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Weekly Contest #351
My name is Orla Rose, and I was born in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, to a mother who made too much of me and a father who hardly made anything at all. I suppose Daddy helped in the ordinary sense. I got his dark hair and the quick flare of my temper, and maybe the shape of my feet. But when I think on who made me, really made me, I think of my mother. She made my face by looking at it. She made my manners by correcting them. She made my fears by pressing them into me careful as hems. She made my life out of coupons and double shifts and hands tha...
Weekly Contest #343
The light is red. She has been sitting long enough for the air conditioning to turn from comfort into exposure. The cold air slides along the backs of her arms and lingers there, touching skin she is aware of even when no one else is. The seatbelt lies diagonally across her torso, pressing into the soft center of her stomach. When she inhales, it tightens; when she exhales, it settles deeper, as though it prefers her smaller. She knows there will be a mark when she unbuckles. There is always a mark. It will fade in a few minutes. Most things...
Winner of Weekly Contest #339 š
[Online Order #32249 LARGE Iced Americano. EXTRA Mint syrup]Ronny sighed, staring at the mobile ticket printer spewing sticker after sticker with the obscene confidence of something that would never need to stretch its wrists or call out sick. The tickets came out as warm, adhesive-backed little decrees, other peopleās desires rendered legible, monetizable, and, for the most part, stupid.It wasnāt that she didnāt like being a barista. She was grateful, in the way a person is grateful for oxygen: not sentimental, just aware of what it costs t...
Weekly Contest #334
I know what it sounds like, trust me, I do. Itās easy to paint me as a villain with glittering wings and guilty hands. Just another fairy who helped Peter take those innocent children. A small, unsuspecting monster wrapped in light. But things are never so clean in Neverland, itās not like I just woke up one morning craving screams.Itās not like I wanted to help Peter capture those children. And Iām not saying Iām addicted to fairy dust. Truly. I could stop whenever I want to. I just havenāt yet been quite ready to. Thereās a difference, and...
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