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Weekly Contest #199
In one of the dozens of boxes roughly packed with printed materials, wedged along the tables at the flea market, I found a faded clothbound book labeled Betty’s Diary. I was intrigued, what had Betty written seventy years ago? On the first page, dated December 26, 1949, was written in an elegant script, “Aunt Maureen wishes you the best for your senior year in high school.” Entry One Dated: January 20, 1922 Today is only Monday, and I am already writing in my diary. See. If anyone reads this, you can tell my aunt that I do write ...
Weekly Contest #91
Our story starts with a phone call. The owner is out at the time, parsing her way through the decay of her garden, salvaging the remaining squash, cabbages and peppers. November has arrived. She hears the ringing, but doesn’t imagine it could be important, and she’s working against the weather. It feels like rain, the moistness all around her, the mist of the fog coming down the sound. Then the wind does pick up, shaking the leaves left in the trees and dancing to the tune of her wind chimes around the trailer. The first few drops fall....
Weekly Contest #84
This should be simple.This should be simple.This should be child's play.But it isn't. The idea of taking the public bus to the post office is terrifying me, an adult woman who once faced the world boldly. Now the idea of posting my property tax payment on the very last day for the postmark has frozen me to the sidewalk. Two buses have pulled over, waited, then left.Today is the deadline. It must be postmarked today. I stopped driving because I couldn't trust entering the premises of any gas station. And I'm not able to contemplate sharing th...
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