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Weekly Contest #361
Charleston, 1995 Every June, when the air gets thick and the Alabama sun doesn’t set until nine o’clock, when the fireflies flicker against the pines bordering a freshly cut hay field, when the wind changes late in the afternoon and you can smell the rain before you can see it, I’m taken back, if only for a fleeting moment, to Charleston, 1995. It’s been thirty-one years since my grandmother dropped me off at my aunt’s house to spend one last summer with my cousin Jamie before he went off to college. Since the first t...
Weekly Contest #356
Doors Open On The Right At Belmont His eyes grew heavy and the words on the page began to run together. He looked over the top of his readers at the clock across the room. Eleven thirty-nine. “Didn’t realize it was that late,” he said as he picked up a yellow post-it note that he had folded into a bookmark and slid it between the pages. He picked up his phone off the small side table and pressed pause. The soft jazz faded and gave way to the hum of the traffic below. He scrolled through the notifications on his phone. No new text. He opene...
Weekly Contest #347
Streetlamps hummed to life around the perimeter of the parking lot. Stephen looked down at his feet as he walked across dusty asphalt. How long had he had these shoes? It didn’t matter. He reached into his front right pocket and fumbled around until he found his key fob. With a “beep”, the headlights of a black Nissan flashed in the spot in the back corner of the lot. Stephen sat down slowly in the driver’s seat, took the I.D. lanyard from around his neck and threw it in the cupholder. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “Inhale t...
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