robe and combs her curls with care. Tonight, she skips the usual routine, makeup and lotion and perfume, those tiny bites of feminine delights. Instead, she clips each bare fingernail and files them to neat squares, taking time to even out the edges. She looks down at her toes: still spotless and unpolished from ...
Submitted to Contest #322
The heart lies still in the open chest. The surgeon looms over it, suture in his right hand, forceps in the left. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, his calves and thighs taut. He peers over his surgical mask at the paralyzed organ, that fist of muscle designed to deliver the ingredients of life. Right now, cardiopulmonary bypass supplies the oxygen, and he understands the ultimate goal: restore the vital organ, a hummingbird that knows only how to beat its wings ceaselessly. But today, he stands as frozen as the heart. His eye...
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