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Weekly Contest #343
It loomed over her, Its face twisted into a snarl. “You’re nothing, you know,” It whispered. “A nobody. A waste of space. A burden.” Her chest ached and she curled up tighter, longing to disappear, to have the pain finally swallow her whole instead of destroying her in polite, bite-sized pieces. A sliver of moonlight peeked through the navy black-out curtains, illuminating Its spasmodic movements. Instead, she squeezed her eyes shut. “What are you waiting for?” Its voice inhabited the no-man’s land between enticing and revolting, both pul...
Weekly Contest #206
Trigger warning: Missing child The day it happened I was five and wearing the light-up sneakers I had begged my mom for during our shopping trip last week. Well, actually I had begged for the ones with my favorite superhero, but they were more expensive and Mom had negotiated me down to generic ones with a character that was just slightly wrong in a way I couldn’t put my finger on. But it didn’t matter, because they lit up, and light-up shoes made you fast. Everyone knew it. Gabriel had gotten a pair last year for Christmas, and he...
Weekly Contest #186
Composer Arnold Schoenberg was infamously terrified of the number 13. Born on September 13, 1874, he couldn’t escape the fear that the cursed number bookmarking his life would ultimately doom him. His fear is said to be the reason for the misspelling of one of his operas, Moses und Aron, because when correctly spelled, the title comprised 13 letters. The musician spent his life haunted by every possible variation of the evil integer: multiples, dividends, sums, differences. It followed him; a black cat lurking and weaving through his conscio...
Weekly Contest #76
The minute we got back from our honeymoon, my husband and I began looking for a house. We went to showing after showing, saw hundreds of paint colors (all shades of gray), and turned our noses up at anything that did not meet our exact specifications. Five bedrooms, three bathrooms, a two-car garage, a basement, a fenced in yard, and new appliances included. While we were on our house hunt, we lived in my husband’s apartment. He had known the landlord for years, so we were able to rent month-to-month. The walls were a flat, eggshell paint...
Weekly Contest #71
"Every year on the second Saturday in December, this small town of three thousand hosts its annual Christmas festival. It's a major tourist event. People come from across the country to enjoy a long weekend away from the cities. Our hotels get booked, our shops sell out, and we make our financial year. It's really what puts us on the map. "We cater to it in obvious ways. We clean up the Square, ban parking on the main streets—believe me, a $250 ticket is NOT worth the convenience—, set up hot chocolate stations, decorate the local shops...
Shortlisted for Contest #69 ⭐️
At the conclusion of meeting #379, Jane covered her webcam, turned off her speakers, and dropped her head into her hands. It was the same every time. These video meetings left her drained and emotional, questioning every word she said, every half-heard phrase, every glitchy movement from her coworkers. It was difficult enough to work from home when communication in companies was so poor, but to add a video meeting to the mix was almost too much for her to handle. At least it’s just for work. And they’re usually relatively short, she tho...
Weekly Contest #67
The day I witnessed the murder was the day I wore my favorite flannel for the last time. It had white paint speckles over the right arm from my sloppy attempts at painting the kitchen, the front pocket was torn down one seam and mostly held on by the button, and the collar was wrinkled and folded in on itself. Finding a good flannel is impossible these days; I swear they're made from sandpaper or tissue paper. But this one, this flannel, had achieved that perfect balance. Three years of washing had broken down the stiff fabri...
Weekly Contest #65
Sarah Williams 1991-2020 Beloved Wife It was simple. Without pretense. The headstone was still polished and gleaming, although the ground around it had settled and no longer appeared disturbed. I've read it over and over again, until the writing was burned into my mind. It haunted me when I closed my eyes, refusing to let me pretend or feign ignorance. Another stone sat beside mine, identical in dimensions and font, although fate had not yet dictated the final date. The side-by-side plots were located in a cemetery minutes f...
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