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Submitted to Contest #336
Sarah ate her moo goo gai pan while the man lay dying on the floor. The stench of vomit hanging over the cramped kitchen ruined her appetite. Death was messier than the fantasy she had played out in her mind. She pushed the mushrooms to the side to save for her brother, an old habit that lingered despite his absence. Months of planning had led to this moment, but the satisfaction she was hoping for didn’t come. Sitting on a barstool in his tiny, shabby home, Douglas James Miller wasn’t the monster from her memories, only a fragile human bein...
Submitted to Contest #330
Mara couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment she fell out of love with her husband, Dan. Maybe it was watching him brush his teeth with his eyes squeezed tight, or the 13,849 time she picked up his dirty socks sitting just outside the edge of the hamper. Or maybe it didn’t happen in one moment, but in a thousand tiny ones; each minor infraction becoming a new tick on the wall of her marriage, a wall that felt more like a prison cell. She could leave. Maybe. But he was a good man. Her mom always said you don’t divorce someone unless they are hurti...
Submitted to Contest #329
The wind whipped the branches of the barren tree against the window, creating shadows on the wall that danced like claws. A fitting night for Elmer Corbett’s task at hand. At least the rain would keep away any unwanted visitors and obscure him from any prying eyes lurking in the darkness. If all went according to his plan, no one would ever know he had even been there. Luck hadn’t been on Elmer’s side recently, and counting on it was what had gotten him into this situation in the first place. He had reached the end of the line. Either he c...
Submitted to Contest #328
The edges of my mind feel fuzzy, like I can’t quite grasp the thoughts that are rushing past in my head. People are here now. Everyone is looking at me, like they want me to say something or do something, but I am not sure what. Everything aches, from the ends of my short gray hair to the tips of my fingers and toes. I glance briefly down at my hands, the skin is mottled with age spots and protruding veins, but something new too; a dark bruise where a needle is puncturing my skin. I hate needles. I don’t know many things at this moment, but...
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