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Weekly Contest #337
The Winner Pops led me into the stadium near the finish line. He picked out a seat three rows up from the track. It was made of hard plastic and blue like the lanes below. The seats were numbered, mine said 2. He set his jacket down on the other seat, 1. “This is the best seat, son,” he said. “You can see me fly over that finish line.” He rested his hand on the back of my seat and pulled his foot all the way back so that it touched his back. I thought I heard his knee groan. Then he turned and did the same with his other leg. “The key is to ...
Weekly Contest #319
A Good Boy The doorbell rang and Dan lumbered towards the door. His bark turned into a wheeze after only three yelps. He lowered his head and struggled to suck in air. I looked at his frame, it was thicker than it was last May. His jowls hung and his chest swelled with each struggling breath. Not normal for seven-year-old Malinois. I started to stand up but sat back down. The door was unlocked and Lydie came every Tuesday afternoon to clean. “Bonjour Mr. Maurel,” her voice sang from the front door. It slammed shut. Dan dragged himself back t...
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