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Weekly Contest #351
There I lay on the bathroom floor. I had no more sobs, no more tears to let fall. I had watered those yellow tiles for endless eternities, flooding them with the salty water that should have stayed in the sea but was overflowing from my soul. As of yet no flowers had bloomed from those rains but I imagined that if a flower did indeed sprout from between the bathroom tiles, fed by my despair, it would be a thistle. Ugly. Prickly. And impossible to get rid of. I prepared to let loose yet another soul crushing wail when it all lifted. Floated ...
Weekly Contest #350
It’s right around the corner there. JESUS CHRIST! Where’d you get your license? A Kinder Surprise? No, stupid, Kinder Surprises are illegal. As is stealing a suitcase full of money from Danny Maroni but that didn’t stop us, did it? I suppose it didn’t. You know, I accidentally brought a Kinder surprise from Canada into the States one time? You crime rider. I know right? But it seriously was an accident. Which is what we tell Maroni if he asks. You think he got mad? I think it might have annoyed him a bit, yeah. You think he knows it was us? ...
Weekly Contest #349
It was a wet forest, the canopy of which did not succeed in warding off the acid rain. The family shuffled through the undergrowth, three beating hearts and a battery. Hoods drawn low, balaclavas covering everything but their eyes. On their mottled coats were smeared a paste of their own creation: a mixture of car oil, crushed garlic, and fox urine. Their scent was putrid, yet unidentifiable. If that wasn’t enough to mask them from the creatures, the father of the family carried a machete and the mother an assault rifle. The little girl had ...
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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