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Weekly Contest #162
I’m in the kitchen, making turkey gumbo. It’s an old family recipe, meaning that it doesn’t really have an exact recipe. You need the basics: a good roux, seasonings you love, lots of meat. But the particulars are really up to you. Making a good gumbo is an adventure, an exercise in building something wonderful. Beyond the kitchen entry, a small crowd gathers in the dining room, sitting around the old table of dark wood, bearing the scuffs and scars of many years of use. The babble of conversation washes over me, but I don’t take part. It’s ...
Weekly Contest #160
I stand at the window of my small hut, staring at the tall hill that looms over the valley. It rises above me, covered in scrub brush and stunted, wind-twisted trees. A single path cuts to the top, stretches of bare, hard earth with worn stone steps carved into the steepest parts. It is a hard climb, even for a man unburdened. And every day I have carried water to the top. I don’t know quite what I feel when I look upon the hill, and think about what I do to earn a living. Do I resent it, resent my life? No. It is what I do. My place in the...
Weekly Contest #156
I’m lying in bed, staring into the eyes of the woman I love, wanting to stay there forever, but knowing that I’ll be gone soon. And I might never find my way back. I don’t know why it happens. I don’t know how long it’s been happening. But I just can’t stay fixed in reality, in the reality I want to be in. I move through space and time, or whatever, unfixed, bouncing across and between the possible realities. It happens frequently, without any warning. For the longest time, I didn’t have any hope, any reason to think I’d ever live a normal l...
Weekly Contest #149
“Thank you all for being here tonight,” I say, smiling over the tips of my steepled fingers. “You are in for a special treat.”Outside of our table, nestled in a dark corner, the tavern is doing a brisk business, crowded with an eclectic collection of beings, all of them intent on making as merry as they can. Coin and drink flow freely, laughter and curses ring out in equal measure, and the smell of strong ale and roasting meat permeates the air.“What are we doing here, Maziroth?” asks Arakon, the heavily built human warrior shifting his weig...
Weekly Contest #147
“Well, that was terrible,” he says, leaning back in his seat, as the screen fades to black, leaving the theater in darkness. “Absolutely,” she agrees, shaking her head. “What were they thinking, releasing another rom com with that same, tired formula.” “Same old tropes, same old plot twists, no effort to be fresh or imaginative. The entire story was so utterly predictable. Boy meets girl, boy fights with girl, boy makes up with girl. Happily ever after.” She laughs. “Perfect summary. I couldn’t have said it better. And how about those charac...
Weekly Contest #142
“It isn’t silence that bothers me. It’s the noise.” “Why is that?” “Because it usually means something’s gone wrong.” The man sitting across the table from me gives me a look, like he’s still wondering whether to believe me or not. This interview has lasted for hours, and it isn’t the first one I’ve been through. “I’m sorry this process is so involved,” he says, as if sensing my thoughts. “But you have to understand the gravity of the situation, the importance of this job. It isn’t an exaggeration to say that the future of mankind might dep...
Weekly Contest #137
The first thing I notice about the man who walks into my bar is his watch. It’s a model I’ve never seen before, a lot larger than usual. Curiously, it doesn’t show the time. The numbers on its face are counting down, and there are only a few minutes left. He slips onto a stool with a sigh. “Hit me again, Jim.” I frown, confused. I know I get a lot of regulars in here, but I don’t recognize this guy. How does he know my name? But, hey, he’s a customer, my first of the young day. “What can I get you?” I ask, setting a bowl of nuts and a cock...
Weekly Contest #133
“Hey, Babe, look at this.” I glance up, sweaty and flushed, to see my wife holding up a heart-shaped box, colored a sparkly red with some kind of fancy writing on it. It’s the sort of thing you find lining shelves during the build-up to Valentine’s Day. To me, it’s another distraction, and just what we don’t need. “Could you maybe just toss it in the trash can?” I say, gesturing at the mess around us. “We’re kinda busy here.” We’ve been at this for hours now, rummaging around in Grandpa’s attic, trying to sort out the junk from the stuff wo...
Weekly Contest #130
The door has always been there. It was in my earliest memories, even though I didn’t realize it until much later. Made of smooth, dark wood, set with a heavy knob of old brass with a large keyhole beneath it, the door was like something from an old, spooky house, right down to how it made me feel every time I saw it. My first clear recollection of the door was at my third birthday party. I guess that was when I first really noticed how odd it was. It was hard to focus on anything for long at that age, especially with a roomful of toddlers sm...
Weekly Contest #126
“Well, Happy New Year!” yells the old man sitting at the bar, turning his shaggy, white-haired head towards the doorway. I look up from wiping at the countertop to see the last one walk in. A glance at the clock on the wall show it’s only a few minutes to midnight. He’s running late. But then, when isn’t he? The new arrival gives the old man an irritated glare. He has the features of a young man, but his face is etched by deep frown lines across his forehead and at the corners of his eyes and mouth. “Give me a break. You know as well as I d...
Weekly Contest #124
“I can’t believe you made me a dog.” Ryber glanced down at the small animal padding along beside him. “A puppy, Griss. Not a dog.” “But why?” the puppy asked, his tone that of an exasperated man, for all that he looked like a little beagle. “I had everything ready for the Delve. All my gear and weapons. Now I don’t even have hands.” He lifted a paw. “I told you why,” Ryber said. “In your true form, you’re a hulking, bearded, scarred pirate. If the subject saw you coming, you’d scare him awake, rules of the game notwithstanding. Besides, gear...
Weekly Contest #119
It’s the sounds I notice first.The beep of machines, the low hiss of air through ventilation ducts, the muffled thumps of footsteps nearby.It’s like I’m aware, but I’m not awake.It’s strange. I can feel a mattress under me, a needle sticking into my arm, the warm, dry air of wherever I am.But I don’t know where I am or how I got here. Suddenly worried, I try to open my eyes. They won’t open. I try to lift my arms, to touch my face. They won’t move. Now I’m afraid.  ...
Weekly Contest #116
It's when I see the look on her face that I realize the mistake I’ve made. Ten days of hiding it, and every minute it was like I’d stabbed her in the back, and she just hadn’t felt it yet. But when we wake up from the first sleep cycle, alone on a spaceship hurtling through the void between stars, I can’t take it any longer. So, I tell her. Only it isn’t really ten days later. It’s nearly ten years. The first segment of our transport mission is 2,847 days. Then we come out of cryostasis, with seven days to perform maintenance. Then...
Weekly Contest #112
When I first see the old man, he’s lying in bed, watching the falling rain. His room Shady Grove Elder Care Facility is small, the bed placed so it faces the room’s only window. Fat raindrops strike the glass in a rhythmic cadence, sliding down, leaving meandering trails that cast strange shadows across the gloomy space. The nurse puts a hand on my arm, stopping me in the doorway. “Just a warning,” she says. “Bob Mitchell is a… special case.” “Special?” I already don’t want to be here, and now it sounds worse than I expected. “How?” “W...
Weekly Contest #57
“Most people just like to leave their kids money.” The old man looks up at me, blinking rheumy eyes. “Don’t I know it,” he says. “My father left me a fortune, and look what I did with it.” I arch an eyebrow. “The way I see it, you’ve done a lot of good with what you were given.” I certainly won’t object to his spending preferences. “Oh, too little...
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