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Weekly Contest #358
THE SOUND AND THE ECHO A gun blasted, rumbling through the hot, humid afternoon. It had been quiet besides the hum of air conditioners across the valley. Frank had not paid his electricity bill in two months. He was afraid to run the bill up. He was lying by the open window, on the sofa. Had anyone heard?As hot as he already was, he felt himself get hotter. It crept up his neck and erupted on his forehead in sweat. Then he heard voices, and his heart started thumping in his ears. Maybe if his heart were not jumping in his ears that way, he...
Weekly Contest #357
Maura and Jamal came to Peter’s Diner nearly every Friday, very late at night. There was a waitress who would put aside slices of cherry pie for them. Maura was 36 with auburn hair and a green sweater dress. Jamal was wearing his literal uniform. Khakis and the polo shirts of the computer repair service for whom he worked.Peter’s diner sold some pretty typical American greasy-spoon food. They decided it was a habit they would pick up after distancing themselves from a friendly couple that did too much cocaine and kept trying to sleep with th...
Weekly Contest #356
A woman is tied to a tree. She catches the scent of cannabis and kerosene on the breeze. Peeking underneath the red handkerchief around her eyes, she sees three SUVs crawling down the opposite hillside towards the compound. She passed out for what must have been a few hours. She then awoke to this, and the weather changed to hot and humid. It felt as though nightfall was coming, and rain.The man at the airport had told her nothing but lies. It seemed as if she had been mistaken for someone else, or someone realized her husband was worth exto...
Weekly Contest #341
The walk was somewhat long. It would be almost three miles. She hoped to arrive at his house in an hour or less. She could have gotten there quicker somehow, but she felt the walk would clear her mind by giving her time to think.Spring was new. The birds were going wild that morning. Things were turning green. Ten years in the same city and never once had she run into him. She was certain he must have moved away, moved on. Laura never really loved anybody the same way again. What had ten years done? What has changed? Who was he now? Would sh...
CW: Physical violence, gore or abuse; Mental health I Remember You It was August. The air was thick, and just breathing outside was a chore that left Gloria winded with her asthma as she reached the grocery store that morning. It was just starting to really heat up, and it was expected to reach higher than ninety degrees. The crisp, cool air in the grocery store was a blessing. She was slowly sauntering around the corner of the bread aisle.“I remember you!”Gloria froze. She had not heard that voice in years. Her chest started thumping, and ...
Weekly Contest #340
THE BABYThe silence of the apartment was a fragile thing, broken only by the rhythmic, soft puff of air from the little bassinet tucked next to the sofa. Sarah sat cross-legged on the rug, a mug of cold coffee forgotten on the low table, simply watching.Three days. Robert Brown. She called him Robbie.He was a perfect little person, all rosey skin and indignant, sleepy sighs. When the hospital nurse had first laid him on her chest, she was filled with joy, washing away years of barren grief, the ghosts of the pregnancies that had ended too so...
Small ExpectationsThe sun was a tired, orange coin that had slipped behind the jagged teeth of the city skyline. Viola, a calico of unremittant rage and fierce territorial loyalty, watched the light fade from her perch on the velvet-upholstered arm of the living room sofa. This apartment was usually a vibrant hum of human presence. It had settled into an eerie, early, and unnerving silence.6:52.She knew the time not by the sleek, digital clock on the microwave—a cold, alien thing—but by the rhythmic clink-whirr of the ancient radiator kickin...
Weekly Contest #339
The Glazed WindowpaneThe apartment on the sixth floor purred with the comfortable quiet of a shared life. Elliot was mixing a whiskey and soda at the small, granite counter, the ice cubes sounding like soft, rhythmic clockwork. Clarice was on the sofa, scrolling through news articles. The blue light from her phone was painting lines of concentration on her forehead. For seven years, this was their rhythm—a lulling, if somewhat muted, symphony.It had started with a sudden crash of cymbals. A riotous summer affair, stolen hours in a borrowed s...
Karly Moller Her day was an agony of waiting for a chat with her manager that never happened. It was really the only reason she had come in to work that day. She was on a salary, it was a three-day holiday weekend, and she had things to do… Finally, around three-thirty PM, he told her that the issue had been “resolved without consulting her.” She could have done laundry, shopped for flip-flops, or done anything other than hanging around on a Friday afternoon. Work without the work was just a bummer. It wasn’t that she enjoyed the accounting...
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