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Weekly Contest #314
They called me the runt. I didn’t mind. I was small, scrappy, quiet. People came and went from the farm, cooing at my brothers and sisters, scooping them up one by one. I watched them go with wagging tails and hopeful hearts. One day, only two of us were left. My brother was chosen by a sweet woman with gentle hands and a soft voice, and a big burly man with the kindest eyes. I watched him walk away with his new mom, tail high, nose lifted to the wind, already dreaming of new adventures. I thought that was the end of my story. I would’ve bee...
Weekly Contest #311
Christina had always been a birthday diva—not for the attention, but because she believed in marking life, in making joy a ritual on “your day.” Growing up, her birthday was always celebrated with love and care. It was one of the few times she felt entirely comfortable being the center of attention—deserving of every candle, every gift, every off-key chorus of “Happy Birthday.”With a summer birthday, celebrations were always near water. Her mother made her favorite foods. Her godmother baked a homemade cake. Even her father—despite his chron...
Weekly Contest #310
Christina had long given up on writing anything. The words were always in her head—swirling, swarming—but never making it to the page. They just festered. Like a cesspool. By day, she clanked away behind a screen—serving the man. By night, she’d stare into another screen, doom-scrolling to avoid the story looping in her mind. A story about a girl who couldn’t stop time but desperately needed to. She couldn’t decide if it was autobiographical or just pathetic. On an oppressively hot Tuesday afternoon, she stopped by Target. The moment she wal...
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