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Submitted to Contest #311
Arabella’s jaw clenched. “You’re canceling. Again?”Niko couldn’t meet her fiery gaze. “I promised my mom I’d help get the garden ready. It’s that time of year.”“Is that so?” Arabella tapped the pencil she forgot she held against her hips.“Yeah. It slipped my mind until today.”“You know you did that last month.”Niko’s mouth dropped open. “Well…” He swallowed. “S-she didn’t like how it looked.”“It took her a month to decide that?”Niko ran a hand through his golden-red curls, still focusing on a spot somewhere above Arabella’s head. “It’s my mo...
Submitted to Contest #305
Isaac slid the notebook across the sticky table that he’d cleared of the dirty dishes but hadn’t thought of wiping down. He pointed at the full page of text. It was all written in his surprisingly pretty script. He smirked. “I have it all worked out, I’m pretty sure.” Stiare glanced at the paper, too stunned by his audacity to read what he’d jotted down. Did he honestly believe that he could outsmart her? So, what if he’d proven to be a bit more difficult than the previous humans she’d worked with? Difficult didn’t equate intelligence. Isa...
Submitted to Contest #303
The farmer’s market was far from small, but it was nowhere near large enough to conceal a private conversation. Allona shook her head. This was ridiculous. Why was this the meeting spot? “To mock you,” Morrissey, her companion rat, whispered from his spot nestled against her neck. He was hidden in the high collar of her shirt, which had them both sweltering in the scorching sun, but he’d insisted on coming along. He couldn’t help directly if trouble started, but he could run into the nearby meadow and get reinforcements. Yes, Allona agreed...
Submitted to Contest #302
The hostess looked down her glasses at Heidi Deitra. “How can I help you?” Heidi crossed her arms and stood straighter. She didn’t answer for a long, purposefully awkward ten seconds. Her eyes never left the hostess’ face. The hostess was young, likely not even old enough to drink the alcohol in the fridge behind her. From her stance, she wasn’t a newbie, neither in the restaurant industry nor in the current establishment. But her chipped, chewed fingernails and thinning hair told Heidi that she didn’t handle stress well. Twice, the chefs y...
Submitted to Contest #294
The Reaper, who insisted on being called Strike (though everyone knew that wasn’t his true name), pulled at the hem of his sweater. It was old and frayed, but Strike swore it’d come that way. He said it resembled a long-lost movie character’s iconic outfit. It instantly terrified the souls he collected who knew of the character. To him, that was the best joke in existence. Luster was certain it was the only joke Strike could comprehend. He was lucky that being a Reaper was an innate ability rather than a skill that required training. He wou...
Submitted to Contest #237
My fingers twist the long grass at my feet. I stare ahead, not seeing the campground or the pond. My breathing is shallow, but every inhale feels like a knife stabbing my lungs. I’m no doctor, but I know I’m messed up. There’s nothing I can do. I mean, how can I get to the hospital? I don’t have my driving permit, and even if I did, I don’t have a car. Any of my friends that drive won’t believe me if I tell them what led to my ribs getting hurt. Hell, even my dad’s family would think I’m lying, or as I’ve heard before, misunderstanding event...
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