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Weekly Contest #90
Warning: this story involves domestic violence. The Oak’s Interaction with StephI really, really, have to go. My sweatpants are already damp from the little bit of pee that I was unable to control leaving my bladder, and I just hope that the seat of the camry isn’t going to smell like piss for the next month. Daryl, my husband of almost three years, would have a fit if he found out. I can’t believe he even let me go to visit my mom without him; I know how mad he gets when I go out on my own. And now I’m going to upset him more with my c...
Weekly Contest #84
I listened to my dad’s story for the 7th time. I sat down on the floor that was covered in a pile of masks - cushy cushy for the tushy, as he sang. His story followed: “The pandemic began with a seed. It was a seed that prospered in an old pot that I got from my mom when she was going through my Grandpa’s old stuff. It was this old porcelain thing, sturdy enough to grow whatever I put into it. As soon as I saw it, I knew it belonged on my studio’s dusty windowsill, next to my laundry basket where I threw my comfy pants that I wandered the ...
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