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Weekly Contest #285
OLIVETTI I never thought you’d forget me like this. I was just what you wanted—you said so, often! Sitting here in this dark closet year after year, fine dust gathering around my keys, I frequently find myself embittered. How could things have ended this way? We shared some really happy times, remember? I remember. Beautiful words, streaming from your fingers, were my sustenance; they made being an ‘inanimate object’ worthwhile. I was proud to be a participant in the journey from awareness through vision, contemplation, organized thought, ...
Weekly Contest #273
A FOREVER SECRET Winter in New York City. 1949, and late day. It had been raining and would no doubt soon rain again. A painter would have been making good use of his Payne’s Grey. He would be eyeing his verticals and dimensional planes. He would wish there weren’t so many cars, and he would paint the street that way—empty, shiny, with a drizzle on all the windows. He would be awaiting the streetlamps because every lamp would have its very paintable halo—but it was still too early for haloes. Winter in New York can be bone-chill...
Weekly Contest #249
PARADISE LOST Maggie knew she’d been speeding. Over ninety for miles now. Benjamin wouldn’t have liked that; he’d have feared for her life. But Benjamin wasn’t here, and she was already late for the gig, and besides, there weren’t any highway patrol cars out doing their job. Plus she’d only had the Monte Carlo for one week and still couldn’t get over how its curved, sleek thighs were speed incarnate. Mötley Crue rattled the speakers, causing her to butt-dance on the seat. Through the open window a hot wind blew. The trouble was, she been loo...
Weekly Contest #238
Warning: the F word will probably appear more than once. SHH! The first thing Mark said at the Silent Retreat, to the stacked young blond behind the reception desk, was, “Hey there! Sounds like we’re in the right place, eh?” He said it because the office felt like a tomb, chill with the total absence of TV or background music. The blond raised her eyebrows over her wire-rimmed glasses and gave a little smile, pressing the smile closed with her upraised forefinger. “Oh yeah,” Mark remembered. “Right, silent.” Then he dropped his voice a...
Winner of Weekly Contest #235 🏆
KILLER IN THE WILLOWSJust do it, so the T-shirts say. Just pick up the gun, pull the trigger—but maybe aim first, aim at the upper sternum and then pull the trigger, congratulating yourself that at last, in your long, passive life, you have shot somebody dead. So she did, and thus she became a murderer. She slipped through the night after that and disappeared into the willows to wash off any blood that spattered onto her clothing. The willows were thickly interlaced, with an overpowering smell, acrid and watery. The stream flowed t...
Weekly Contest #199
Those sensitive to sex may look for it here. HERE’S LOOKING AT YOU The countertop is ancient tile—green and cream, chipped; there’s a lot of cups of coffee have sat here before mine. That wall clock says 11:45, presumably P.M. since the sky out the window is as dark as the streetlights will let it be. Here’s my hand, lying right beside my phone, like I expect she’s gonna text me at this hour. My hand suddenly looks dark, too. I’m not generally conscious of the color of my hand, but when her hand was in mine, hers was white, which made ...
Weekly Contest #197
“ICKY MADE ME DO IT” When Danny saw the starburst of forks strewn across the floor, he mumbled, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” And knew he was lying. Of course he had meant to. How could you accidentally knock over a heavy metal container with a cast-iron bottom? But the truth—Icky made me do it—was one truth he was never going to tell. “That was just plain stupid,” Mrs. Mommy was informing him, as if he were in fact stupid. “You need to stop making these messes, Danny! What are we going to do with a bad boy who won’t ...
Weekly Contest #196
‘GOOD LOVE’ Dear BFF, you wouldn’t believe who I met last night! Walking toward me, under the streetlights…he’d just finished buttoning something into his shirt pocket and was getting ready to glance back up. Our eyes met; our footsteps slowed. The mutual recognition was as instantaneous as two particles. Our grasp of its significance took a little longer. Okay, here’s what I saw. (I don’t know what he saw.) He was taller than me, of course, and his hair was longer than mine is since my recent hack job. He was extraordinarily good-...
Weekly Contest #195
(Warning: asterisks, pronouns, and possibly-offensive cheap shots.) I dedicate this to the 'Little People' who work backstage behind every great show. WE ARE THE FOUNDATION “Houston, we have a problem,” said Jerry, the gofer. Jerry’s face was pasty, with a slick overlay of sweat, and his eyes protruded like blue marbles. The gofer wasn’t usually one to sweat things, nor did his eyes normally protrude in this preternatural way, which is why we hired him in the first place. In showbiz you need at least one person whose head remains at...
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