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Weekly Contest #96
This story is inspired by the true story of Julia ‘Butterfly’ Hill.CW: a bit of language************************************He said you were a willful child. Homeschooled in a thirty five foot camper van, a daughter bookended by sons. You explored the campsites, ran barefoot through silvery streams, hefted firewood, and scaled the most lithe of limbs. When you were six, a butterfly, iridescent as the eye of a peacock feather, perched on your finger during a family hike, and lingered the entire afternoon. You were Julia ...
Weekly Contest #82
I hesitate, dangling the robotic vacuum over the gaping mouth of my thirteen gallon garbage bin. As a homesteader and self professed crunchy mom, I detest the wastefulness of discarding an entire small appliance, yet that’s not it. I’ve already removed the lithium battery for recycling. The motor, which smells faintly of burnt hair, is beyond repair. Bits of gummy raisins have fossilized in the treads. It’s so old the company stopped manufacturing replacement parts ages ago; I checked. So why ...
Weekly Contest #75
I exit onto the third floor, faking a conversation on my cell phone until key meets lock. The heavy door clicks behind me. Nine a.m. is too early to exchange cheerful pleasantries in my book, especially right after the holidays. It’s more small talk than I can survive sober. No wife, no kids, no fur baby photos to pull up on my phone. I’m relegated to talking about the weather.A belated Christmas gift is waiting for me on the corner of my desk. A navy blue tumbler, complete with flexible...
Weekly Contest #74
“It’s showtime!” The doctor addresses my room. He adjusts the cuffs of his long gloves, kicks up a heel and glides over to me. The stool stops squarely between my stirrups. To my left, a monitor has been tracing peaks, plateaus, and valleys for hours. They print out in real time, the paper opening up like a bellows on it’s slow descent to the floor. On impact, it neatly manages to put itself back together again in a little stack. My body is thankfully numb to the reams of pain, but not the pressure of this new life. My mind is too, I think. ...
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