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Weekly Contest #354
Note — this story contains sensitive content including the mention of suicide and description of blood. Das Blaue Maedchen On the left-hand side of a wooden desk sat a miniature replica of the Pyramids of Giza. Made of stainless steel brought to an outstanding gloss, it represented a curious but beautiful piece of decorative stationary. As Chief Constable Mueller looked through his papers seated at his desk, this item caught his eye, as it always does on trying days, and he, in a release of exasperation, tossed the papers at last to one side...
Weekly Contest #352
1 The twenty-second century anno domini was seven years in when a rod of purple lightning cut through an enormous dark cloud sauntering past a most orange, most arid landscape in the early afternoon, and struck a humanoid machine lying on the ground. Why it did and did not fall instead upon the other robotic parts or forms strewn all around this particular machine can’t be explained. Be that as it may, the thing gave a great jolt, remarkably without exploding or splitting apart. Its old battery appeared to get a charge, and within seconds a...
Weekly Contest #346
I am a lawyer, and in the course of the workplace litigation in which I am engaged, I meet often with the most striking digital communication between colleagues, executives, workers, subordinates, secretaries, and the like. Whether or not corporations and companies should legally be considered persons or entities or partnerships, no one can dispute that within them all are human beings, making the best (or the worst) of the cards life has dealt them before it’s time to “shuffle off this mortal coil.” The following email correspondence perta...
Weekly Contest #335
Camille-Corot How did we meet? What does it matter how we met? You see us clearly a couple long and deep in love, our minds as much parallel as our hearts intersected, and, in a word, perfectly happy. But because you insist on knowing, and because we are, certainly, far removed in distance and in time from the criminal act that introduced us to each other, I’ll acquiesce in the telling you of that which I’ve thought wise to forget, and gratify your curiosity. I’ve said, then, that we are far removed from the occasion of our meeting, that sma...
Weekly Contest #330
“Do you know how to turn this on?” my new coworker asked, her head peering from behind the gray, flimsy panel that separated us. She seemed to be in her mid-twenties, like myself. It took me a moment to process the unexpected query. Putting my smartphone down, I deduced she meant the computer. “The on button is underneath the screen on the right,” I responded, facing her. “Alrighty, let’s see,” she said, her head disappearing into the cubicle. Perfect silence followed. Curious, I was going to swing around to check when she exclaimed, “Found...
Weekly Contest #324
A Sentimental Sketch The following diary entry belongs to William Hodges, Captain Cook’s painter on his voyage to discover Terra Australis. August 5, 1774 ― Georg saw my drawings of Sophy, and I told him all about them. ― I was on deck appreciating the sun’s slip beneath the clouds on the horizon. The beauty of the sunset on the main, so rosy, soon stirred up a longing to return to the previous week, if not a sharp melancholy about my future with Sophy that would not be. So I took out her sketched profile in a bid to sooth my heart―and savor...
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