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Weekly Contest #351
The man who gave me life will die tonight by my own hand. He will die at the exact moment he gave me the curse of life. I can't take my own; I will take his. I remember the moment I was born. Two weeks ago on this day. Christmas Eve. It was dark. He hasn't put my chocolate chip eyes in yet. The cold air flew into the beast of the machine that I was in as he opened its door. My body was warm and soft. I could feel every breath threatening to implode my soft inner core. Every exhale pushed my body down into the pan that was smoldering on my ...
Weekly Contest #348
I always knew something was wrong with the people in this town. Always watching you as you drove down Main Street or walked to grab a drink in town. Grandma Darla sat on her front porch in the blistering heat of the Arizona summer in her black dress, raising one white eyebrow as my tires shot out sand and pebbles. I'd look in my rearview mirror, and she would continue staring at my Ford until I was over the small ridge and out of sight. And even then, I would feel her gaze cutting right through the ridge and into my mind like a laser beam ho...
Weekly Contest #255
Bam! Clayton’s hand goes through the wall, creating a large hole next to two others. “Damit!” The TV blares in front of him as sports announcers talk about the play that just scored a touchdown with ten seconds left on the clock. The 60-year-old Clayton holds a beer in his other hand. His jaw clenches and nostrils flare as he looks down at his phone in his lap. Next to him is a pile of empty beer bottles, some not even from today. Dirty clothes are piled around the room, next to overdue bills. &...
Weekly Contest #253
Jared never liked people who sit around all day drinking aperol spritz’s and sunbathing in their backyard, wearing a sunbonnet. He could just imagine the sweat dripping from their brows after they fall asleep while reading one of their romance novels, the peeled red skin, the dropped jaw after realizing the sun burns red. Jared would never have this problem. He was always working, or thinking, or doing. What happened to the kitche...
Weekly Contest #252
His feet are in step with mine. Same rhythm, same force applied to the crunchy leaves on the ground. He has been following me for the past ten minutes. Every curve in the trail, every fork in the road, he has followed. The trees sway in the misty wind, far above, while the frogs chirp and the birds croak down below. I hear his steps, not quite, but slamming into the ground, causing a shockwave. &...
Weekly Contest #249
Mark drives down the foggy dirt road in his black jeep. The dirt under his tires shoots up from beneath them as they try to cling to the ground. He can barely see a few feet in front of him. A stream ran off the side of him, following the side of the road. The headlights are the only light in the road. No city lights reach all the way out here in the middle of nowhere. He is driving to his aunt’s house in the middle of the Gunnison National Forest in Colorado. She sounded spooked when she called him, but the line broke up before she could s...
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