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Weekly Contest #337
It’s hard to remember there was ever a time before Mors. I shudder to think now of the folly of my youth, presuming that I was wholly complete and quite self-satisfied. How little I knew then, like a painter that believes she has just created her magnum opus only to discover there are more colors than black and white. The problem with seeing in color is that when the splendid hues leech away, the gray never regains its splendor.In the beginning, I was entirely alone. There was nothing beyond this blank expanse teeming with possibility. I lai...
Weekly Contest #334
I held my brother’s hand in both of mine and rigorously rubbed his fingers. Their cold rigidity reminded me of the roots we used to scrape from the frozen ground on the harshest nights. I would be grateful now for even these bitter morsels. The skin along my ribs carved stark lines above a concave belly that pulsed rapidly against my shrivelled organs. It had been a week since we ate our last handful of unripe blueberries. Now, even the roots that once would bear us from one scarce season to the next had either been gnawed through by starvin...
Weekly Contest #323
Sidney would always say that Sunday was his favorite day of the week because it's the day of rest. Sunday is my favorite day because it reminds me of how Sidney and I met. I had no idea that it would also be the last day of our life.We met on the set of my one and only movie. As a young pup with nothing except unbridled energy and the desperate need to please, everything was exciting. The sound of the director chattering back and forth with my handler reminded me of birds twittering in the morning. I loved the smell of coffee on the assistan...
Weekly Contest #307
I remember the day that The Changing began. It came as a shock even though I had been warned of its arrival since I was ten. Long conversations with ambiguous terms hinted at the approach of womanhood and the many responsibilities that accompanied it. There were endless TV commercials, forbidden aisles of grocery stores, and the cabinet beneath Mom’s sink which was off limits to little girls, which I am. Or which I was. There were also the times wherein Mom’s momfriends would watch me tug on her arm with all my might during an overly-long co...
Weekly Contest #286
The old man remained idly inside the door to his flat, racking his brain for memories that seemed to retreat from his grasp like minnows, ribbon-like and slippery. Civil Control Station. 8:00AM on Saturday. Essential personal effects. His mind whirred fruitlessly, grasping at these wisps of cloud and trying to tie a thread from one thought to another. Saturday. 8AM. It was Friday afternoon, a brisk March day typical of this lower end of San Francisco. Kiyoshi could always note the afternoon hours by the lances of clean light that cut t...
Weekly Contest #271
Her thumbs pushed deftly into her shut eyelids, as if the pressure could halt the pulsing headache thrumming through her head with a nauseating swell. Mona concentrated on the needling fireworks of color playing against the inside of her eyelids. And, of course, there was that feeling again. That fluttering nestled in the soft cleft beneath the sternum - a flailing, scrambling, slipping need to scream. “Mona, what are you doing? We’re supposed to be walking out the door this minute. Tell me you’re ready to go.” Mona’s eyes snapped open to me...
Weekly Contest #231
The heavy door swung open, ushering in a vacuum of cold air that settled in the bones like a bird landing on a perch. Radio chatter sifted through cinnamon-laced warmth and a freshly purchased fir tree stood proudly in the center of the festively-adorned living room. The hollow patter of little stockinged feet on the dark wood floor coincided with a muffled cry from several rooms away. Suddenly, the home became alive with fumbling footsteps and hurried words exchanged behind a closed door. The stockinged feet propelled themselves into the ar...
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