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Weekly Contest #377
Sensitive content: implied suicide, implied sexual abuse, gore. They said the ghoulhunters were saviors. Guides for the dead to a peaceful afterlife. As always, they were wrong. The streets didn’t quite have sun anymore, blocked out by the towering buildings of black that intertwined like a tree canopy. The smooth, glassy substance the buildings were built with gleamed at the top, but were dirtied and stained with piss where the few remaining people walked. Lola walked, her earpiece blaring a melancholy tune, her hood cloaking her face. Wit...
Mom (Madeline) A short story by Isabel B. Lesher Like every morning, the pain of last night had faded, and there was work to do. Instead of the bed, I was lying on the basement couch. To my right, a can of vomit, tinted with blood. Too damn tired to care, I averted my gaze. The dust-covered fireplace held only three things– my mother’s urn, a pile of bills, and the clock that read 4:52, which meant it was 4:59. I never did wind it. If I had screamed for help every time I felt like I was dying, my voice would go raw. So, I didn’t. I had snuc...
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