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Weekly Contest #66
As Mary Trivett walked in the door carrying two heavy grocery bags, she found her husband slumped on the couch, watching TV. A greasy bowl of chips and a beer can were on the table in front of him—nothing out of the ordinary there. Peter Trivett was 39 years old, with pale skin and dull brown eyes. He was bald. He was short and had a growing beer gut, which wasn’t only the work of beer. He loved eating junk food and took his passion very seriously. “I’m gonna need you to go pick up the car on Saturday,” Mary said. “Why?” Peter asked in...
“And why didn’t you buy more beer?” Harmon asked for the third time, raising his eyebrows. His eyes had an unfocused look. He was drunk. “I told you. I’ve been too busy.” Michael and Amanda Rice, Harmon’s brother and sister-in-law, were watching the scene, embarrassed. “Busy doing what?” He said in his drunk voice, the words barely intelligible. “We have guests, and we don’t even have enough beer. It’s embarrassing, Emma,” he bayed, far too loudly for the deadly quietness of the room. “I feel embarrassed,” he insisted. An awkward pau...
Dear reader, I’m writing from the middle of nowhere. The middle of nowhere is a small island—160 paces long and 89 paces wide to be precise—that I like to call “Hell.” I have now been on this island for... two weeks? Three? The main reason I’m writing is to keep my head off the thought—I take that back, the certainty—that I’m going to die. I gathered the last bit of strength left in my body, and I picked up this diary. Maybe I should start with who I am. My name is Craig Adkins. I was born in New York City. My father was a lawyer, and ...
Weekly Contest #65
Everything that happened on that dreadful night was Joey’s fault. It had been the hottest spring in fifty years and the most boring school year of my life. It was now May and, as the summer was getting closer but the days weren’t getting any shorter, my friends and I started a dare contest: for every time we went to the principal’s office, we had a dare. Although it was fun initially, the dares had been getting more and more intense as we constantly tried to outdo each other. I couldn’t imagine what Zach’s dare would be! He had been caught...
Weekly Contest #64
It was a cold December night when it happened again. The air was glacial, and you could barely feel your fingers, even with fur-lined gloves on. That day, I had been fixing my sink for the third time this month, thinking about how long it had been since I had last taken a vacation. At five minutes past ten on that night, a forty-year-old clerk named Winton Carline, on his way to his lazy, good-for-nothing kids and his apathetic wife, began screaming. By the time the neighbors came out of their houses, Carline had disappeared and would neve...
Weekly Contest #63
Colin was staring at his drink, a weary look on his face. Here he was, sitting across from the girl of his dreams in a lovely coffee shop, and all he could think about was how much he hated fall. The Busy Bean was cozy and lively, which contrasted with the gloomy atmosphere outside. The wind was blowing, and the leaves were swirling in the wind. Dozens of shivering people had found refuge in the warmth of the coffee shop. On one side of the room, wooden tables and a long upholstered bench crammed with fall-colored cushions lined the wall. ...
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