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Weekly Contest #345
**This story is a work of fiction. It contains descriptions of violence and mental health struggles. However, the themes of feeling isolation and the PTSD our veterans endure are all too real. I wrote this piece to give a voice to the silent struggles many of our Veterans face daily and endure.** Sam had been back in the “real world” for a few months now. He still walked with the cadence of someone on constant high alert. For Sam, every sound, every gesture someone makes, pulls at his gut. Is it a threat, was that a gunshot, is that person...
Weekly Contest #342
Jack sat on his front porch, gently rocking in his wicker rocking chair. A tall glass of iced tea sat on the side table next to him, sweating in the early summer evening. The sky was a kaleidoscope; the deep blue of the afternoon melted into a wash of reds and yellows. A cool breeze danced across the perspiration on Jack’s forehead, a comforting relief on a warm summer’s day. It was sixty years ago when the world had shifted on its axis — the end of summer just before their first year of high school. They had met in grade school, and from th...
Weekly Contest #340
Thomas sat at the desk in his dark room, his desk lamp the only thing fighting back the darkness. The paper in his typewriter, blank, void of the words staring back at him. He leaned back in his chair, resting one arm on its armrest while he spun a pencil in his other hand. Writers block had taken hold of him, his deadline marching closer with each tick of the clock on his wall. Frustrated, he slammed the pencil to his desk and let out a long sigh. A flash lit his room from his office window, a storm had rolled in while he stared frustratedl...
Weekly Contest #339
He stood at the edge of the worn dock. Gazing into the dark lake, he watched his reflection wiggle, distort and warp his figure like a funhouse mirror. The setting sun's bright reddish-orange light reflected off the water and little waves. Carmen didn't know how he had come to be standing on the dock, or why he was there. Yet he felt like he was meant to be there, standing on that dock. A breeze rolled over the lake, skimming the surface of the water forming more little waves as it blew towards Carmen’s face. The cool breeze felt comforting ...
Weekly Contest #336
“Jimmi, you go that way around the right side of the building. I’ll swing left.” Wolf whispered as they crouched behind their sedan. He slid his pistol from its shoulder holster and gave Jimmi a nod. Together, they crept away from the car. Rain came down hard, washing filth from the sidewalk—and the blood of the two goons who had tried to ambush them minutes earlier. The neon sign above the Red Basket Club hummed, its red and blue glow shimmering across puddles and wet pavement as they split toward opposite corners of the building. Wolf pres...
Weekly Contest #332
Rune stood in the rain, enduring the cold, unrelenting pounding of water against his head and shoulders. It had been days of traveling through mountain passes, swamplands, and ancient, forgotten forests. Finally, he stood before the large wooden gates of Jalta. Its stone walls glistened, washed clean by the endless storm, while thunder reverberated through Rune’s chest and lightning gleamed off the wet ramparts.It was no mere chance he had come upon Jalta. The city had fallen silent, and he was sent to find the cause—and remove it. As he a...
Rune slowly opened the door to Faye's study within the Mages Guild. The heavy wooden door groaned as he pushed it into the room. "Faye?" he softly beckoned. "Are you in here?" Faye's study was a clutter of tomes, scrolls, and artifacts strewn across a huge, dark-colored oak table. She loved to read all the old tomes and the stories they held. This day she was not in her study; she had been down in the lower library grabbing some tomes about an ancient mage labyrinth. She was so consumed with her reading that she didn't see Rune standing i...
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