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Weekly Contest #95
Icy blue water reflected the intense sun of southeast Iceland, as Ryder Lee Matthews gasped for breath in a rapidly shrinking air pocket under the Fjaðrá River. His mother Ruth warned him that the lack of impulse control was going to kill him. Seems like it was the one thing she was right about. RIP Ryder Lee Matthews, RIP Ryder Lee Matthews. What a ridiculous wordplay to roll through his head while submerged here in some forgotten river in the middle of Iceland. Ryder could swear he could her voice and feel his Dad’s warm embrace while he w...
Weekly Contest #58
Friday 8:30AM February Once you’ve taken this step there is no going back. Looking up at the Tobin Memorial Bridge shimmering in the hot August sun, Jakob realized today is the day he had been contemplating for weeks. The end. Lights out. Dead. Standing there motionless watching the Boston commuters scurry into the T station on their way to jobs they probably hated and families they loved, he was struck with the pain of what brought him here today. The brink of his own personal destruction and part of him wished the people around him could ...
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