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Weekly Contest #349
The trees that made up the forest had thin trunks of deep black, towering high above, the tops a single, fanning leaf.Avery tilted his head up. They looked like umbrellas.Hazy red light broke through the smallest holes in the canopy—painting above as a sky of deep purple with pricks of red. The beams of light were enough to see by; barely. Vaguely it reminded him of their ship, the light during takeoff red from the Exit sign above the door.All along the trunks grew capped fungi, emitting a soft pink-hued luminosity.He coughed, lungs wheezing...
Weekly Contest #348
The fog was like cool fingers on her face, a knuckle caress over the swell of her cheek. It sat heavy on her tongue—damp, cellar-thick, something she couldn’t swallow.In front of her, the rocky surface dropped off into a nothingness that was just misty and white. The bottom far, far below. To her right: a bridge.She blew out a breath.The scuff of Jyn’s boots was loud in the silence as he stepped up next to her. In her periphery, she watched him turn to look over his shoulder. He looked almost sorrowful as he regarded their ship, its indicato...
Weekly Contest #347
The ping from her tablet was loud in her small cabin, startling her from her thoughts. Jone watched the screen fade back to black. Slowly, her gaze lifted to the window—unfamiliar stars and the black of space. This is the part she forgot. It unsettled her, the way the galaxy looked different from here. She swore she’d never go planet-side again. Her eyes flicked to her trunk in the corner—the essential vestiges of her life wrapped and carefully bundled in aluminum alloy, clasped at the seam. She blinked; shook her head, sucking in an unst...
Weekly Contest #345
Billie screamed, then laughed, punching the air as the parachute snapped her out of freefall.Her visor display flickered once, showing oxygen and pressure bars on the surface within range of sustainable life. Perfectly safe, if a little thin. It made her want to scream with joy again.Plan B was working.Beneath her feet, the runner was a ball of dark red flame. Scattered debris flashed against the white sand—blinding, even in the weak light. Inside, the two bodies belted in the cockpit would be a charred, unidentifiable mess by now.She search...
“Quinn, let’s go!”Quinn flinched, stared down at the suitcase lying open on her bed. With the edge of her sleeve, she wiped the tears from her eyes; sniffed. Her air mask hummed in time with her uneven inhale.She shouldn’t have bothered to clean.It was all she could think as she stared at the neat space around her. Not what mattered the most, not what she needed that would fit in this suitcase. Just that, she’d known this was coming—and cleaned their room anyway.The ground shook under her feet, a suncatcher juddered against the window pane.“...
Weekly Contest #340
Sophie frowned at the sky. The rocket’s vapor trail captured the colors of the setting sun—vibrant orange against a hazy, sand-colored atmosphere.She sucked in a needy breath, the mask pressed around her nose and mouth hissing.Cam looked over. She couldn’t see the tilt of her lips under the mask, but the dimness of her eyes told of their tight purse and the frown there.The ground shook as another rocket began to lift off, stirring a cloud of dust that collided with the plastic of their facemasks. The sound it made may have resembled rain—but...
Weekly Contest #339
The smell reminded Deni of gas station slushies.Carried on a fall breeze, it curled in through her open window. Sweet, sour, tangy—a combination that she could only define as pastel pink. Instinctively, her gaze searched each side of the road, looking for the glow of a Cumbies.But, she didn’t live in the north anymore.In the early, dark hours, the city lights blinked groggy before her. The rhythmic tick, tick, tick of her left turn signal filled the car. Her foot pressed firmly against the brake.It wasn’t hard to slip back there—to a world o...
Beyond the glass separating him from the outside, snow fell. Lazy fat flakes that beat against the window with a soft wump, wump. Ed blinked—slow, with one lid trailing behind the other. He didn’t feel in his body. Even if he recognized the spill of white reflected over the exhausted sheen of his eyes, it didn’t feel like he was really seeing.He was there—he just wasn’t there.Next to him, the grandfather clock chimed. A muscle clenched in his jaw. The old wood rattled with each note. Eight strikes and Ed flinched along with the shaking wood....
Weekly Contest #337
[Trigger Warning: Profanity] A film of fine, gunmetal-hued dust coated everything. It burrowed into his pores, broke apart along the chasm of wrinkles framing his mouth, and clung to his throat.It tasted, strangely, of bubblegum.The room was dim when his eyelids peeled apart, scattering sift from his eyelashes in an ashen cloud. It was always dim.The thin light of the far-away star spilled through his shade-less windows like weeping watercolor—desaturated and lifeless.“Morning,” he said aloud to the empty room; coughed. His voice was loud in...
Weekly Contest #336
Eblana, 137. Faint music woke her in the early light of dawn—fog curling off the Liffey in gentle wisps. The water tugged at her small boat, like fabric snared on a thorn, pulling against the bank’s rocky shore.A lilting rhythm of plucked strings carried over the taffrail, drifting through the shallow curve of the boat and nestling in the space between the crates.Sleepily, she rubbed her face on the plush wool blanket she’d buried herself under.Somewhere up the muddy slope, a lamb bleated, joining the percussion of soft strings. It sounded l...
Weekly Contest #334
Veric’s breath was hot on her ear, their hand shaking in Serril’s.“Don’t go in there,” Veric breathed, a plea. “It’s not safe. It’s—it’s dangerous, Serril, please.”Serril surveyed the tall pines, weighing the way they loomed above against Veric’s warning. Between the branches, lights bobbed. Small things, like the dancing flames of candles, casting a rose-orange glow over the needles and the soft dusting of snow. Eyeless, they regarded her from the treeline. Serril tried—uselessly—to discern the mood of the small balls of light.“It doesn’t s...
Weekly Contest #333
[Trigger warnings: This story deals with grief after death, heavy alcohol use on page, and brief mention of suicide.] “You’re eating,” Scylla said slowly, his eyebrows raised in surprise at the small mortal swaying and humming tunelessly over a steaming pot.“No,” Echo drawled, holding up the bottle in her hands. “I’m drinking. And you’re standing in my doorway like a pest.”“And cooking,” he replied, pointing a finger at the small, uncontained fire she’d seemingly built so unceremoniously in the middle of the room.She didn’t respond, just con...
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