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Weekly Contest #348
Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. A head on a chest. An ear pressed right under a breast. Skin against skin, a heart singing its rhythm for a mind. Emotions meeting thoughts. Authentic resting on artificial. June stroked Sophie’s hair. It was blonde now, curtesy of long days spent outside. The sun reached in through the curtains to kiss the woman’s face. June bent forward to do the same. “Sweetheart, it’s morning,” said June. “Mmm,” said Sophie, turning to lie facedown on June’s stomach. It tickled when she breathed. “You have to wake...
Weekly Contest #336
CW: Gun violence You’ve got the words all muddled up—she’s singing about the son of a preacher man.No, I’m fairly certain she’s singing about the sun from the peaches, man.But what does that even mean?I don’t know, I’m not the one singing it.Here, I’ll turn it up so you can hear. See? Preacher.Sounds like peaches to me.Well anything sounds like peaches if you want it to.We’ll just have to agree to disagree.So long as we can agree that Dusty is a national treasure.National treasure in America is setting the bar awfully low.The only national t...
Weekly Contest #286
I carry my life in a suitcase. My parents gave it to me when I was still too young to understand what it was. They taught me to carry it and they put some of their weight in it, though I’m not sure if they meant to. It’s a lovely suitcase made out of cured brown leather, with bronze locks and a mahogany handle. It is not a very big sort of suitcase, but it is just large enough for me to fit my life in. I have a lot of books in the suitcase. Most of them I have never read, but I like the idea of reading them. I carry them with me, because one...
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