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Weekly Contest #300
Going down fifteen more steps, you reach the end of the line. It looks like the end of the line, anyway, but you prefer to be sure: “Is this the end of the line?” “This is the end of the line, yes.” The one who answers you is a shrunken old lady who occupies two steps — her left foot on the top one, the right on the bottom one. “This is the end of the line, yes,” she says looking down, where the line makes a turn and disappears behind a wall. She then looks up and confirms that the line now ends with you. She slowly turns completely towards ...
Weekly Contest #123
It had been about an hour since the last guest arrived when the bell rang. The party had been very pleasant up to that point, even though Aunt Bea and Uncle Guy were in the same room. Jenna had been especially nervous about the two meeting up, ever since she drove Aunt Bea home last Christmas and heard her drunkenly whisper to herself that if she ever saw him again, she would shoot him right then and there. It could’ve been seen as an empty threat had we not witnessed when she pulled the steak knife on him after Matheo’s christening, three y...
Shortlisted for Contest #122 ⭐️
There was no knock on the door, no ring of the bell, only a message popping up on his phone screen: your package has been delivered. He hadn´t ordered anything. And yet, as he opened the front door of his apartment out of pure caution there it was — a tall and lean cardboard box with that easily recognizable smile printed on its sides. The corridor outside the apartment was quiet. There was no sound coming from the other sixteen units on his floor, and the automatic lights were only turned on from the elevator to the vicinity of his do...
Weekly Contest #78
The phone rang nine times before Clara could turn off the oven, wash her hands, dry them, and pick it up.“Clara, it’s me. We need to talk about something.”“Good morning to you too, Gerald.”“Sorry, sorry, good morning. Where are my manners? How have you been?”“I've been doing alright. A strange cough, but nothing that you need to worry about. How are you?”“Not so well, Clara. I mean, I'm good, but there's something that's not so good.”“What was it you wanted to talk about?”“It’s about Samantha. She called me last night, said I shouldn’t tell ...
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