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Weekly Contest #323
The Unspeakable Name Jean returned to the dressing room at the rear of the family church to find her sister pacing the faded green and cream rug. Her bridal veil had gone a little lopsided, but Jean thought better of mentioning it. DeeDee’s white satin gown tangled hopelessly around her short, shapely legs. “Jean,” DeeDee said, “It’s about time you got back in here. Fix my gown, would you? It’s driving me nuts.” Jean gathered her own silk gown and approached DeeDee, but she wouldn’t hold still long enough. “He’ll come.” “Why would he be so ...
Weekly Contest #289
Sometimes reconnecting with long lost friends leads to rousing a sleeping dog. Whether it wanted to be woken up was another matter, especially if it was woken up by the person who abandoned it. Michelle’s attention diverted from her friend, Angel, in the passenger seat, as a familiar hulking figure walking a pit bull up came into view. The last few sentences of Angel’s conversation fragmented into meaninglessness the closer they got to the dogwalker. As going over a yellow speed bump jostled the car, Michelle’s stomach lurched, her jaw set d...
Weekly Contest #213
Sometimes the thing you choose as the clear winner turns into a steaming pile of shit. I used to tell everyone that artificial intelligence marked the start of a revolution guaranteed to improve the world. It would give people time to do what they love and create a new leisure class - with me in it of course. Ha. Nothing will revolutionize humanity like a dose of humiliation. “Davionne will be with you soon,” the assistant said from the office doorway. “Make yourself comfortable, Tommy.” She closed the door, leaving me in a silent an...
Weekly Contest #194
In honor of the memory of dearly departed friends from Twitter’s writing community, Dawn Hosmer, Laila Doncaster, and Scott Bebe. I unlocked the front door and burst into the living room. “Laila!” I called out, barely acknowledging the tempting food aromas coming from the kitchen. “You can’t believe how this jerk almost hit me on the highway. Like he didn’t even see me.” “Hi, Mom!” She poked her head full of caramel-colored plaits around the corner. “Are you okay? I hope you like dinner.” The hightop counter was set with two plates of ...
Weekly Contest #174
CW: ableism, abuseThe Contest“What do you think the new director will do first?” Lisandra asked, as she stowed her purse in her locker in the spa’s breakroom.“As long as he doesn’t change the add-on menu, right?” Chevelle said, next to her.“He can’t touch it!”“You’re the add-on queen, girl.”Just as Lisandra flung her hair with pride at her earned title, a new voice began talking.“Everything is changing,” Mark announced as he entered the breakroom on his first day as spa director. He was the only one in the room in a suit jacket. “For the bet...
Weekly Contest #173
It was my first time in Shawn’s apartment since he’d moved, and since our hiatus. He frequently referred to himself as “just a street kid from Miami,” so I wasn’t expecting anything elaborate in this apartment. But once I stepped into the living room with sunlight pouring in through the sliding glass doors, felt dwarfed by his flat screen TV, giggled inwardly at the tangle and stacks of tech gadgets, and took in the spaciousness, I knew he’d come a long way. His sofa was basic beige, but covered in microfiber, so it was soft and inviting. He...
Weekly Contest #147
Contains sexually explicit language I sat in the dark next to my best friend, Dylan, in our favorite seats just a few rows behind dead center of our small town’s sole movie theater. We’d just slurped the last of our Cokes and nearly finished the popcorn and Goobers when the movie ended abruptly without a satisfactory landing. I suspected the romantic angle wedged into the story line made Dylan want to puke, but he sat quietly. French film - no plot, no tension, no explosions. “I heard a rumor that theaters across America were getti...
Weekly Contest #109
The Promotion by Mackenzie Littledale I was an assassin, yet nothing and no one I’d ever faced shook me to my core like seeing my mom in this hospital bed. Her supine frame—twenty pounds lighter than just a week ago—made me feel powerless, not the invincible son she’d raised. A forked tube disappeared into her nostrils; her mouth hung open. I’m six-four and my knees wobbled at the thought of losing her. I dropped down into the armchair and pulled up to her bedside. Her hand felt frail, even though just two months before, this same hand had...
Weekly Contest #102
Cielo Azul A short story by Mackenzie Littledale 7/15/2021 word count 1628 “What do you mean, the blue sky is an illusion?” my mother asked, shock writ large on her face, hand poised on the door handle of the passenger side of my car. Her sheer terror scared me for a second. I thought she might get out of my car, so I had to ameliorate the situation. I was happy to explain, sure she’d grasp my meaning and praise my intellect. “I mean, when you look at earth from space, there is no blue sky. You can see straight through the ai...
Weekly Contest #94
Even a Blind Man Could See It A Short Story by Mackenzie Littledale 05/20/2021 “So what did the doctor say, Mom?” I asked over the phone and plunked my purse down on the sofa. “I’ve been trying to reach you all day.” “You were? I was home. Must not have heard the phone.” Her nonchalance didn’t sit well with me. “What were the heart monitor’s results?” “I don’t need the pacemaker after all,” she said. I could hear the smile in her voice. It reminded me of a kid with a kazoo. Not that her voice was twangy, but sheer childlike h...
Weekly Contest #66
Staring at the Inbox By Mackenzie Littledale November 3, 2020 Michelle sat staring at her inbox since 5:30 AM, nearly two hours. It wasn’t even a weekday, but her literary agent worked odd hours, so it could come at any time. It -- the announcement of whether or not the next publisher on the list was offering to buy her manuscript. Already, five publishers had been given the chance. Three declined and two remained silent. Michelle considered them a practice round to make sure the pitch was tight like a hermetically sealed glass jar. The pu...
Weekly Contest #54
Bailing A short accompaniment to This Darkness is Mine By Mackenzie Littledale 8/7/2020 Michelle downed the last of her Chianti and paced Joe’s living room. “It’s time for me to apologize to your friend and his wife,” she said, racked with guilt. Joe put down his highball of whiskey on the wood and glass coffee table. “I was wondering when you’d come around to that,” he said, rolling his ‘R’ in his heavy Cuban accent. She let out a heavy breath, wishing for more alcohol, but it was almost bedtime, time to take her medication. “I couldn...
Weekly Contest #42
A Short Story by Mackenzie LittledaleInspired by a poem by Shona MossNarcoticOrland let out a primal grunt as he climaxed. He collapsed and rolled onto his back beside the foreign woman, whose name escaped him. “You can go now,” he said, losing interest in her. Orland moved to sit at the edge of the bed with his back to her so he didn’t have to see her delicate porcelain features out of sorts. Sneering, he reached behind to push her clothes in her direction.She gasped, clutched her clothes and hurried to dress. Orland followed her to keep he...
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