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Weekly Contest #347
Margaret Stork JFK - LHR 20:45 7F The boarding pass lay on the table beside an empty wine glass. “Yes, yes, Claire.” Maggie tipped back the last of the wine. “Of course I’m going.” She twisted a strand of hair around her fingers until it hurt. “Please. Just tell Mom I’m coming.” She stood, pinning the phone between her shoulder and jaw, and crossed to the counter. The screen went dark. The boarding pass wrinkled in her fist. “Just the wine?” Maggie nodded, already handing over a bill. Back at the table, she poured the wine into the glass. ...
Weekly Contest #346
The ice is white and opaque on the surface, like packed snow floating in my whiskey. Harsh as life. As the blunt and final chance she gave me. It’s transparent where it meets the honey-colored liquid. Like a promise of soothing heat down my throat. A devil’s promise that’s most attractive just because it’s true. At a cost. My heart starts to pound. She must be waiting for me to call. She’s warned me. And this time she means it. “Road’s closed till tomorrow,” the barman announces. Murmurs rise around the room, broken now and then by complaint...
Weekly Contest #339
The terrace of that café was always in the shade. The winter sun lit the tables on the other side of the street, but no one here seemed to mind. At that hour, the shade was enough. He sat at the same table as always. The waiter passed by, dressed as if the cold didn’t fully apply to him, his tray full of glasses and cups. From his table, Mount Teide was visible between buildings, clear and unmoving. When the waiter returned, he was already carrying the barraquito and set it down in front of him. “Good to see you,” he said. The table wobbled,...
Weekly Contest #338
She walks the streets without hurry. It has become her habit now: to leave time unused, to let it pool before something happens. The pavement is still damp from a morning rain that never quite decided to fall, and the air smells faintly metallic - the scent of a city that has already been handled too much today. She looks around, letting the pace guide her steps. A building to her right draws her attention at once. She stops and looks up. The sign by the door is the only invitation she needs. She has not entered a place like this in years. S...
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