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Weekly Contest #145
One Hot Night Carolyn Wellsley Bochar was the wealthiest woman residing on the Cap d’ Azure. She was able to lay claim to the title thanks to the genius and wealth of her late husband Norman who knew a great deal about fine wine, valuable real estate and beautiful women. In the instance of wine he had made a fortune in the Alexander Valley of California , growing a Cabernet Sauvignon which, even at an average release price of five hundred dollars per bottle, was snapped up each and every year by connoisseurs from Boston to Beijing. He had...
Weekly Contest #139
CW: Satirical portrayal of Adolf Hitler and the Nazi regime, dark humor, and references to historical violence The Real Hitler Diaries Author’s note: For those not old enough to remember the 1980’s, one of the most astonishing events of that decade was the discovery of diaries kept by Adolph Hitler. Stern Magazine, Newsweek and the Sunday Times in London all planned to serialize and publish and were prepared to hand over millions of dollars to the man who found them.There was one problem though: The diaries were fake, forged by a petty but ...
Weekly Contest #137
The Outcasts of Granny Flats An Original Story (But With Apologies to Bret Harte's 'Outcasts of Poker Flat') As John Brokeworse, a gambler known to numerous San Diego casino pit bosses stepped onto the street, he noticed his landlord and several other homeowners conversing together, their voices lowering as he drew closer. He expected as much since he and the other residents of tiny backyard apartments had reached the end of their thirty day notice and now the hour had come to gather their possessions and move along so that new renters...
Tell Us A Grotesquie “Oh, injector, not yet!” Pleaded Moroga. “tell us a story before you turn down the illuminators.” “Yes Injector,” Orlok chimed in from his pallet. “In fact, tell us a Grotesquie. You know how much I enjoy those tales." Jywar paused at the illuminator panel. He knew it wasn’t a good idea to let the product become stimulated by too many Grotesquies, but perhaps a short one wouldn't hurt. “I don’t know about a Grotesquie,” said Moroga, using her usual keen sense. “They keep me from repose.” “Then perhaps I better not ...
The Trial of Big Bill Gantz When he looked down from the stage, all Horace saw were the shadowed heads of horses off in a hollow below the roadway, a sunken area given over to sagebrush and weeds. There were no riders to be seen, no movement save for the fluttering of horse manes as the animals danced a little against one another. But it was a certainty that there had to be people---several people---nearby even if they had left their animals tied up in the swale. Because he believed caution trumped valor, Horace cocked both barrels of h...
Weekly Contest #118
The Outcasts of Granny Flats An Original Story (But With Apologies to Bret Harte) As John Brokeworse, a gambler known to numerous San Diego casino pit bosses, stepped onto the street he noticed his landlord and several other homeowners conversing together, their voices lowering as he drew closer. He expected as much since he and the other residents of tiny apartments had reached the end of their thirty day notice and now the hour had come to gather their possessions and move along so that new renters willing to pay more could move into...
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