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Weekly Contest #299
It wasn't hate. Nothing like TV drama, slammed doors and shouting. That takes energy, like wrestling a fitted sheet onto a mattress while convinced a stranger judges your technique. Leo’s thing with people was more complicated. A loop: crave connection, then build mazes between himself and others. A text, not a call. An email, proofread, not dropping by. A tight wave across the street, shoulders hunched, avoiding conversation. He’d watch neighbours haul groceries from his window, coffee mug clutched, its warmth barely registering. He’d duck ...
Okay, so. Aldo Fontana. My name was still that, anyway. And up until last Tuesday, which now felt like a photograph you keep pulling out looking for something that was never there, life was…well, smooth. Like that 8:14 train I took. The chug-chug punctual? That was the beat to my song. And the library, where I worked —the card catalogues going shhh-click. That was me. A lot. Made things neat. I was a person who liked things Just So. Really liked it. Maybe a little too much, eh? People probably saw just the quiet library assistant. But it fel...
Shortlisted for Weekly Contest #296 ⭐️
The hum. That was the first thing Owen Lux always noticed. Fable's Edge didn't breathe; it vibrated. A low thrum, deep in the bones, seeping through concrete and glass like damp. Daytime brought the usual racket -- traffic, commerce, ambition grinding itself down on the pavement. But night? Night was a steadier drone. Server farms sighing, ancient HVAC units wheezing, and beneath it all, the white noise of millions lying awake, staring at their ceilings. Owen lived right in the middle of that static. Or felt like he did. His apartment was t...
Weekly Contest #230
In a Nutshell By DannyG “The nutshell closes then finally cries………” He closed his mouth slowly, licking his lips, searching for moisture. I wasn’t sure what to do now. The air was warm and sour, yeasty. If I didn’t have to breathe it, I probably wouldn’t have. “What’s that about then?” The man wiped the corners of his lips, his long grey hair in a not-so-tidy bun. “I’m not sure. Can’t really gather it up for you. Get it yourself.” I swallowed and followed his movements. The room was dim, lit by a single bulb swinging gently from a fra...
Weekly Contest #227
The First Line of Defence By DannyG “Instructions for living a life: Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it.” Mary Oliver I was convinced that my all of my future reincarnations were nullified by the enlightenment I had just attained. But something was wrong. The cycle of Samsara wasn’t broken -- not as broken as my family, as broken as my community, or as broken as the middle finger I had snapped getting up from my cross-legged pose under the shading Ficus. Also, after forty-nine days without movement, my legs were numb. Bodh Gaya...
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