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Weekly Contest #226
The Mr. Potato Head toy smiled at me. He had a mustache, bulging eyes, a pink nose, a black top hat, a big smile, blue shoes. "This is you," said the doctor. She smashed the Mr. Potato Head down against linoleum, sending plastic arms, feet, mustache and Mr. Potato ass flying in all directions. "That's you if you don't start eating right, immediately." Dr. Salad's words rang in my ears as I drove home. Ringing. "Ringing" made me think of "bells", which made me think of tacos. As I pulled out of the drive-through, I committed to making this...
Weekly Contest #225
The house had been built a century ago, but renovated many times, making it look both old and new. Shadows spread across its face in the twilight, while the brass knocker and knob glinted furtively. I stood at the front door, caught between the obligation to go in and the impulse to leave; pinned like a mirror between reality and reflection. I would give back her key and leave. We would be separate, whole; there would be closure. I stood at the door for several minutes. The key warmed in my fist. The last of the light slid down under ...
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