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Weekly Contest #364
I broke his nose. Before you judge me, you need to know how it started. Southeast Alabama, 1986 I was there when she walked into the emergency room. I knew the truth before either of them spoke. She came in with her hands covering her mouth and nose, but she couldn’t hide the dark stains across her shirt. He hurried in ahead of her. "I slammed on the brakes when a dog ran out in the road. She wasn’t wearing the seat belt. Her face hit the dashboard. It happened so fast." A nurse pressed gauze into her hand and wrapped a blood-pressure cuff a...
Weekly Contest #363
Around 10:45 p.m., I stood at my muster station after learning there was a fire on the ship. The Atlantic below us was invisible in the darkness. My husband was directly behind me as the loudspeakers blared, “Women and children in the front, men in the back!” It was our honeymoon. The crew had ordered us out of our cabins with our life jackets. Now, hundreds of passengers crowded the deck, all wearing the same blocks of neon orange over formal dresses, shorts, pajamas, and whatever else they had managed to throw on. No one panicked. I could...
Weekly Contest #362
The phone rang at 4:48, late enough for people’s questions to lose their boundaries. “Adult Services,” I said. A man breathed on the line. Not heavily. Not dramatically. Just long enough for me to see Unknown on the caller ID. “Can you recommend something spicy for me and my wife to read at bedtime?” “Spicy,” I said. “For bedtime.” “Let me check.” I fake typed a few keys. “We have Chile Peppers: A Global History.” A beat of silence. Then click. He had called before. Not enough to report, but enough that we knew the breathing. Edie looked ove...
Weekly Contest #361
*Contains mature themes and sensitive content involving a teenager. August 1985. Summer was ending. The Alabama heat wasn’t about to give out. All that month, she came home from majorette practice, sweated clean through her PHS t-shirt. Her hair stuck flat to the back of her neck, damp and matted like one of those newborn kittens they’d found in the backyard shed. Her legs had that deep, tired ache from marching the practice field over and over. One, two, three, four. Pivot left. Toss. Kick. Catch. Mr. Watkins yelling, “Watch your spa...
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