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Weekly Contest #210
"I feel like we won't go on vacation again this year," the woman said, standing by the stove and promptly flipping the smoky piece of toast. Her son, a little boy who appeared to be about nine years old, was poking his porridge with a spoon, nudging a piece of melting butter that glided across the sticky surface like a small edible ship. "Let's not talk about that in the morning. Okay?" the man in a white t-shirt with a telescope print said, grabbing his son's hand abruptly. "Come on, stop that. Eat faster, or you'll be late for your first l...
Weekly Contest #209
"Look, Daddy, look!" The girl in the pink sundress points her finger at a deer that has just disappeared behind the trees. "Daddy, was that a dog?" Teia asks, bursting into wild laughter at her own question. "No, sweetheart, that was a deer." "I'm a little deer," Alexa says, placing two index fingers against her forehead, demonstrating imaginary antlers to confirm her words. Teia smiles uncertainly and asks, "Daddy, are there many deer here?" "Well, we have at least one in our car," the father replies, nodding towards Alexa, then continues, ...
Weekly Contest #208
The dolls Mr. Eddie Todd was a man of average intellect, a kind family man, one of those who married late because he had never shown the necessary determination in this matter. To be honest, he had never considered the institution of marriage to be something so significant as to invest time in. A diligent student in high school, one of the few who didn't try smoking weed in college, he quickly lost his drive for life and career ambitions, replacing them with leisurely lunches and hanging out with friends. In the last years of his family li...
Weekly Contest #207
"Stop! Cut!," loudly and authoritatively commanded the man in a multicolored polo shirt, dark green shorts, with a sparse red beard on his flat, yellow face, and the same rare hairs on his head, gathered at the edges of his skull: behind his ears and at the back of his head in the shape of a horseshoe. He quickly jumped out of his folding chair, paying no attention to the crowd: the lighting crew, costume designers, and makeup artists. He approached the man lying on the decorated stage floor amidst sharp stones and fake snow, dressed in full...
Weekly Contest #203
David gazed at Rachel with oily eyes, a mix of surprise and complete absence of fear and shame, as if he were not caught red-handed with his young mistress, a thin girl who appeared so to Rachel at the time. There was no remorse or regret in his gaze, which hurt the woman standing in the doorway, waiting for that absurd justification, confession, revelation. But there was nothing but silence and occasional sobs from that wretched whore, who had shattered the already cracked vessel of their marital happiness. Perhaps in such situations, somet...
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