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Weekly Contest #358
The only way out is to stay in.That was one of the many slogans which featured on the Latino man’s collection of t-shirts. He also smelt of bergamot. But crucially for Abbie Spalding, and unlike many other commuters, he wore headphones as he scrolled through social media for the duration of their journey. A suitable neighbour who allowed her to focus.But that day, he didn’t get on the bus.As the bus drove away from the stop, a handful of people shuffled towards Abbie, clinging to the bus’s strap handles like visitors to a tree-top adventure ...
Weekly Contest #349
Today is April 31.For most of you alive, those words read like a typo, or at best, someone who hasn’t grasped how the calendar works yet. But for a handful of us, that date still means something. Everything. On that date twenty-five years ago, the world ended.The person who had sent me that message obviously belonged to the latter group. But it wasn’t the first anonymous message I had received from the sender. The reason for my stay in the arrivals hall at Palma de Majorca airport today was the message that preceded it yesterday. April 31. 1...
Weekly Contest #347
The Drunk Fish was no different from other Yorkshire pubs in the late nineties. Divided into two rooms – or ‘bars’ – they were separated by doors, but shared the same bar counter. Both rooms generously offered worn, sticky carpet underfoot; aged oak furniture littered with torn beermats; tatty chintz curtains; and faded floral wallpaper throughout.In the public bar, a TV fought to be heard over the high-pitched sound of two jackpot machines and darts thumping a dart board. Raucous chatter about restrictions imposed on the steel factory which...
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