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Submitted to Contest #290
Adina didn't understand why Kamin made her fingertips tingle or her breath hitch before she spoke. It was a mystery, and an odd one at that. Although it didn’t bother her physically, it did deter her from reaching their target in the allotted time and often proved a distraction.Today was no different. Kamin was on watch duty as always, blowing the smoke of his cigarette against the brisk winter winds, his leather-studded jacket hugging snugly against his body. His stance was casual, leaning against the brick wall like he didn’t have a care i...
Submitted to Contest #276
We met online, which is what I usually tell people when they ask. Most people are content with that answer, but a curious few will prod and ask more questions, like "Was it tinder or plenty of fish?"And then I'll sigh, look off into the distance as if remembering a romantic first date, look at the questioner with sincerity and say,"I hopped into a party chat, and he was in it."Eyes usually widen at this, and nine times out of ten, they have no clue what I mean. Maybe they'll place a hand underneath their chin, begging for me to elaborate&nbs...
Submitted to Contest #274
Author's note: The event of this story is true and happened to my parents when we visited Vietnam in 2006. Names have been changed for privacy.****I heard the knife before ever seeing it. The sound it made cut through the quiet night, sharp and clean. Sleep was settled in my bones, invisible strings tugging my eyelids, and I struggled to fight it—but something in my guts screamed at me to wake. I ripped the strings and opened my eyelids— rubbing at the blurriness.Strange noises teetered at the edge of my awareness, but lucidity hadn’t found ...
Submitted to Contest #271
The sea of darkness glimmered like black onyx, silent against a full, oblong moon. To the east, an autumn draft stirred. Footsteps scuttled about like the mice, scavenging their next meal as heads bobbed and weaved over the side of the barque cargo ship, straining for a glimpse of the obscurity below— a woman, clinging to a sliver of driftwood, her knuckles bone white, gently rocking to the cradle of waves against the lullaby of the sea. As they hoisted her stiff body upwards, her arms and legs dangled limply; like a rag doll, pick...
Submitted to Contest #269
TW- War, violence, blood.Note: Inspired by my father-in-law's recounting*Yae-grandmother " This belonged to my Yae," my grandmother coos as she threads the heirloom around my neck, "Now, it's yours, Lee." The jade Buddha rests coolly against my heated midsummer skin. I memorize the graceful lines on my Yae's face, a smile blossoming across my lips. The crinkles framing her eyes deepen when she returns the gesture. "It's my good luck charm, may it bring you good fortunes, my child."The memory of my Yae makes my heart sink as I rest on the bar...
Submitted to Contest #268
TW- violence, mentions of self-harm.I could hear the raindrops pitter patter against the plexiglass window of my rental apartment, the half-eaten risotto takeout was starting to harden. It's been three months since I moved here. The plumbing is crap, there's a leak in the ceiling, and the landlord is a total cunt, but my work needs to be done. I took out my phone to check the time-9:45 PM.It's almost time.Cynthia Lewis always leaves her house at exactly 10:15 every evening. I know this because I watch her. She kisses Jason, her husband, who ...
TW: Substance abuse, eating disorder, hints of DV. In biology 101, we learned about dopamine receptors, our feel-good hormones. Millions of those things are activated when we play games, use social media, and drugs. Now I'm curious—how many dopamine receptors will fire when I eat this jelly donut?The shiny, glazed pastry stares back at me from my desk , pencil spinning between my fingers, a rare positive trick I learned from dad. I suppose homework could be done after I eat. I can't think when I'm craving. It's only my second one, the first ...
Submitted to Contest #267
In some forgotten corner of the world, squeezed between bakeries, bookshops, and premium cafes, lies Bill’s auto mechanic shop. Across the cobblestone road from Bill’s is a peculiar floral shop owned by Leena. Her dark licorice hair and wine-colored lips demand a second glance. Leena’s voice is melancholy when she speaks, hiding her secrets behind gentle smiles. The townspeople often spoke of her enigmatic beauty and her strangely eternal blooms.Roses were by far Leena’s favorite flower. The soft petals and sharp stems reminded Leena of hers...
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