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Weekly Contest #280
“Well… I mean this, Jim. I mean, I don’t know what I want to say. I want to say that. And I wanna say something else—that this stuff makes me funny… makes me feel funny… like my feet, Jim. Look at ‘em. I see my feet and legs and hands and arms leading up to my body and neck and it keeps going up and up into what you says is my head, but I don’t feel nothin’… And look at all these colors! Are you seeing this? Please say something. Cause if it’s not really there then I oughta get to worrying, eh Jim?... I’m hallucinating rain.” “It’s raining.”...
Weekly Contest #277
Early mornings, well before his father’s shift, a posse of trucks and trailers would park outside the breeding shed. Billy had no interest in what went on, other that the fact that it woke him up. So, he watched. The trucks would sit there—their heavy idle engines humming—until the driver side door opened, initiating the same series of events. The big door off the back peeled open, falling hard, it’s hinges whining, then out comes a very small man with a rope attached to a horse. They’d clamber ...
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