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Weekly Contest #69
The body in front of me breathes in and out. Slow and steady. A knife is poised to strike. The moonlight glints on its iron surface. I can see my face in the reflection on the shining metal. It doesn’t look as scared as I feel. It is the cold mask I was taught to keep in place at all times. I lift the knife over my head and bring it down. The sleeping figures' eyes flash open and I see who they really are. I cry out. I am panting. The door creaks open, and my mother and father walk through. I used to admire them. Especially my mother. B...
Weekly Contest #63
I wrap myself in a warm sweater. It’s October 3rd 2018. The house has felt empty and cold for exactly ten years. Ten years ago my mother left my father. I had just turned six and I barely remember my mother at all. But I do remember the smell of cinnamon. As a kid I had loved everything about cinnamon. Its deep rich smell, it's earthy color, and it's sharp taste. It was what my mother smelled like. Ever since she left my father has become non-existant. The smell of cinnamon had been scrubbed out from every floorboard and every pillow and eve...
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