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Weekly Contest #370
In 1994, Leo had a dream. He was thirteen years old. In the dream, his mother was in a boat when a crocodile suddenly attacked her. She fought it fiercely. Somehow, she managed to fight it off, and eventually the crocodile disappeared. She was badly scarred, but she survived.Leo didn’t think much of the dream when he woke up. To him, it was just a strange dream that a thirteen-year-old might have and forget by breakfast. What Leo didn’t know was that his mother was already fighting for her life. Two weeks later, his parents told him tha...
Weekly Contest #367
John was walking down a street, carrying a worn duffel bag over his shoulder. His uniform was faded. His heart pounded as he approached a house. It was home. The war was over. But as he got closer, he stopped and looked at his house closely. Something was wrong. The windows were dark. The paint was peeling. The front porch sagged. Weeds had grown through the cracks in the walkway, and there was papers, empty bottles and cans scattered across the yard. He walked quickly at first then started running to the front door. It was unlocked. He push...
Weekly Contest #354
Milos had never liked the sea. It wasn’t fear exactly but there was something about the way the horizon swallowed everything that unsettled him. So when the ship cut through the gray water toward Crete, he stood near the stern and watched Athens shrink into a smudge, as if distance alone might erase what awaited them. There were fourteen of them, seven young men and maidens on this ship heading toward their imminent death disguised as a ceremonial tribute. Milos knew better. He looked at the others who were quieter than a sanctuary in the te...
Weekly Contest #350
“We’ll be in touch.”John let out a dry breath. They wouldn’t. He rested his forehead on the steering wheel and sat there to collect his thoughts. His mind replayed the interview in fragments. The dread forced smile, the way the interviewer’s eyes drifted past him, the subtle shift in tone when he talked about being laid off because his factory shut down. It was not his fault. Almost every factory shut down, and all the jobs went to South American countries. Factory work didn’t translate well in rooms like that. Neither did desperation. He ha...
Weekly Contest #347
Eva pulled her hoodie tighter around herself as she stepped onto the treadmill, even though she was already warm. There's a dull ache sitting behind her eyes that pulses every time she looks down. She typed the same numbers from the past three days at the same speed and with the same incline. No adjustments to compensate for her sickness, or that she hasn't taken a day off from the gym for the past nine days in a row. Adjustments meant weakness. The treadmill started, slow at first, then faster, until it settled into the rhythm she knew by h...
Weekly Contest #342
The factory floor appeared different tonight, as though it knew Miguel was about to leave it behind. He wiped his hands on a rag already stained black, feeling the deep itch underneath his skin for something clean, for escape, for breathing room. The oily tang clung to his fingers and, as he wiped, his gaze locked on the clock bolted above the supervisor’s office. Amid the hush between machine cycles, the punch press at his side clanged once every minute, its hard-metal echo spelling out the seconds until freedom. Each impact thudded through...
Weekly Contest #336
Noah woke to the ache of a cold leather loveseat, his cheek pressed into the sagging arm, his left hand gripping a tiny pillow. The room was dim, the curtains still drawn, the gray winter light leaking in around their edges like an unwelcome guest. For a moment, he lay still, listening to the apartment breathe with pipes ticking, refrigerator humming, and the distant hiss of his heater. Noah grabbed his phone, still in his lap, and saw that it was 8:19 a.m. There was a text notification on there, which he cleared away when he saw the name. I...
Weekly Contest #313
Andy sat in the glow of his TV screen, headset on, fingers twitching over the controller. Empty cans of energy drinks were scattered all over his carpet, where the sun cast golden bars across. Andy was exhausted, but the battle had been raging for weeks, and he was not about to quit now. Then, he heard him."Still wasting your life in there?" his father's voice cut through the hallway, sharp as ever."Your cousin Danny was accepted to MIT and has an internship lined up for the summer already. And what are you doing? You can't even get out of b...
Weekly Contest #311
Kaya rested her head on the subway window as she turned the music down on her headphones to get some sleep, as she was the only one in the car. As soon as she closed her eyes, her phone rang in her ears. It was a FaceTime call. "What are you doing up so early, Bree?" "Are you almost home, Mommy?""Soon, baby, go back to sleep, okay? ""I can't... Uncle Tommy is snoring again, and Grandma is making too much noise in the kitchen. " "Turn on your Moshi sound, and I will be home soon to give you some back scratches, okay? But I'd better see you i...
Weekly Contest #309
This love story will not have a happy ending. No sunlit porch, no fading smile, no gentle hand-holding, or road trips with music blasting into the warm air of the southwest. Just silence and the wreckage of what once burned bright. Damn, the ones who sold you the dream and wrapped love in ribbon as if it was a gift. No. Love ends in ash and aching bones. It ends in words unsaid and in tears that come in gargantuan waves that would have sunk Noah's ark. It ends in darkness and nights alone, in betrayal, in longing, in the slow erosion of some...
Weekly Contest #305
As the dusk settled over the city, a lone figure lay on the grass, eyes fixed on the imposing mansion that loomed in the distance. Clad in dark clothing that blended with the gathering darkness, his fingers gingerly traced the cold metal of the rifle in his hands. Although he had been in this position for an hour, his trained mind remained focused. He looked through the scope to see if his target had arrived, but the street was still empty. In the stillness of the evening, the man's mind drifted back to the events of the past seven days, whi...
Weekly Contest #304
"Smile. . . it confuses people." Mrs. Miller encouraged her student. The teenager groaned and then rolled his eyes before walking to the front of the class. It was speech day, the last one of the year, hopefully forever, because he hated speeches. Suddenly, he stopped and looked at her as if he had just realized what she said. "What did you say?" he whispered to her. "Smile?" she asked inquisitively, unsure what was wrong. "uh, no. . . after that." "Oh. . . it confuses people," she paused, "because you are always so serious, you know? As a j...
Weekly Contest #303
Fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead as the sterile hallway stretched endlessly. The thudding of boots hitting tile broke the monastic silence. A man in a wrinkled military uniform barreled around a corner, breath ragged, sweat trailing from his brow despite the cool air. He was late. . .again. He glanced at room numbers, eyes darting, 214. . . 216. . .218, his pace quickened. Then he saw it: Room 220. He skidded to a halt in surprise as the door swung violently open, and a toddler ran through with his dad running behind him, telling h...
Weekly Contest #301
Poppy Simon's fifteen minutes of fame came when she was thirty-eight. It came precisely twelve weeks after she signed her divorce and resignation papers at her Christopher Columbus High School work office on a Friday afternoon. A few minutes after signing, she took the envelopes and walked 25 steps into the principal's office, sprang open his door while ignoring a mildly protesting secretary, left both of the envelopes on his desk while he was on the phone, gave him the middle finger, turned around, and left. He tried to say something, but ...
Weekly Contest #286
Daniel sat on the edge of his couch, staring at the blinking lights of a small, artificial Christmas tree he had purchased from Walmart the week before. It wasn't much—just a few feet tall, with thin branches and cheap plastic ornaments—but it was all he could manage this year. He had no energy to make it better, no heart to pretend everything was okay. The room was silent except for the hum of the heater struggling to warm the drafty apartment. Outside, snowflakes swirled under the amber glow of the streetlights, dusting the rooftops and em...
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