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Weekly Contest #313
The summer night air is alive with the wails of sirens—the piercing sound of the police cars, the lower, more urgent tones of ambulances, followed by the sharp honks of the fire trucks passing through the intersection below us. The Waffle House parking lot is awash with blue and red lights, liked a fucked up fourth of July, before being plunged back into the near-darkness of the flickering yellow sign over our heads.The u is out, which she thought was hilarious.“We’re waffle ho’s tonight, bitch,” she laughed when we first pulled up, then set...
Weekly Contest #308
It was mid-July of our last summer vacation, where the weekdays blend into weekends without the punctuation of early alarms and class period bells that we would never hear again. I was off to college in the fall, a state school two hour’s train ride away from our town. You were taking a gap year. The days we had been spending together all of lives felt scarce all of a sudden. A yearning had taken a grip on me the closer we got to graduation, an impending feeling that I was going to miss you forever. It wasn’t realistic, I knew, high school...
Weekly Contest #295
No one is referring to this as your funeral in any official capacity, but everyone in attendance knows what it is. Except, perhaps your mom, who calls the detective assigned to our case faithfully. Who drives out to the motel we were last seen at every Friday night. This past Friday she brought a bottle in a paper bag. She took a swig, white knuckles still gripping the steering wheel, rain slicing through her headlights. I sat next to her on the passenger seat, turning her radio to static. I always liked your mom, even when ...
Weekly Contest #294
To Whom It May Concern,We met studying abroad Rome. She tripped on the Spanish steps, I dropped my books and ran to steady her. Many young women would have been embarrassed to have stumbled in such a public venue, cameras clicking in every direction. Claire threw her head back and laughed. She stood, one foot bare, the other in a flip flop, laughing at her own clumsiness. I don’t have any pictures of her from that day, but it’s woven into my mind, the sunlight catching in her golden hair, glowing like a late-summer halo.I stood a step below ...
Weekly Contest #293
My knuckles are white still gripping the steering wheel, even though I’m safely in park. I stare straight ahead through the rain lashing my windshield, the wipers struggling to keep up. Thunder clashes in the distance. It’s been a while since I’ve seen a storm like this, even longer since I’ve driven in one. When I set off from home, the now-familiar trek across town to the county jail, I told myself it would be worth it, that I had no other choice. My ...
I sit on the bench at the tiny train station near my old flat. The first streaks of dawn glimmer on the tracks, glowing golden in the branches of trees. The 6:45 train is seven minutes late. I used to take it every morning, anywhere from five to fifteen minutes late. It was early once, and only once, and I missed it. I hear a rumbling down the track and turn my head. The train, now eleven minutes late, comes thundering down its path. I stand as if to catch it, one last time, but it does not stop. It rarely stops here, even though I am here...
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