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Weekly Contest #227
The pub door swung open and violated the quiet darkness of the downtown street. Light spilled from the open door, and with it the loud, buzzing, hive sounds of dozens of laughing, drunken voices. Like debris tossed onto the shore by a breaking wave, a man shuffled out into the night, smiling and waving back over his shoulder into the pub. The door closed, and the silent darkness swallowed him. His smile faded quickly, wilting against the chill wind. He pulled his long overcoat tighter against the wind, put his hands deep in its pockets, and ...
Weekly Contest #208
Booths full of memories. It was something Andrew thought about every time he and Taylor went strolling through the flea markets. There were rows and rows of booths, each containing well-loved items imparted with hints of the past. Booth 141 contained a set of old formal dishes that he thought must have belonged to someone’s grandmother. An aged tobacco pipe, smelling faintly of that cherry scented smoke, sat on a shelf in Booth 145. Andrew wondered whether that smell of warm cherries still lingered in the memories of...
Weekly Contest #207
Jeremy woke on a bright Saturday morning during the summer between their first and second evictions. By more conventional accounting, it was the summer between his junior and senior years of high school. For his classmates, this was that illusive, magical summer between adolescence and adulthood, that rare patch of temporal ground in which the freedoms of childhood overlap with the privileges of maturity. It was a summer of exploration and discovery. Jeremy, however,...
Weekly Contest #205
(Trigger Warning: Allusions/references to sexual assault) “Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It’s been two weeks since my last confession.” The familiar lines flowed through the rattan divider to the old priest. Not looking up from the paperback novel he kept in his lap, he raised his hand and performed a perfunctory Sign of the Cross. “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Sp...
Weekly Contest #198
TW: The following is a dark satire on the difficulties facing our teachers and as such, includes depictions of misogyny, homophobia, transphobia, and allusions to school violence. “OK class, let’s make sure our names are on our beautiful creations and put away our markers!” Dolores Acosta smiled as she collected her first grader’s colorful self-portraits and drawings of cats, dogs, flowers and rainbows. “Excellent daisies, Sarah! Is this your new puppy, David? He’s so...
Weekly Contest #187
A cold moon shone over the streets of St. Louis. The light reflected in the dark glass of the quiet office buildings. It shone on the surface of the Mississippi River, travelling quietly down its course on the winter night. And it glistened in the pool of blood spreading under the dying man lying on a quiet street. His trembling hand tried in vain to quench the flow seeping from the gunshot wound in his stomach, but he was growing too weak to apply the necessary force. Usually he...
Weekly Contest #180
TW: contains strong language, depictions of misogyny and transphobia. Elliot Brown took a long drag on her Marlboro Gold, exhaled, and watched the heavy blue smoke dance its way to the ceiling, catching the purple, gold, and green lights of the slot machines as it rose. One more odor in the pungent bouquet of the River Princess Casino. Elly liked that about these cheap casinos. It was one of the few places you could still smoke inside. No huddling apologetically by the door, giving...
Weekly Contest #179
TW: Violence, themes of mental health, suicide. I…I think I’m confused. But no. They had my Annabel, and I had to get her back. The forces of the Dark Lord had driven us from our estate, necessitating our stay at the Northwoods Inn. I was in the midst of plotting our counter-attack when they struck at my very heart: my dearest Annabel. As we sat to our evening meal, Annabel began to eat as I waited and railed against the Dark L...
Shortlisted for Contest #178 ⭐️
The horror of the thing overwhelmed me. It was a monstrosity; an unholy union if ever there was one. What kind of psychopath was responsible for this abomination? I looked across the table at my friends, and I could see my feelings echoed in their faces. Neal looked down at his plate with the furrowed brow of man looking at a mortally wounded ally on the battlefield. Jordan, on the other hand, wore a look of pure disgust; eyes open, mouth agape, and lips curled. &nbs...
Weekly Contest #132
In the glow of the lamplight, I looked at the face my dying wife, and was afraid. No, I thought, she’s not dying. She’s healed. We’ve asked God to heal her, and all we have to do now is believe that God’s done it. She’s not dying. She’s healed. She IS healed! Even as I forced these affirmations to play on repeat in my mind, the doubt continued to creep in. She certainly didn’t look healed. The cancer had eaten her away. Unconscious on our bed, Sarah...
Weekly Contest #91
“Closed: NO TRESPASSING!“ I stood facing the faded red letters on the front door of the corpse of the Sparta Library, and considered what to do next. On the off chance there happened to be someone, anyone, still working in the building, I gave a few hard knocks. No response. No surprise. I knew it was a long shot from the condition of the building. The blue roof was starting to chip and peel, the pathway was strewn with litter, and the grass was threatening to overtake the small brass butterfly statues in the front lawn...
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