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When I opened my eyes, a half-naked man stared down at me through a ceiling mirror clouded with smoke. For several seconds, neither of us moved. His face hovered above mine in fractured panels, doubled at the seams and blurred by nicotine, dust, and fingerprints. The light was bad—yellow from a bedside lamp, white from the bathroom—but I could see the damage. It took me a moment to understand that he was me. No shirt. No pants. Black silk briefs and nothing else. My lower lip had swollen into a purple lump. Blood ran from a split above my ey...
In the winter of ’58, before cell phones and DirecTV, Elisabeth O’Connell jolted awake at the first whisper of morning light. Sometimes the moon lingered—a faint blue stamp pressed against the darkness—but when the sun broke through, pale and sharp, she was always waiting. She bounced down the chilly hallway, each floorboard creaking with her step, flannel pajamas swishing softly, and paused at the old coat rack. She listened, heart fluttering, for the gentle hum of rubber tires on fresh snow, the familiar clank of glass. She slipped dow...
Weekly Contest #295
MOUNT DISAPPOINTMENT Nobody tells you how the mountain got its name. Not the realtors, that's for damn sure. Some poor schmucks hauled themselves up there in 1875, thinking they'd claimed the highest peak in the area. Must've felt real smart until they saw the actual summit peeking over, like the mountain itself was giving them the finger. I stood in the Toners' driveway at ten PM, freezing my ass off with another love letter from Christina’s lawyer burning a hole in my pocket—the third one this week, still sealed. The first two had be...
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