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Weekly Contest #265
Dear Katie,I’m not sure if it’s because I’m now in my fifties or if it’s the weight of the task itself, but writing this letter to my younger, fifteen-year-old self feels like a mild form of torture. Still, I’ll take a deep breath and plunge right in. It’s hard to pinpoint what exactly drove me, when I reached my thirties, to become so determined—so utterly consumed by the need to embark on a quest that had haunted my thoughts for years.But I can tell you this: I was excited, ready to dive head-first into what I believed at the time was a me...
Weekly Contest #262
Almost everyone who has lived to adulthood has seen the portal to the other world at least once in their life. We’ve all witnessed people being drawn into it, returning as spirits—ghosts resembling younger, more beautiful, translucent versions of themselves. They wander the streets at night, announcing that they now reside on the other side, happier than ever. Lucky them, I muse as I polish the counter in Marco’s gothic art store yearning to be one of those fortunate ones. Longing to escape from this creepy place where I'm a cashier, a sales...
Weekly Contest #221
The wind howls and the bitter cold bites hard. Slivers of ice stab my cheeks as I make my way to the back of the taxi to gather our luggage from the trunk. Inside the airport I hold tight to my ten-year old brother’s hand as we wait to board our flight. Squinting to see the snow flying beyond the darkened airport windows, I’m obsessed with Mother Nature’s merciless wrath on this wild moonless October night. Once on board the Boeing 737-500, I try to unchain myself from endless months of stress; all that non-stop rushing around, ...
Weekly Contest #174
Twelve-year-old Caleb Prescott was afraid to go home.All he could think about was what his foster father was going to do to him when he got there.He stood motionless for a long time. Until the neon sign of the pizza joint across the street turned off, signifying the late hour.And Caleb knew it was now or never.Snapping out of his hypnotic trance, he looked down and was surprised to see the aluminum bar of his mountain bike between his knees; he’d been straddling it the entire time. His grip on the handlebars felt stiff and achy.&nb...
Weekly Contest #115
CW: Drugs mention, blood. No one knows where we are. We’re miserably lost.Amidst the darkness, my mom spots a pinprick of light up ahead.Driving along the country road, falling snow envelops us like a cocoon, it floats like sprinkled stardust in the milky luminosity of our headlights.“Up there,” cries my mom, “it looks like a little cottage. Don’t you agree, Isabella?”“Yeah,” I mumble, noticing that she doesn’t ask my dad his opinion. In fact, she’s barely spoken to him during our trip. Or attempted trip, I never thought we’d get lost on the...
Weekly Contest #31
Trigger warning: threat of sexual assault On a muggy June afternoon, a mass of black rolling clouds overtake the sky above our little town, charging in like a herd of running bulls stirring up dust. And Everett and I barely make it inside the laundromat before the downpour starts. As the washing machine does its thing, we sit silently across from one another in plastic yellow chairs. Each time the lightning casts its ghostly glare through the windows, I brace myself for the moment the splintering sound of the thunder’s booming voic...
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