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Weekly Contest #117
TW: Cults, implied violence, vomit Everything was ready for the ritual. Motya, sitting in the front row, began to feel nauseous. “Tonight,” Father whispered from in front of them, “reach into your own chest. Wrap your fingers around your heart and sense its true desire.” In protest, Motya’s heart beat faster still. She could almost taste blood in her mouth, stinging her gums and tongue with its flavor. “Remember, brothers, our desire must be Christ and Christ alone,” Father continued, rising in volume. “We are weak, so weak, and we n...
Weekly Contest #110
Alex jolted awake when a loud truck engine screeched down the highway. His eyes opened and his fists clenched. He stared at the dirty ceiling of his backseat before sitting up slowly, his back cracking. Since he’d been asleep, the hint of sun disappearing into the west horizon had vanished completely. The only way anyone could see the road was the watery streetlights. The front seat in front of Alex was illuminated with orange light. He looked over and out of the windshield. He could see the bottom half of a neon sign. It said “Abram’s D...
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