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Weekly Contest #131
She looks like the lady from the Klimt painting. No, not that painting. The one with the fan. Sooty bay curls caressing rose petal cheeks, imperious brows that rise and fall on the tides of conversation. Her eyes are so like rootbeer I wanna stick a straw in them and take a sip. And that mouth. It's at the upturned corners, where I know a million secrets linger, that I want to kiss. She's the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, and I might even tell her so if her boyfriend would shove off for half a second. We're in room 264 of the Cla...
Weekly Contest #130
The Great Conjunction, Jupiter and Saturn – December 21, 2020 I hug my elbows tight into my sides and slide my hands as deep into my pockets as they'll go. It's freezing tonight. “I think it should be acclimated by now. We can start with the globular cluster in Lepus if you want,” he says. I laugh. “You always start with the globular cluster in Lepus.” It's an eight-inch Dobsonian telescope, no frills, nothing fancy. Except the tube, which is a deep metallic red and glitters softly in the corner of our bedroom when it's not under the...
Shortlisted for Contest #129 ⭐️
December 12th, 1692 To Father Eusebio Francisco Kino: The Cañada del Oro is rightly named, glory be to God. The placer has pointed our direction and we begin our journey up and into the belly of the mountain. The burros complain terribly, but not so loudly as the novitiates. The Papago peoples, of whom our apostolate counts some small number, are silent and strong in their ascent. They are possessed of a God-given sure-footedness that is the envy of burro and novitiate alike. Perhaps they are part bighorn sheep. We have made camp along...
Weekly Contest #128
Darragh Dunne had an impish Irish smile and mirthful Irish eyes. He had a fine Irish temper, too, but you couldn't see that on the wallet-sized memorial cards they handed out at the funeral. Alive or dead, the fact remained that nearly every memorable characteristic Darragh possessed – physical, mental, emotional, spiritual – was attributed to his Irishness, and this despite the fact he was three generations removed from the Emerald Isle. In truth of fact, he was from Long Island and decidedly more molded by that heritage than his great-gran...
Weekly Contest #127
[Sensitive content: Contains scenes of death] If I told you it had all been a lie, would you believe me? “The future, she is fickle.” That's how I'll usually start with a new client. It's important for them to know she can change her mind on a whim. Also that she's a she. The “she” is important. It makes it seem like I have a real relationship with her. Then I'll remind them that in this great oneness, this vast, vibrating universe in which all the pieces are connected, no divinity owns our sovereignty. We are both creation and co-creato...
Weekly Contest #126
The night is quiet and their breath circles over them in halos as Jennifer and Phil walk arm in arm down the dimly lit street. With Phil's move behind him and the rush of Christmastime in the rearview, they decide, just once, to forget that they are running late. They walk slowly, savoring the sharp smells of winter and wood fires. A light snow falls - enough to cover the ugly brown plow tailings but not enough to deter evening drivers, who wend their way through the greeting card scene. “I never understood what Lucy meant about December s...
Weekly Contest #125
[Contains brief violence and fictionalized accounts of slavery and misogyny] It didn't take long for them to reach Bur-al-Mahdi. Careful star mapping pointed the direction, and by the grace of cool desert nights the journey was over in just three moons. But the journey was never going to be the hard part; convincing Pash Fazim to relinquish his claim on Jena was the task they all dreaded. Pash Fazim was a slight man with skin like wetted cowhide and tight, white curls. His eyes were rheumy but the color of cut emeralds, and because o...
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