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Weekly Contest #276
Hart was the cousin of our cousins, the Gunneys. Auntie Sylvie was my mom’s favorite sister and so we spent a lot of time in the summers with the Gunneys: swimming in their little circular pool, staying in their house in their scenic English coastal village. The Gunney kids were older than us and we were in awe of them. They had lots of friends, they went windsurfing, they stuck up for one another. In time, they even started drinking and smoking. They were demonstrably cooler than our other cousins. The main contact was Daisy, th...
Weekly Contest #267
“James, you are not going to school in a dress.” Marcus’ mother leaned desperately out of the door, intent on capturing James’ attention but fearful of being seen by the neighbors in her nightgown. Marcus stared down at his Frosted Flakes. Outside his window, he watched his brother halt on the pavement and look back at their mother. James’ long hair, unbrushed, was tucked behind his ears. At the dining room table, Marcus’ stomach turned with anxiety. The dress on his brother looked comical, even grotesque, to Marcus. Marcus himse...
Weekly Contest #265
Stephanie Pilon was our password before she was my girlfriend. She was the most beautiful girl in our Russian class. Claude and I would joke about dating her. I would say, “The site should run on JavaScript.” Claude would say, “I should have ten million dollars.” I would say, “Stephanie Pilon should be my girlfriend.” Then the time came to make a password for our bitcoin account. We needed a word of more than eight characters that we would both remember. That was Steph’s first official role in the business. ...
Weekly Contest #264
“A guest can’t wear a white dress to a wedding,” said Marion. “A tan dress is fine but white? Never.” She was sitting beside me, looking charming in a conservative, sleeveless, knee-length dress that buttoned down the back. The dress looked, to my eyes, white. I have always been a touch colorblind but, previously, my errors had been in distinguishing between green and yellow. White and tan had not given me much trouble, up to now. Marion and I were sitting together at a long table, which was covered in blank cards, envelopes, and m...
Weekly Contest #261
Dear Gratitude Journal, I’m thankful that Religious Education is a non-exam course. I’m thankful that Ms. Nelson is not going to actually read you, just check off that we wrote something in you. I’m thankful that this exercise is finally oooover for today. Yours sincerely,Max ————— Dear Gratitude Journal, I’m thankful I’m not Alastair Bliss. Today he wore a suit to history class. Everyone made fun of him, of course, hooting when he walked in. He smiled as he lowered himself into his chair and then raised a pale hand. It was not t...
Weekly Contest #260
In the year 2054, there was a great war between humans and robots. Millions of lives were lost, the planet’s cities were engulfed by fire, explosive battles on land and at sea. Although we were ultimately victorious, it came at a terrible price. As I sit here now, leaning back in this silent room, in this cold city, looking out over the flat Neva, I ask myself: what was the cost of peace? ——— A bit about me. I come from Russia. I originally worked as a euthanist in a hospital outside of St Petersburg. Euthanasia was broadly legal...
Weekly Contest #254
“You lawyers always look after each other,” Djamilia said to Albert. He rolled his eyes. “Fine. What do you think Judge Preston was before he was a judge?”“I can’t handle her any more,” Djamilia said. “She’s costing the estate a fortune. She objects to every motion.” Albert shook his head once, twice. “Davida is a capable and intelligent lawyer.” “Just draft the motion, Albert,” Djamilia said and hung up. ————————-The hearing was on November 15th. Djamilia wore her expensive heels and waited as Judge Preston heard the cas...
Weekly Contest #253
The first email of the morning said, “Morgan, where are we on the fully executed STD? We were expecting it yesterday evening. Please can you circulate asap this morning so that we can fund?” Morgan sat at her desk. She too had been working yesterday past midnight. This morning, for self-comfort, she had bought a glazed pastry and now chunks of sugar speckled her desk. She wiped them carefully into her palm and dropped them in the bin. She minimised the email without responding and logged into her account at British Airways. She w...
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