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Submitted to Contest #313
WARNING: Language “Do you want to drive, honey? Your driver’s exam is in a week, so you can use all the extra practice you can get.” Maureen Donovan’s twenty-six-year-old son, Nathan, entered the kitchen. “Sure!” he replied. “Do you trust me to drive us all the way there…?” He walked over to the coffee pot, assembling the usual suspects for his perfect cup: hemp filters (washable), water (distilled), Star Trek mug (might as well be a bowl with a handle) and Italian roast (tar-grade). “Of course! You’ve driven wonderfully up until now. I have...
Submitted to Contest #239
"We have to set an intention first, Matthew..." Jennifer grabbed the phone. "You don't need the phone to set an intention". Matthew snatched the phone back. You'd think this couple were in their teens, but apparently 50-something soulmates married for thirty years can do the whole "playful bickering" thing just as well as their younger counterparts. Matthew and Jennifer walked out of their house and headed towards the gravel driveway. Autumn leaves, strewn across the yard, crunched underfoot. The br...
Submitted to Contest #233
[WARNING: Strong language and sensitive topic.] "How might one endure the silent and secluded nature of winter? Be the bear, enter a deep cave, and dream, dream, dream." – Jacqueline Suskin I probably shouldn't be writing this, but oh-fucking-well. When the most precious thing lodged in your heart is ripped out and crushed by an unthinking alcoholic asshole driving with a revoked license, you do things—unimaginable things. And not just burying your beloved eight-year-old son, which was not on my Shitty Life Bingo Card, obv...
Submitted to Contest #193
“Boss, I’ll totally do you this favor. I know I can do it. Trust me. After all, Dom’s been in the pen for a decade, and it’s time you trusted someone else to get the job done.” Cristo shifted from foot to foot in front of his employer’s desk. He was Tito’s first cousin, too, but the role of Boss ruled in these matters…Mr. Tito Taffoni looked up. His eyes itched. And watered.Dammit. He scratched his salt and pepper goatee. Forty years in the family business. Forty.A week away from retirement.He had to choose his successor carefully, or all of...
Submitted to Contest #156
“Don’t you remember?"I frowned, drying the last dish. Opened the cupboard with deliberation.Is he gaslighting me…?No, Evan would never do that.He’s not that type of guy.Head games? Not in twenty-five years of marriage.Standing in the kitchen doorway, arms akimbo, mouth agape, eyes wide.“June 4th, 1989. Remember? Officials finally yanked him out of the way.”What the actual hell.I hung the dish towel on the oven handle, feeling as though I was moving through syrup.“Want some coffee?"I turned back to the cupboard, grabbed a jar of coffee, poppe...
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