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Weekly Contest #362
I wore the black slacks from Mango with a white silk blouse I bought off EBay the night I came to break up with my boyfriend.Our relationship had run its course. I had the text written, but I never sent it. After more than a year together I felt obligated to give the news in person.Somehow. “Oh my god you look beautiful!” Chris said as I pushed through his apartment door.Ya right. My face puffed, and my body ached from sweating up the three steep flights to his beige walled apartment. Another reason to end this. I offered him a damp red chee...
Weekly Contest #353
The Wizard awoke, and I knew we weren’t in Kansas anymore. The beeping continued, a dull mechanical tone, 60 beats per minute, steady as a heartbeat. The lights flickered, eyes blinking in blue and green, as it woke to rule our Emerald City.But this Wizard had no heart and was no man. Without even feet, what will I do? In this new world, does a pair of shoes, even if they were ravishing in red rubies, have a place? I used to be important, the most powerful shoes in the whole land. Beautiful women fought over me, to control my magic. Once I c...
Weekly Contest #352
At Camp Rainbow, it's all fun and games until it comes to friendship bracelets, then it’s war. I didn’t plan to be her accomplice; I was just a summer camp counselor! But Sophia, a master criminal, connected the threads, tying me into her plan and there was nothing I could do to escape the knot. I spent my summers at Camp Rainbow as a kid, the runt in the corner, dirty, and ignored. You know her, every cabin has one. But I loved that camp, adored every minute of the silly songs, the campfires, and of course the boys, acne-faced and stinking...
Weekly Contest #346
LondonSeptember, 1939. The morning skies filled with the wailing cries of the lost, and Henry knew he would never find home again. Henry hated not knowing where he was. In his neighborhood he knew every street and every alley, but here he could barely tell up from down. He scrunched closer to the only navigation point he had, gripping his Ma’s elbow tight. He tried to focus on the map spread over her best dress. Ma’s shaking finger pointed where the station was, and where he was going, but the squiggly lines on the paper were no match for th...
Weekly Contest #342
“Gillian!” Pushing through the crowded lobby of her coworkers, she stepped out into the early evening. She couldn’t wait to crash on the couch with John. Love is take-out and a movie. She turned at her name, but the familiar face triggered a slug of fear through her heart. It couldn’t be, it wasn’t possible. She spun to get away. This couldn’t be happening!She knew this was where she was most exposed, the walk from her office building to the garage. Gillian risked a glance back at the crowd behind her. Could it be Gary? A jaw, clenched in an...
Weekly Contest #321
Laura wished she had an axe. The luscious weed monster loomed over her, her hand clippers inept and ludicrous against the beast taking over her yard. The new buds grew as she stood there, expanding fat and obscene in their bright, mossy green. She never should have opened that damn box. 2 days earlierIt sat on the table, still wrapped in shipping paper. Laura’s kids, Tommy, Alex and Holly were practically bouncing off the walls. “Do you think it’s pirate treasure, with coins, and gold chains?” Alex asked. 12 years old, he wore an Arsenal soc...
Weekly Contest #309
Pando was dying when the alien intelligence spoke to him. The blustery wind blew down the Delano Peak, across Fish Lake to shake and rattle the vibrant yellow leaves off tens of thousands of trees. Those that remained whispered soft farewells to their falling neighbors, shimmering in the fading light like so many flashbulbs as they drifted slowly toward the ground. They fell to provide nutrients for the insects, plants, and fungus which grew in and around Pando’s deep and extensive roots. Born in a distant age when the warming climate first...
Weekly Contest #308
***discussions of past violence***** ‘The baby was born early. Please come, I wrote your name as the father.’ Jaime Hernández read his mom’s erratic handwriting over and over on the back of the impossible photograph before he turned to look at the sepia tinged image again. The woman holding the dark skinned newborn, swaddled in a thin pink blanket didn't look so much like his mom, Jaime thought, as it did of himself, just a few years ago before puberty squared his jaw and broadened his shoulders, so young and so scared. Jaime flipped through...
Weekly Contest #307
It was almost the end of the school year, so it was to be expected the Masters of Mayhem would finally come around to bully Ames and his friends. On the good basketball court with Reid, Hudson, and Gideon, hundreds of kids swirled around them during the lunch recess, shouts, feet and balls bounced off the blacktop, walls and each other like so many spinning tops let loose onto the elementary playground. Ames dribbled twice, smooth and easy before leaping up to launch the ball toward the hoop. Bouncing just like his loose brown curly hair, th...
Weekly Contest #298
Bill discovered, to his utter amazement, that writing was hard.He stared at the empty screen, willing the words to come out. He knew his novel would be great, award winning, and an Amazon Best Seller. He just had to write it.An idea flickered in his mind, a beautiful scene of grace, and meaning. As it traveled down his shoulders through his arms, he considered it; was it too elaborate of phrasing, too strong an opinion, too suggestive of a verb? Would anyone like it at all? He edited the scene, cutting out what didn’t work as it moved throug...
Weekly Contest #297
Tim Holl needed more time, more money and a gun.“Damn Greg!” Can’t this tin can go any faster?” The salt spray wind tossed Tim’s blonde hair as he looked back with wide eyes at the impending doom chasing them. Narrow at the shoulder, and wide at the hip, Tim looked like he should behind a desk, and not gripping the gunwale of a shadow boat racing against time, and fate across a dark ocean. Tim and the boat captain Greg might have been the slowest rum runners in the entire county of San Diego, but tonight was their big break, and if everythin...
Weekly Contest #294
I didn’t learn I was different, less than, until Ms. O’Toole’s classroom in 4th grade. I had forgotten all about it, buried it deep in the past until I saw that little girl at the park, no more than ten years old, and my body locked up in terror. Lightning bolts of shame arrested me, striking from a cloudless summer afternoon to stop me mid stride as I walked with John along the edge of the park, late for our appointment at court. The girl had dark brown hair pulled back into two tight ponytails, and wore a sweatshirt and matc...
Weekly Contest #292
Once upon a time there was a balloon that wanted to be free. Born into a large bouquet, she knew freedom once, a brief escape, until a cord was tied to her tail to hold her tight. She pressed up toward the bright blue sky at the edge of the county fair. Small, and squeezed into the middle, she tried to get out but the balloons around her twitched and twirled in a cluster of ever-moving colors; yellows, whites, reds, greens, blues and purples. Violet didn’t know what color she was, but she wished to be colored in...
Weekly Contest #291
The squat blue gray building hummed with danger. Was this where he would find Sophia? Whatever happened, Otis knew after tonight everything would change. Even in the barren wasteland of the old industrial district, the cement block warehouse stood out. Like an ancient mausoleum, the words ‘Ghost Ship’ were painted in 6-foot-tall letters high across the front of the crumbling façade. An auto body shop and a cell phone store girded in steel bars shared the block, but the warehouse was a thing apart. It bre...
Weekly Contest #288
“Words can destroy, warp time and space in ways far greater than they were intended.” She wheezed, sucking in air with shallow breaths as she stared out the window. Arms, thin and frail, pulled the blanket up tight against her chest.“Let me help you.” Father Douglas said, adjusting the blanket to cover the woman. The storm outside rumbled, threatening to break through the glass into the small room. “Those words, back at Carmadean’s Dance Camp, deep in the desert near Ruidoso, New Mexico in the summer of ‘45, they changed the ...
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