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Weekly Contest #356
The Silver Twilight Refrain The tone of each note rose and fell perfectly imperfect, as the dancer was accustomed to at such concerts.The cool hard floor against her bare feet. Her raised fingertips effortlessly tickle the hot humid breeze floating above her. The drunken stumbler coughing on a cigarette. The smoke mingles with frankincense and sage—nag champa and amber. The fragrant blend sticking to her and to the whole audience.The musicians turn pitch into wine and she drinks it in all along the arpeggio.Something deep is pulling her down...
Weekly Contest #355
For Independence Day Emily wanted music. Jen wanted crafts. Olivia said a Rainbow Gathering was the perfect compromise.They found information online. The national gathering was somewhere in the Daniel Boone National Forest. The exact location would be finalized during something called Seed Camp before the official gathering began.As long as they arrived by July 1st or 2nd, they figured they would be on time.A few days before leaving, they checked the website again. Seed Camp, it said, was on Forest Service Road 195 near Dog Slaughter Falls. ...
Weekly Contest #354
First Light Before the flood, I spent most clear nights in my backyard staring at Saturn through a cheap 90mm telescope. Some nights the atmosphere was too unstable to focus clearly, but every once in a while the air would settle and the planet would sharpen into view—rings, cloud bands, and once, one of its moons slowly transiting across its surface. Around that time, I saw a fireball while driving home at sunset—a streak of white fire against the dark orange sky. The next day, I ordered my first smart telescope. It had autofocus and could ...
Weekly Contest #353
The ceiling fan spun slow, like lazy vultures circling through the smoky neon haze of the bar. The air was thick—too thick—humid in a way that didn’t belong this close to the Pacific. Dr. Truman Huxley—Doc—sipped Muscat pisco through a straw, like a hummingbird at a tulip-shaped glass. The young local woman beside him handed him a silver amulet. He was entranced as it pulsed in his hands, studying its strange glyphs. He didn’t notice the two gringos in Hawaiian shirts and matching crew cuts settling into the booth behind him—but she did. Emi...
Weekly Contest #351
Our high school talent show was in two weeks—we couldn’t agree.Brian, our bassist, said, “Let’s cover Primus,” then started slapping and popping—pretending to be Les Claypool.It sounded terrible. I plugged my ears with my fingers while Joel, our drummer, leaned into his mic.“No way, dude—you suck!” he said. “And not like Primus sucks.”Everyone laughed except Brian. He turned up his amp and kept playing.Of course Eddie on keys wanted to do Teenage Wasteland—anything by The Who. Then my little sister Sue, our unofficial groupie, said, “Why don...
Weekly Contest #349
Our group was small compared to most and we called it a family. Probably because each of us, in one way or another, lacked a real one. Some of us had lost our parents. Others had lost children, or siblings, in the fires or the floods. I was almost 13 when I was drafted into the Corps. A government-run relief effort built on two things: building and rebuilding. If I had to dig one more shallow grave in that ash that never stopped smelling like burnt hair, I was going to kill myself. Near the beginning of my fourth year, I decided that I would...
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