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Weekly Contest #331
‘I have so many memories of him,’ Eira said to her granddaughter, ‘but it’s one of the earliest ones that I always go back to, the first night he came knocking. It’s a beautiful memory. I notice it’s always the most beautiful memories that give you the most pain, like a price to pay for all the happiness you got in the moment. Later, when that person’s gone, and you finally, definitely know they’ll never be back, it’s the memories of the good times that’ll haunt you, with a sweetness that makes their absence so very, very bitter.’A china tea...
Weekly Contest #327
‘The dream is often occupied with apparently very silly details, thus producing an impression of absurdity […] But when at last we penetrate to its real meaning, we find ourselves deep in the dreamer’s secrets and discover with astonishment that an apparently quite senseless dream is in the highest degree significant, and that in reality it speaks only of important and serious matters.’ – C. G. Jung. *** It’s a recurrent dream. The setting can change, but there’s always a body of water. This time it’s cold, cristalline mountain water, collec...
Weekly Contest #325
This is a story about what happens when you try to deny a part of yourself.It's also about a man with enough love and presence to be a grounding force in his woman's storm; one that leans in to listen, not away. It's dedicated to Dave, and to An. I live in Zandvliet, a small town in the Flemish part of Belgium.Zandvliet lies, or rather sprawls, to the north of the thriving city of Antwerp, and stays a respectful walking distance away from the Dutch border. The first houses line the A12 motorway, which, if you drive south, will take you in m...
Weekly Contest #324
Sensitive content: miscarriage Tom isn't a bad husband.He's dependable, consistent, and uncomplicated. He's generous with his time and attention. We do a lot together. I have an album by my bedside table. It's only a kraft paper scrapbook, tied with a yellow satin ribbon, but it's full: smiling photos, glued grains of sand, pressed flowers, plane and train and cinema and museum tickets, post-it notes peeled off the fridge, hotel brochures too small for all the tender memories they carry, and a lot of words. I copy down the text messages I do...
Weekly Contest #323
Arabella’s bottom barely touched the swivel chair behind the reception desk at Hunter and Wells Laboratories. Leaning over a book, one hand supporting her forehead whilst the other pressed the pages open, she was reading a story about a mad scientist, a certain Dr Hoenikker, who had invented a weapon of mass destruction named Ice 9, capable of freezing the entire earth. The open pages in question recounted that a frozen corpse, contaminated with the lethal ice crystals, threatened to slip into the ocean, as the supposedly impenetrable waters...
Weekly Contest #257
They call me Nanny Finch. I don't do much nannying anymore mind, my charge is all grown up. The Capelins kept me on even when she reached adulthood. I made myself useful, making cups of tea and whatnot, but that wasn't what they paid me for. It eased their conscience, you see, to know she wasn't too lonely. God knows they didn't know how to keep her company themselves. And then it was only natural I looked after her own son when the time came. So, I'm still here, despite that Justine, that's her name, is going on for forty-two now. But the e...
Weekly Contest #241
Leah lay next to Raph, her back pressed against his naked belly. His arm sprawled on top of the quilt. She pulled it underneath and guided his hand, holding it with her own so that it cupped her breast. But when she let her hand fall, so did his, limp, uninterested. Her breathing quickened then, and a tightness took hold of her chest and throat.Her thoughts began to dart back and forth between the past and the future. She thought of the not-so-distant past, when his hands used to travel over her skin as if they had hundreds of little eyes al...
Weekly Contest #210
Three days ago, I arrived at a place where I don’t yet know what to feel. Before now, I had never journeyed away from my home and my family, although neither of those things were synonymous with safety and comfort. The exact composition of my clan was frequently modified, feebler members often failing to return home. That’s hard at first, and then you get used to the disappearances.My homeland is a bleak place. My people are tortured and oppressed. When the sun beats down on the arid earth, we are dragged from our cramped dwellings, out into...
Weekly Contest #208
The blood trickled down from my knee, in a dark red line, towards the top of my sock. It was about 1987, so it was a high lacey sock, pulled up nearly to the top of my shin. Instead of pushing the sock down to safety, I stared as the blood ran towards the white cotton. Then I looked up to find you. You were blurred through my tears, sitting on a bench on the other side of the playground, very far away beyond the roundabout and the seesaw. I bravely made my way towards you.“What is it, dear?” you said as I approached.My sister was sitting nex...
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