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Weekly Contest #333
Sensitive content warning: implied death. The bar was unusually crowded for a Tuesday night. Billiard balls clanked against pool tables, darts against boards, glasses against countertops. Occasionally, women and men alike whooped whenever games were won. Laughs and hugs were shared as I sat alone, wallowing in the same spot I had been sitting in for hours. As I nursed my own glass of scotch, I stared at the bruises peeking out from under my sleeves. I tugged my sleeves down hastily as I felt pressure against my shoulder. Daring to look a...
I leaned against the end of the stairwell, watching my mother guide my younger sister’s hand to stir the bowl. Flour dusted the countertops and Dakota’s curly hair, her giggles filling the house. My mother, a woman full of patience, smiled as Dakota pushed her hand away, insisting she could do the task herself. Dakota was learning how to be more independent, as long as she had Mom’s guidance and instruction. It was endearing but also painful to watch, as it usually ended in a complete mess. Dakota and I had a seven-year age gap, and it was ...
SENSITIVE TOPICS: mentions of an abusive, alcoholic father. Dad’s hand slammed the glass against the dining table. Instantly, it crackled and fell apart, the few remaining droplets of whiskey soaking into the wood. It was a common occurrence in our household, but the sound of glass shattering still made me flinch. Dad had gone through so many glasses over the years; I was surprised that Mom kept buying him more. “What was that for?” I asked quietly. In his unoccupied hand, he held my report card. “You failed math?” His voice roared througho...
Sawyer cracked an egg against the side of a glass bowl, eyes darting back towards the laminated recipe card where his nonna’s handwriting remained entombed in time. The card was older than he was; the recipe passed down from nonna to his parents, then finally to him. The chocolate chip coconut cookies were not supposed to be for him, but for his best friend, whom he had a hilariously huge crush on. Emilia had been home from school for two days now due to getting her appendix out, and he was dying to see her. He figured the cookies were a nic...
Weekly Contest #332
Rain thumped mercilessly around me, soaking my already wet frame. I knew on the other side of the window, each thump sent my best friend under the blankets a little further—a quirk not many knew about her. Despite being seventeen years old, she had terrible ombrophobia. I’d learned about her fear the first time I’d come over to her house. The rain hadn’t even touched the ground before she was throwing herself under the recliner and crying out for her mom. Eight-year-old me had scrambled up the stairs and found her mom in record time, only t...
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