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Weekly Contest #363
That morning Emmett Clark parked his black Model-T truck and stood at the edge of the remnants of Lake Wallace, a barren desert of cracked dirt and debris surrounded by distant plains and abandoned farms. Years of intense drought and over-farming of the prairie land had long ago drained the area of life-giving water that kept the nearby town of Eiden thriving, and now Emmett traversed the lifeless ground as a shortcut to save a few minutes getting into town. As he walked, he heard the loud taunting yips of the coyotes and saw the sun slowly ...
Weekly Contest #358
When they found me slumped over the curb outside the old Ranger Inn, I had been drinking all night. I did so, not because of some sad yearning for the past or to cope with some insufferable reality, but to celebrate. I drank because hammering down copious shots of bourbon is the degenerative and destabilizing way I chose to celebrate the relief of knowing that I was finally done with this life. The small rural town of Rawlins, Wyoming was not an easy place to grow up. A desolate, arid place, it offered very little for the few who chose to ...
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