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Weekly Contest #362
Some days you need to take the stairs. That was June’s rule. Or maybe it was Harold’s. After 50 years together, it was impossible to remember which habits belonged to whom. Along the way, everything became theirs. She reached for the elevator button outside of her fourth-floor apartment and hesitated. Four flights weren’t impossible, no. But they were inconvenient enough to count as exercise when she was feeling particularly virtuous. Some days you need to take the stairs, she reminded herself. She considered this thought for exactly on...
Weekly Contest #360
Sizzle. Ding. Brew. The soundtrack of the Crossroads Cafe. Sat stubbornly on the edge of Route 66, the Crossroads Cafe was a postcard of the American West. Its orange facade, faded from the ruthless sun, camouflaged with the Arizonan sandstones that lined the iconic highway. A beat pickup and a single Harley rested in the cracked, gravel parking lot, coated in a sprinkle of desert grit. Inside, a bitter stench of coffee beans twirled with the tang of sun-baked vinyl from the cracked red booths. A jukebox tucked in the corner played half-f...
Weekly Contest #359
The sleepy town of Holbrook has all but woken up. Eight murders in two months. All stabbings. All committed on Saturday nights. The media eagerly christened this string of killings “The Saturday Slashings”. All but one member of the media who found the name uninspired and predictable: Oliver Darnell. At first, he was completely uninterested in the story and the frenzy that had turned this small New England town into the lead story on every evening broadcast from Boston to Baltimore. Yet now, Oliver finds himself one-and-a-half black ...
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