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Weekly Contest #122
This story contains intrusive thought mentions and detailing of panic attacks. My pills lay sprawling on my nightstand. I must have knocked them over in my sleep. I pick up the bottle and scoop in the white circular tablets. “Fluoxetine,” the label reads. I pick one off my nightstand and pop it into my mouth, swallowing hard. I place the transparent bottle back by my lamp. The gray cotton of my pajama pants pools at my ankles as I walk to the kitchen. I find the wooden chair at my kitchen table, the same one I have sat at for as lon...
Weekly Contest #121
I’ve watched these children file through this line for years now. I’ve fed them and seen them grow. Most of them don’t even know my name. To them, I am a joke, something to mock. They’ve never paid me a ‘thank you’ or even a thought after I give them their food. The vibration of a tray against the trashcan echoes in my ears. An untouched burger flops into the garbage can along with an unopened fruit cup and a serving of corn. The corn I came in early to perfect this morning. More trays bang. The line leading up to the trash cans dwindles a...
Weekly Contest #120
“Back in my day, we didn’t have to eat this bullshit,” Nana says. “Mom, language!” My mom stands across the room with her eyebrows raised. Nana has always been like this. Using the old language, talking about the old days, both of which were forbidden years ago. The governor decided that the old language was crude and unprofessional and talking about past times wasn't forward facing, not productive for society, so he outlawed both. “We all got to eat what we wanted and when we wanted.” Nana continues without even looking back a...
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