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Weekly Contest #367
The door closes behind him.It shuts with a soft, padded thump—too gentle for the weight it carries. Clive stands in the narrow dressing room, the fluorescent lights humming overhead, the mirror reflecting a man who is about to vanish. His old life, his suits, his spreadsheets, his careful accountant’s posture—has just been sealed on the other side of that door like a specimen in a jar.He exhales. It feels like the first real breath he’s taken in months.The marshal had called it a “transition suite,” but it’s really a glorified changing room ...
Chuck was ten, which meant he was old enough to know better but young enough to ignore that fact. His friends called him Chuckles, partly because he laughed at everything and partly because he made everyone else laugh too. Living in the “boring” town of Gusty Patch, sometimes fun had to be made. He had a talent for turning ordinary days into stories worth retelling.On the last Saturday of summer break, Chuckles stood at the edge of Gordy Creek, staring at the rickety rope swing tied to the old sycamore. The rope was frayed. The creek w...
Weekly Contest #366
THE ABYSSAL VEILThe ocean at 9,000 meters did not welcome visitors. It tolerated them the way a sleeping giant tolerated insects crawling across its skin — unaware, uninterested, but capable of annihilation with the slightest shift. In the crushing dark, where sunlight had never touched and pressure could fold steel like paper, two divers descended in a reinforced submersible called The Lumen.They were not supposed to be there. The coordinates were off-limits, uncharted, and flagged by three separate research institutions as “structurally un...
Marvin Blight was a man of modest dreams: warm socks, quiet evenings, and sandwiches that didn’t fall apart mid‑bite. Unfortunately for Marvin, the universe had recently entered what scholars would later call its “Chaotic Drama Phase,” and it had begun selecting random mortals for narrative enrichment. Marvin unknowingly was chosen because he looked “narratively flexible.”He discovered this when he wandered into Gertie’s Antique & Possibly Haunted Emporium, a shop that seemed to exist in three dimensions and one emotional plane of disapp...
Weekly Contest #365
Attic RumorsBy lunchtime, everyone at Willow Creek Middle School knew the rumor: Mr. Bell, the quiet custodian with the squeaky cart and the world’s most suspicious eyebrows, had a secret room in the attic where he kept trophies stolen from students.No one had seen the room. No one had lost a trophy. In fact, Willow Creek did not have many trophies worth stealing, unless someone had a serious interest in third-place plaques from regional spelling bees. But Tyler Moss said he had heard a clinking sound above the library ceiling, and Tyler was...
THE UNSEEN ALLIANCE Redstone City Zoo woke slowly, like a creature stretching its limbs. Mist clung to the pathways, drifting between enclosures like ghostly cotton. The air smelled of damp earth, fresh hay, and the faint sweetness of fruit crates being opened for breakfast.Kavita, the Bengal tiger, lay draped across her favorite rock, sunlight pooling over her stripes like molten gold. She watched the zoo with the regal boredom of someone who believed she deserved a palace.Across the path, Barnaby the silverback gorilla sat on his haunches,...
Weekly Contest #364
Wharf League by Ken GordonA baseball game in an abandoned lot next to the fishing wharf was always going to be a little weird, but this one… this one deserved its own documentary.The lot itself was a patchwork of crabgrass, broken pallets, and the faint smell of old minnows. The bases were pizza boxes. The outfield fence was a row of overturned shopping carts. And the players—six kids who had sworn a blood oath (actually ketchup) to make this the “Greatest Summer Game Ever”—were already arguing before the first pitch.By the fourth inning, te...
Weekly Contest #363
Luma of the Lake – by Ken GordonAs Eli looked out on the horizon, as the mist over Lake Michigan was thick enough to blur the world into watercolor. Eli Navarro guided his small boat through the quiet morning, humming tunelessly as he worked, hopefully not running into any small craft hiding in the mist. Fishing wasn’t just his job — it was his ritual, the one thing that kept him steady after life had thrown more storms than calm waters his way.He tugged at a stubborn net. “Don’t start with me,” he muttered. “I haven’t even had my coffee yet...
Weekly Contest #356
The Classifieds WhispererMost people thought the classified ads were just a graveyard of old furniture, lost pets, and questionable lawnmowers, and occasional job listings. But not Lois Mildred.Lois believed the classifieds were alive.Every morning at 5:47 a.m. sharp, she sat at her kitchen table in Colona, with a mug of coffee and unfolded the Colona Dispatch. She didn’t read the news. She didn’t check the weather. She went straight to the classifieds — the way most people go straight to church.Because hidden between the “Free Kittens” and ...
Weekly Contest #208
“Send it,” the voice rang through his ears. Holding his breath, slowly exhaled, and a squeeze of his right index finger. Flash of the muzzle, then silence. “Report back soldier” the voice returns. “Confirmed hit sir, enemy down, site secure to advance,” replies Gunny. “10-4 Gunny, advance and secure payload”. Gunny calls out “check in team.” Frank, Jack, Sarah, and Jex confirmed. “Chuckles, do you copy?” burst of static, but no return call. “Frank, do you have eyes on Chuckles?” “No sir” replies Frank. “I saw him take a hit and drop for cov...
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