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Weekly Contest #372
Two siblings were wandering along a path in the park. It was long after dark, but neither sibling wanted the day to be over. They had had such a fun day even though the moon was hanging limp and bloody in the sky, it did not waver their spirits. They walked the path guided by its red arrays. Passed the playground with rusted bars, edging towards a dark, dark woods where no light could penetrate. But the sister, the youngest of the duo, was tired. “Let us stop for a rest, Oh Mikey. Please, let us stop.” Mikey, the oldest of the two, nodded, t...
Weekly Contest #348
Rot Lark The house was dying. A broken, dilapidated thing left to bask in its own ruins. Rotted floors, molded walls with crumbling paper and a broken foundation. Every stitch in that house undone, ripped and ruined. A reminder of what was. So, it did what any corner creature did when faced with death- it fought back. --------------------------------------------------------------- The woods were watching me. There was a distinct awareness, a sense that I was not alone though there was not another soul within miles from me. A deep-rooted fea...
Weekly Contest #338
Robert “Bobby” Miller was a military man through and through. Having served in the Second Infantry Division during the Korean War, Bobby knew only staunch discipline and a battle-ready regiment. Each day started the same: wake up, make breakfast, brush teeth, walk to the cornerstore for a cup of bitter coffee and paper then spend the rest of the day in. A routine crafted for a man such as himself who liked to achieve daily maximum potential. It was a bleary day with a chill settling in, a northern wind threatening an early winter. But nothin...
Weekly Contest #337
The Statues Cry Lark The church had sat upon the hill, wilting in sweet summer heat; its crumbling foundation like chalk beneath our feet. Fractured stained glass windows hanging proudly towards the sun in limp frames. Great vines sweeping across a veiled entrance to a world unknown. It had once been a place of great pride, the Founding Fathers consecrating the very grounds they would bleed on in holy water and prayer. Perhaps it was the dwindling funds, the rise of alternate religion, or simply- just a dead church. Some say it was a ritual...
Weekly Contest #328
TWs: Swearing, murder, implied substance abuse, implied parent abuse, mentions of suicide (brief) July 6th, 2015 – Michael Metal against metal. The constant air of unrepentant rage, it’s own tension throbbing through the wards. 15 days of freedom. That’s all the time I was left to rot in this hole, yet I’d come right back at the look Michael McKenzie sr. staring down at me like I was a maggot beneath his pristine Oxford’s. A bag was thrust into my arms, and I felt the familiar weight of my belongings rattling inside. Guards milled about at ...
Weekly Contest #327
The Human, the Witch, and the Dragon Esmerelda had a strong belief that tea could fix anything. Cold- drink tea, upset- drink tea, stuffy nose-drink tea. She had a routine that she had been following since she tasted the tantalizing brew; three cups per day after each meal (and sometimes an extra as a nightcap). She was having an especially off day, the sky was overcast, a gray hue against the horizon where rain threatened to fall. Esmerelda hated the rain, it made her joints feel stiff and cold, it made the air thick with tension and humi...
Weekly Contest #325
The House Breathes The stench of rot permeates the air in thick waves. Dirt cakes the wooden floorboards that have given home to termites, living and dying in succession as the passage of time is marked by new broods. The door creaks with heavy weight as it slides against cracked foundation, barely skimming the ground it has vowed to protect. Eli’s footsteps fill the emptiness. Pitch is the night. No streetlamps guide the way to the house near the woods, the one that sits on the edge of town like a dark fortress awaiting its master. No good...
Weekly Contest #321
The Box: Lark There is a box on my table. Perfectly square with a thick strip of tape centered across it, tempting me to open it. I stare at the cardboard stranger and think to myself if I set it down before work, not thinking about it. But I hadn’t ordered anything. There are no labels on the box, only that dusty brown color on every square inch, no blemishes, post marks, or scratches in sight. A perfectly square box. I move towards my cleaned off table, that I don’t remember tidying, to investigate. I draw near the smooth edge, my hands h...
Weekly Contest #320
TW: Death (in general as a conversation), gore descriptions The Monster in the Woods Lark There is a monster in the woods. I can hear the scrapes and crunching beneath heavy feet shuffling ever closer, closer, closer. I am become lost with my broken body resting against rugged boulder, my fingers scraping rock; leveraging myself away from the monster. Fingers bleeding beneath scraped fingernails and wretched cries leaving my lungs. I hear it coming. Coming for me. The monster has always been- as old as the woodlands and rivers. It looms in...
Weekly Contest #312
The drug was called Somnex. It was distributed by the Lovelee’s Corporation. The company was paying people to trial run the drug for their new performative virtual reality program. Many were nervous; even more were weary. Few had a choice in the Alliance District where poverty was more than just a threshold, it was the medium. Benjamin was one of those few who started the trial drug. At $200 per dose, it was a no-brainer to participate. There was little work in their District, shops either did not make enough to survive, or were robbed to th...
Weekly Contest #309
Once when the plains grew long and large, and the sun warmed the bare earth, there was a mouse that was born. The mouse was the smallest of the litter, and the mother knew it was unlikely it would survive with its five other siblings vying for food and shelter. “By day's end,” thought Mother Mouse, “this runt will be dead.” But such was life, and Mother Mouse could not waste energy when she had many more mouths to feed. When Father Mouse saw the runt, he agreed, “By day’s end this runt will be dead. Such is life.” But by day's end the runt o...
Weekly Contest #304
My love, my love. I would die for you. Even when my heart lays in tatters at your feet and the winter night feels like a blessing across my too warm skin, that you flayed open and left hanging behind. You broke me unlike any other. Brought me in and left me hollow and bleeding. That is how you showed your love, with clenched fists and harsh words. An unspoken bond between us. Flowers and gifts on feathered apologies come to light with the morning sun. Your lips pressed against mine, now cracked and bleeding, but I paint yours with the crimso...
Weekly Contest #303
There was a letter amongst the bills and adverts that caught Grandmama Irene’s attention. An official sort of document from the hospital all the way in Atlanta. She was expecting this, she knew what it would say, but opening the letter and looking at the results was an entirely different sort of knowing. It was more official. She was dying. Typed plainly and written simply. She didn’t have much time left. And she felt it. Lately her days have been growing shorter as exhaustion overcame her and her lungs burned quicker. Gone were the days of ...
Weekly Contest #301
Snip, Snip Daybreak comes with renewed motivation. For the past few weeks, I have been tirelessly sending out resumes, following up on said resumes, and, in general, spending my days job hunting. I was desperate, but my hope was still high. Freshly graduated and filled with a sense of vigor that only those still naïve and in their youth seem to hold. Today was another day, another opportunity to “get out there.” As was good practice for any good businessman, I searched the paper’s classifieds for my calling. The usual catalogue of wanted han...
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