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Weekly Contest #376
I The water changes before anything else does. The deeper currents run clean and steady, but near the shallows the sea tastes busy—oil, metal, and the faint trace of many moving bodies. Sound comes as pressure. Thumps. Splashes. Limbs beating the surface. Nothing moves with the clean rhythm of fleeing prey. Their shapes flicker above me, kicking without purpose. Some drift motionless. Others thrash and turn, filling the water with overlapping pulses. The surface trembles with them. I move closer. The water warms. Their scents strengthen. Sal...
Weekly Contest #375
I Hes wakes to darkness. Not pre-dawn darkness—mechanical darkness. The kind that exists because something has stopped working. His optics adjust slowly. A narrow corridor comes into view around him: pipes running along the ceiling, dust-coated panels, exposed wiring hanging from an open junction box. Somewhere behind the walls, machinery produces a low, continuous hum. He doesn’t know how long he’s been here. He doesn’t know if he has been anywhere else. He searches for something before this place and finds nothing. He only knows his name....
I The first warning came at 6:43 on a Thursday evening. Daniel was locking the rear entrance of Halpern Hardware when the phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, expecting another reminder about his medication. WITHDRAW CASH BEFORE YOU GO HOME. He read it twice. “I didn’t ask you to remind me about that.” The voice answered through his earbuds. “You should do it anyway.” Daniel stopped with the key still in the lock. “How much?” “Five hundred dollars.” He looked across the empty loading area. A shopping cart rested against the chain-li...
Weekly Contest #374
Paul sat on the sofa, the television casting a faint glow across the living room. A newscaster droned on about the weather. Paul wasn’t listening. The steady voice was almost soothing. His head began to bob. Once. Twice. He tried to stay awake, but exhaustion won. His chin fell to his chest. Paul stood up. He turned to the small table beside the sofa, took his keys and wallet, and headed for the front door. He opened it. Before stepping outside, he looked back. There was Paul, still on the sofa, fast asleep. He stared at the sleeping man for...
Weekly Contest #373
CW: mental health issues, suicide, murder, gun violence I The cart hits mine harder than it should. Metal on metal. A sharp clang that echoes too loudly in the aisle. I look up and he’s already glaring at me — this man I’ve never seen before, jaw tight, eyes narrowed, like he’s been waiting all day for someone to bump into. His hand tightens on the cart handle. Mine does too. I feel the heat rising in my chest, the stupid, pointless anger that comes from nowhere and means nothing. “Watch where you’re going,” he snaps. “I was,” I hear myself...
Weekly Contest #372
I The kitchen was quiet except for the soft tick of the wall clock and the distant rush of waves against the cliff. Paul sat at the table in his usual spot, nursing a mug of coffee, already dressed for work—blue suit, white shirt, charcoal tie. Laurie sat across from him, sipping her own coffee. They talked the way long-married couples do when the day is just beginning. Weekend plans. The grocery list. Whether the gutters needed clearing before the rainy season. “Did you call the plumber?” she asked. “Yeah, he’s coming Saturday,” Paul said. ...
I The wind had died by the time Sarah reached her apartment. She stepped out of the car still trembling, breath uneven, pulse refusing to settle. The jog had started like every other morning—routine, familiar, safe. Now her eyeliner ran in thin black streaks down her cheeks, leaves clung to her gray sweatpants, and her clothes hung crookedly on her body. Inside, the door clicked shut behind her. She stood still, listening. Nothing followed her in. That should have helped. It didn’t. Her gaze drifted to the wall clock. The red LED numbers glo...
Weekly Contest #370
I Jacob sank into his recliner and let the TV drone some weather segment he didn’t bother to register. He reached for his laptop, flipped it open, and moved the cursor over the familiar icon. He hesitated. Then clicked. A window bloomed onto the screen. A search bar. A greeting. Good morning, Jacob. What’s on your mind today? He stared at it for a moment then typed: I have a question. The reply came instantly. Take your time, Jacob. Ask whenever you’re ready. The cursor blinked—steady, patient, almost expectant. Jacob finally typed: Is there...
Weekly Contest #369
I Skipper gripped the wheel with both hands as the old fishing boat slammed through the choppy water. The storm behind him was growing, a dark wall swallowing the horizon inch by inch. He glanced at the monitor, the stern‑mounted camera aimed straight at the approaching monster. “It won’t catch us, old pal,” he muttered. The boat rocked violently, climbing each wave like a tired horse forced into one more gallop. He shoved the throttle forward and laughed out loud as the engine roared. “You got this,” he said. Then— Everything stopped. Not t...
Weekly Contest #367
I David’s last minute at the hospital feels like a lifetime. Twelve grueling hours of emergency deliveries, crying newborns, worried mothers, nurses weaving through the hallway like a current he’s fighting against. The fourth‑floor maternity ward is packed, bodies moving in every direction, voices overlapping, monitors chiming. He barely registers any of it. His eyes are fixed on the red door at the end of the corridor. Freedom. He walks fast, hoping no one stops him, hoping he can slip out before someone calls his name. The door is beautifu...
Weekly Contest #366
I Anthony McKenzie returned from the past expecting the world to fracture. He had changed something enormous—something history should have screamed about. Instead, the present greeted him with the same traffic and the same indifferent sky. It was as if time had watched him interfere, considered the alteration, and quietly declined to acknowledge it. Anthony sat in his parked car long after the engine died, staring at the intersection — gray asphalt, cracked crosswalk, the bakery on the corner with its red awning — like it was a riddle he’d f...
Weekly Contest #363
I The whistle of the kettle dragged Karla out of sleep like a hand yanking her upward. She jerked halfway off the mattress, one arm braced behind her, staring at the bedroom door. For a moment she didn’t move. She wasn’t even sure she was awake. The kettle kept going, shrill and insistent, until it cut off mid‑note. Silence followed—brief, thin—then the soft clatter of something in the kitchen. Metal against ceramic. A drawer sliding open. Someone moving things. Her stomach dropped. She swung her legs out of bed, grabbed her robe, and wrapp...
Weekly Contest #359
PRIMORDIAL VARIANT I Seth sat at the kitchen table, scrolling through the morning news. Alder moved quietly around the kitchen, preparing breakfast with smooth, efficient motions — the kind meant to be invisible. Seth didn’t look up when he spoke. SETH: You ever think about… not being here? Alder paused mid-motion. Not long enough to be suspicious — but long enough for Seth to notice. ALDER: If you would like me to leave the room, I can. SETH: No. I mean… permanently. Alder turned its head slightly — a gesture designed to mimic human curios...
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