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Weekly Contest #348
Aiden raced across the field of war, kicking clods of mud in his wake. The servos in his enhanced knee joints screamed under the pressure of his pace and strain creaked through the steel rods that strengthened his leg bones. His breath came ragged and his throat was hoarse. The optimised oxygen dispersal of his lungs and enforced muscles of his heart could only do so much under the exertion. All of it was regulated by the control unit embedded in his right forearm, which flashed incessantly in warning. None of Aiden’s revolutionary augmentat...
Weekly Contest #347
My phone rattled its shrapnel hammer, waking me like a shot to the heart. I was vertical and lifting the cold receiver well before the fog of sleep had even begun to recede, my body autonomous without the burden of a waking mind. Words uttered in a tired monotone down the wire dragged me to full consciousness. I heard a familiar phrase repeated for yet another rendition. The one that had plagued the entirety of my living memory. “Hey, Banner,” Detective Wright mumbled, “It’s about your father…” I pulled the collar of my coat high and tucked...
Weekly Contest #343
Normality is safe. There is nothing wrong with enjoying the comfort and reassurance birthed by a familiar existence. Leslie sank into that feeling of contentment without reservation. She basked in the warmth of it, while settling into her metal chair. Bathed in its steam and ready to indulge in the weekly offering of spaghetti and garlic bread, she took a deep breath and felt her body melt. Every Wednesday, since before she could remember, she had enjoyed the hot bowl of red sauce that allowed her to shake off the mid-week slump that inevita...
Weekly Contest #342
15th February, 1781 London, England Dearest Son, I am writing to you because it is unlikely the span of our lives will intersect. The physicians tell me I will not be gifted the months to see you born. The sorrow of that haunts me and I worry ceaselessly for your mother’s grief-torn heart. Yet my hope is that these letters, written by my own hand, will impart some of who I was to your future being. I refuse to expense the ink by wallowing in the tragedy of our circumstance. Instead, I plan to devote these many volumes to your education, ad...
Weekly Contest #341
Wallace spied through a narrow slot in the thick metal door. His eyes strained as they roved from one side to the other, trying to get a glimpse of his new surroundings. His cheek stung when it touched the cold metal, and his palms pressed against the smooth bolt heads that dotted the locked barricade. He could almost see to the end of the empty, concrete lane and counted five doors, just like his, on the far wall. All grey. All locked. Everything in sight was built angled and hard. Except for the identical slot opposite his. It was open. So...
Weekly Contest #338
Trigger warning: Suggestions of abuse. The instantly recognisable creak of old timber announced a new arrival through the doors of Bay City Library. My library. I had thought of it as my possession since the day budget cuts left me as its sole custodian. A decision based on how few visitors ever arrived in today’s age of instant information. I put aside the stack of old tomes I was defacing with fresh branding stickers, mandatory from the council to keep someone else in a job, and stood to greet my rare guest. “…Can I come in here?” The you...
Weekly Contest #337
I have always been most capable of building beauty. Born with sparse little of my own, being crooked of nose and calloused of palm, I suppose I find myself more diligent in forging perfection. I chose my canvas early and marked it as life itself. Using my hands I delighted in carving landscapes and gardens into tightly cut lines and painting the results with flowering colour. Working and training every moment of my young life, I mastered the wildness of the world and tamed it to be pleasing to the eye. Roses have always been my favourite. So...
Weekly Contest #335
Johnny sighted along the sleek lines of black metal resting comfortably in his gloved hand. He followed the barrel down, bringing into sharp focus a scattering of poor souls, quivering on the ground at its end. He made sure to keep his trigger finger clamped tightly against the body of his pistol. It never ventured a hairs breadth closer to the lever that would end two lives with one pull. Johnny had plans for his future. He swallowed a sigh. Watching them lay there, foreheads pushed onto the dirty tiles by the force of their own clasped han...
Weekly Contest #334
Familiar reed beds swept by, the lethargic current of the waterway carrying Tien ever closer to his past. He helped himself along with lazy kicks of his great taloned feet and held his long neck high. The meandering streams forked and twisted across the whole area, yet his memory of the place was sufficient to find the path. No matter how much he wished it wasn’t. It would be so much easier to get lost and turn back, but as it was, they would arrive on time. Habitually he shook his thick white feathers, shedding droplets of water everywhere,...
Weekly Contest #333
Charlie sliced meat like he knew his way around a blade. The quick, confident cuts that separated bone from sinew was something that stirred questions for Hayley, but she knew better than to blurt them out. Men like Charlie usually had a past better left undisturbed. “Relax,” He said, quirking one eyebrow. She had paused too long on her own prep, the lack of motion drawing his attention, “my father owned a butcher shop up in Connecticut. Used to help out after school. A mans hand’s don’t forget work like that.” Hayley quickly dropped her eye...
Weekly Contest #332
Earth was named after the ground, for that is where its resources hid. Indra, was colonised for its skies. A familiar blue reigned over the planet, which was slowly being painted gold by the setting of its giant, red sun. Streaks of violet highlighted the valuable hexium gas pockets, staining the swarms of human ships that circled them. The foreign star birthed a light show that could help even the lowliest worker forget the ugliness of the surface. Yet, Tybalt allowed only a sparing glance for the beauty of it. He turned his gaze toward the...
Shortlisted for Weekly Contest #331 ⭐️
Trigger Warning: Suggestions of abuse, death and mental health. A whirl of snow chased Becca as she burst through the thick door. She slammed it with a backward kick and darted forward across the cabin, making a direct line for the fireplace. Biting the padded gloves from her hands, she flicked them to the ground and presented her icy fingers to the flames. She panted and sniffed, puffing out cold air from her lungs with intermingled groans. She wriggled her tingling fingers, the heat of the roaring fire slowly bringing them back to life. C...
Weekly Contest #330
“I’ll die for you” Whispered the older man to his son, “You know that...don’t you?” Stone dust fell in a cascade from the ceiling, intermittent waves of it, never running dry. Every time a loud thud reverberated through the building above, it shed endless debris into the cold cellar. “I know, father. I do. But now is hardly the time for such talk. We’ll get home safely, then figure out what to do about all this. I know it’s a long way and I’m asking much…but she's waiting. I fear...we will need to push on soon. Not much choice in it.” Isaac ...
Weekly Contest #328
Galfrid Blyth looked past his campfire to the stars, his sword resting over his knees and reflecting the dancing light. Henry Blyth lit a cigarette, illuminating the night for a moment, before tossing the empty matchbook into the mud and repositioning his rifle against his shoulder. Kalfrit Blyth slid the dial on his utility bracer to push a white glow out into the void, flicking his wrist to set his repeater into his grip. Each rested on the eve of war. “Are you shittin’ your pants, Galfrid!?” A gruff voice bellowed. Shortly followed by...
Weekly Contest #327
Duke was humiliated. To be cornered so completely by his own hubris…it was shameful. He looked down through the gnarled branches at the hard ground, so very far below and rumbled displeasure at the back of his throat. It had been bird. Simply a bird, that had been his undoing. One he had never seen before. Bright, shining and so exotic he had salivated over its imagined taste. But it had been a trap. The dazzling beauty had lured him higher and higher, until he was too far gone. Then it had simply fluttered away into the sky, turning to a do...
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