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Weekly Contest #62
I am doing ok. I am perfectly aware that this is not a stellar way to introduce a story. It lacks in description and throws all rules of engaging writing into the trash. Besides, “ok” is a sub-par adjective. But I cannot think of any other way to describe how I’m feeling. Ok. I booked a flight last week. Fly to the beautiful city of Portland, only $203! Last I checked, $203 is an outrageous sum of money to fly somewhere you don’t want to go. And to be clear, I don’t want to go to Portland. The only reason I booked a flight was peer pressure ...
Weekly Contest #61
They say I was born in a terrible time. My dear grandmother always says, “Oh I wish you could have seen the days before. The days when life was more peaceful! But you will never see that age. I pity you, my little Margaux.” My parents worry about our future. They say Max and I will have it rough when we are grown up with our own children. Papa says we are in the middle of a “revolution”. He says Frenchmen are turning on their own brothers. That a man named Robespierre is beheading people in the streets. I wouldn’t know, I haven’t ventured in...
Weekly Contest #58
There is nothing I would love more than to make you leave for good. To tell you to never come back and you comply without a second thought. I’ve tried, believe me. You always come back. You make it hard to sleep, then you haunt my dreams. You turn excitement into fear, and confidence into worry. Do you remember that night last year? I had the lead role in the play of my dreams. Sure, it was a play at our local community theatre and not Broadway, but I memorized every line, every pause, and every dramatic hand motion or fake cry. I bubbled...
Weekly Contest #56
I had no good reason to dislike Bella as much as I did. She had a sweet smile and soft brown eyes. Her dark brown hair always looked smooth and elegant. She was quiet and pleasant, and her voice was calm with a slight Southern accent. She used her genius IQ for the benefit of science fairs and fundraising for the school, and she built Rube Goldberg machines in her free time. I had no reason to dislike Bella as much as I did. But when she joined our study club last month, I immediately wanted her to leave. We all sat at our table in the libra...
Weekly Contest #55
I put my head down on my desk, closed my eyes, and covered my ears. The teacher hadn’t even been gone five minutes, and the entire class of kids had lost their minds. Room 205 was the last classroom in the hallway. Two supply closets separated it from Room 202, Mrs. Davidson’s, and made it nearly impossible to hear what was going on in there. Despite being 1) a boy, 2) a senior, and 3) on the basketball team, I tend to lean towards introversion. I rarely take part in the pranks and trouble the other stereotypical jocks pull. My name has be...
Weekly Contest #53
Morgan glared at the thermostat outside her window, hoping that if she stared hard enough it would cool itself down. It read 97 degrees. The melting creamsicle in Morgan’s hand confirmed it. The bed felt hot and uncomfortable. The cast on her throbbing leg could pass as a portable sauna. She looked around her bedroom for something to do. The pale green walls were lined with photos of flowers that looked like they might shrivel up in the heat. A mediocre breeze was blowing through the open windows. Her beloved bookcase held dozens of books or...
Weekly Contest #51
Violetta plopped on the floor and glared at her floral basket. She had pulled it out from under the bed to find that it was empty. Very, very, empty. This wasn’t any ordinary basket. This basket held her beloved cookies. She had won a pack of shortbreads, her favorite snack, at preschool on Friday, and she was saving them for a special occasion. But now they were gone. She perched in front of the basket and thought for an exceptionally long time. Could she have eaten them? No. She would remember something as special as eating shortbread. S...
Weekly Contest #50
“Somebody, stop him!” I glanced down at the loot I had just stolen and stuffed it in my shirt. After snatching it from the hands of an unsuspecting woman, I darted across the sidewalk away from Second Street. Pedestrians crowded the area, making a quick getaway difficult. I peered over my shoulder only to see a police guard right on my tail. “Stop, thief!” My meticulously organized robbery was now in full swing. Darting past dozens of bystanders, I whipped out my cell phone and fumbled with it momentarily. “Where are you?” “Ninth Street...
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