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Submitted to Contest #339
She brews a cup of tea, watching little sediments of milk twirl around. It’s what happens when you use soy milk sometimes. The sight makes her feel slightly sick. No matter how many times she moves the spoon, in almost a whisking motion, the milk solids refuse to dissolve.There it goes—swirl, swirl, swirl—some messed-up hypnotic tactic that sends her brain into a mad frenzy of annoyance.She dumps the tea down the drain.She hates tea anyway. Why does she even have it?She hates the world. Hates how she starts a task and then gets too hot. Too ...
Submitted to Contest #338
Rain pours down, hitting the open coffee cup and the three dollars resting at the bottom. Despite being tucked against the wall, the overhang above the closed Chinese shop doesn’t quite shield me. It doesn’t matter anyway—the wind howls, pushing sheets of rain sideways.In front of me, a bus slides to a stop. The doors open and people pour out, heads down. Some already wrestling umbrellas open, some using briefcases, others holding onto their ties or blow-dried hair as they speed walk past me toward the train station on the right. I avoid eye...
Submitted to Contest #336
Can I really do this?The gun feels heavy in my hand. I slide it into the leather holster at my hip. I feel sick, is this what everyone else feels?Mamma said that death was painless. It’s just like going to sleep but you wake up in heaven. When I said I would miss my room and her too much she smiled softly and cradled my cheek. “Darling I would follow you” Thinking back, I realised I didn’t understand the gravity of those words. What they meant. Now I do. If I died, she would follow suit. I wonder what she’s thinking right now, looking down f...
“This isn’t what I signed up for”“That makes two of us, dipshit.” “Why do I always have to do the gritty work?”“What— you think my fat arms could fit through the pipes?” Jonathan says, flapping the front of his t-shirt.“You’re the one who wants this key so badly.”My arm is elbow-deep in the toilet drain—the bowl already removed, leaving a black hole in the floor where it used to be. Yeah, you heard me correctly. Elbow deep. And right now I want to smack my childhood friend right in the face with my shit-covered hand.“I hate you so much right...
Submitted to Contest #333
“It’s a delicacy” Newman said and he smiled showing his bright white teeth. I looked down, at the little pearls balanced on a water cracker, a layer of cream separated the two.“This?”“Yes” Newman moved his bony hand, the skin translucent. Thin fingers slightly purple. He looked ill, but I didn’t say anything. Didn’t want to offend him.I don’t remember how we met. Who said hi first. His blue eyes tracked my movements as i popped the cracker in my mouth.There was no taste. I frowned.“It doesn’t taste like anything Newman”He cocked his head sli...
Submitted to Contest #321
“A true con artist must believe in the con as much as the recipient; only then can they remind themselves it is in fact not real” - Memoire of Louise Mcrowe. “I am your son” Nervousness wracks my body, this is the big day. The day where i may have a family. The lady’s face pales at my words. Her reaction makes me cringe back. Maybe I should’ve sent a letter or friend request on Facebook to message her the news. She’s shorter than i expected, possibly 5 foot 6 with grey hair streaked with white. Coiled in a messy bun on top of her head. I s...
Submitted to Contest #313
“Are you there, God? It’s me”The empty desolate room holds not even a whisper of the vibrant family home it no doubt used to be. The fresh winter air bites at my exposed face as i carefully kneel down on the cement floor.“I pray often you know” Agony strikes across my face and i wince.“I didn’t know you had this in store for me” I close my eyes, but my eyelids which are half gone prevent me from doing so completely. My eyes now dry as the desert, leak near constant tears in the feeble attempt to help.“My eyes hurt” I say aloud. My voice wobb...
Submitted to Contest #312
“They say I need to write about my daily life, about my reasoning, my thoughts. How is it that a heart operation seems easier than filling in these pages. Objectivity is what I strive for yet has little place in journals” - Written by the head doctor in charge at NYC medical centre September 3rd, 2042 To Diary,“Today was slow. The time dripping along like thick caramel. The day started with the usual, waking up at an obscene hour where the sun hadn’t even woken up from its own slumber. The drive to work was frustrating, cars packed along th...
Submitted to Contest #286
CW: Contains themes of addiction and altered mental states.My world tries to shift, to change but I hold on tight, refusing to let go. Clenched fists and skin taut over knuckles and body curled. Curled like that of a caterpillar in a cocoon. The sky wrapped tightly over me, the ground a hard concrete slab with blades of grass sprouting between the cracks. My world. An unforeseen force tugs at the sky, an attempt to rip it open. I cry out, the sound, a warm gurgle bubbling up from my throat. I close my eyes, wrapping tighter. Sores ...
Submitted to Contest #267
Will they ever know?My cheek rests in a pothole, rain falls from the sky, pounding the dirt into thick mud. I’ll be an outline drawn with chalk soon. This is where they will point and say “the body was here” Open veins are seeing the setting sun, the clouds, the orange sky for the first time. My left hand is glued to the road in-front of my face. A pulp of flesh.I don’t know where my other hand is. Where my legs are. I can feel the gravel between my teeth, smell the thick wet concrete. I wonder how much time has passed. “What ...
Submitted to Contest #263
As I breath, I feel the dirt rattle in my lungs, and scratch my throat. I stand there, in the midst of such destruction. A lonely tear falls from my eyes, trailing down my cheek and reaching my dry lips. The salt, reminding me of the sea. Infront of me is the last straw. How can someone endure this? How could someone move past this? I fall to my knees, as my heart falters. I don't cry, only a single tear will represent my sadness, the heartbreak. I exhale, but no air comes out. No air is left in my lungs. As my knees dig into the earth and m...
Submitted to Contest #261
Limbs flailed as the little boy desperately tried to keep his head above the water. The sand bank had dropped unexpectedly and now his non-existent swimming skills were the only thing keeping him from drowning. The little boy cried out, panicked. Water splashing into his eyes, burning. His arms slapping the water. “Help me!” He said, gargling water in the process. His heart was beating so fast in his chest, as if the organ was trying to keep the boy afloat itself. As if the heart was saying “Look here! If i beat fast enough perhaps...
Submitted to Contest #260
The sun beats down on me as I speed walk down the street. My hips swaying from side to side as my arms swing furiously backwards and forwards. My body trying to propel itself whilst always maintaining a foot on the ground. In my mind I chant “speed, power, strength" Every morning, I speed walk for two kilometres. “Speed, power, strength” That’s how I start my morning. A good note. A good way. I speed walk all the way to the newspaper agency where there I’ll pick up the piles of newspapers waiting at both the front an...
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