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Submitted to Contest #325
A whitehead bursts under my fingernail just as I lean in toward the microphone. I wipe the gunk on my orange polyester uniform. Decency leaves you fast at a dead-end job like this. With a sigh, I begin my rote speech.“Thank you for riding the Seawinder Coaster. Please keep your lapbelt down until the ride comes to a complete stop. And may your seaaaaas be calm! Arggh.”Someday I’ll fuck up the safety talk, see if anyone notices. But not today.I press the launch button.The coaster creeps toward the first hill. As if on cue, every rider mutely ...
Submitted to Contest #324
Content warning: Mental health/ self-harm. Lyla Anderson shifts the ill-fitting dentures across her gums. Corpse-white, cheap Chinese resin: all that Medicaid would spring for. She massages her jaw, attempting to quiet the shriek inside her skull from the phone. “Mrs. Anderson,” the voice continues. “Are you still with me?” Agony. Lyla wrenches the receiver from her face. But still the shriek continues. Loud, piercing, bubbling from inside, from the walls themselves, pushing her batty until— —she finds it. That budget hearing aid, stuck agai...
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