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Weekly Contest #311
On the one year anniversary of Larry Milford’s execution, I received the letter. Two days after reading it, I turned in my badge and gun, no explanation given. Returning to the precinct at the end of my shift, not feeling any particular way, I found Juliet McBride, senior partner of McBride, Williams, and Clark, Attorneys at Law, seated on a bench and waiting for me, a stuffed manilla envelope lying across her lap. J.J., manning the front desk, leaned forward when he saw me walk in and said, “You’ve got a visitor,” pointing out the smartly-d...
Weekly Contest #293
He is sitting in a carriage, jostled by every irregularity on the dirt road, the rhythmic clip-clop of horse hooves from up ahead drowning out the birdsong endemic to the woodland landscape surrounding him. The air is heavy with moisture, and every inhalation he takes carries a trace of the muskiness worn into the leather seats by countless passengers who’ve ridden this ferry from town to nowhere. Beads of sweat dot his face and the faces of the other two passengers sitting across from him, despite the breeze passing through the open sides o...
Weekly Contest #272
My persistent nose-bleed forecasts the end. And yet, anyone who knows what I know, who has undergone the transition from blind subservience of life’s vicissitudes to the ownership of power over the brief experience of life on Earth, does not regard this inevitability as a moment to be feared. Suffice it to say, regarding this subiect—and please forgive my sudden transition into my native Romanian, for the ‘j’ sound in English in this word always grates my senses—I laugh at the notion of fading into the evanescence of memory. Not because spec...
Weekly Contest #250
He was talking on his phone to someone else, but sitting next to him on the bus, I was subjected to his half of the conversation. “Yes, it’s a dinner party and of course you’re invited!” he insisted with such verve anyone within earshot couldn’t help but hear what he declared to whomever was on the other end of the line. “It’s open invitation. Everyone who wants to come, can.” A momentary shock froze me; I’d never heard of the likes of it, wondering how they could pull off a dinner event without a clear number of expected guests. Within mome...
Weekly Contest #249
He bumped into me. It’s hard to be sure of anything at moments like this, when nothing makes much sense, but he definitely bumped into me and not the other way around. Hell, I didn’t even know he was there or how he’d found me. “Even Steven, Tommy,” I said, my voice sounding not quite right. Little wonder then that someone from the group sitting around the desk shouted out, “What the hell?” I said the only thing that came to mind, “O-o-o-h, you just said a bad word! Mom’s not gonna like that!” And it was true; mom wasn’t going to, not one l...
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