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Weekly Contest #362
Mornings are a whirlwind at the Reynolds’. With one hand Mrs. Reynolds adds a splash of cream into a well-worn thermos producing the perfect beige coffee. With the other hand she scrapes around the edges of melt-in-your-mouth, fluffy scrambled eggs. Like a well-oiled machine she moves the eggs off the burner, grabs a plate from the above cabinet, and plucks up the freshly popped toast. Half the eggs get shuffled onto a pink plastic plate with some fresh cut strawberries. The other half gets hugged between the two slices of toast with cheese ...
Weekly Contest #361
In a time before I or my family knew who I was. When fear was yet an unknown friend and adventure was hot on my heels. I remember the garden of my grandparents, my favorite playground. I was a pea carrier and my grandfather showed me how to take one finger and poke the ground just deep enough to make the perfect home for a little pea. There’s a strange level of excitement that comes with the responsibility of dirt poker. I took my job seriously and feverously, with much care, I reveled in the feeling of the dirt and the secret idea that mayb...
Weekly Contest #354
TW: Death, suicide, SA, abuse “It takes a special kind of person to look the barrel of a gun straight in the eye and keep on plowing through life. As though they can’t see that deep darkness right ahead of them. But that’s me. And that’s why you’re,” she turned and pointed vaguely upwards towards nothing, “they’re studying me; testing me. I’m special. I’m stronger than everyone else. You got me for a while there,” she shook her finger with a half-hearted chuckle. “I really thought life was just a rollercoaster of ups and downs and that my do...
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