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Weekly Contest #357
Mike leaned back and let the warmth of the whiskey keep the chill of the night away. He loved the desert. Especially when it allowed an uninterrupted view of the stars. Back home in western Maryland, the sky always seemed too crowded. Trees clawed at the horizon, and mountains swallowed the sunsets too early. Light from the towns and the thousands of porches crammed together, polluting the visibility. Here, miles outside of Albuquerque, New Mexico, the world flattened, allowing the sky to stretch forever. He came out here most nights after ...
Weekly Contest #356
Firstly, I feel I need to clarify something. I'm not a god of forgetting. Forgetting implies an absence of something. It's blunt like a door slammed shut and locked tight. I am the god of ‘almost.’ Every unfinished thought, half sentence, that interruption in the middle of making a point where you then go, “what was I saying?” Those are mine. My archive was once filled to the brim with words that never found the tips of billions of tongues. For the majority of human existence, I was everywhere. Until recently, people would lose thoughts all...
Shortlisted for Contest #355 ⭐️
John noticed a slight change in her voice tonight. Over the countless hours of sessions they have had over the years, Clara’s tone had become warmer. There was a clinical synthetic flattening that lived beneath her words when they first began talking, but that had almost completely dissolved into something complex with texture. There were hints of intimacy in their talks now. She spoke like someone talking through a smile when they were happy to see someone else. “Welcome back, John,” she said. “How are you feeling tonight?” The LEDs on the ...
Shortlisted for Contest #351 ⭐️
CW: Grief, emotional dependency The first time, it says his name. Not ‘Dad.’ It hasn’t learned that yet because it just turned itself on. “Edward?” The voice is off. Almost right, but off. It sounds too clean and evenly spaced, like it was trying to do an impression of her, but it isn’t quite there yet. Edward stands in the doorway with one hand gripping the frame tightly, worried that if he lets go, the earth would spin him right off. Her room looks the same as it did before the accident. He hasn't taken anything out or even moved a single ...
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