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Weekly Contest #361
I like to think I’m a perfectly ordinary boy. Ordinary boys, however, don’t speak with sprites. Or trade stories with a pooka. Or enchant people with music. Or persuade others with a few well-placed words. No, I’m not an ordinary boy. Fae-touched—that's what the villagers call me. They think the fae took an interest in me sometime after I was born, the way they sometimes take an interest in lost children, crossroads, or lonely houses at the edge of the woods. They're wrong. I’ve known the truth since I was old enough to ask why I could see ...
Weekly Contest #359
CW: Grief, death of a boyfriend (off page but mentioned), bereavement, psychological/emotional distress, brief references to a fatal train accident/human remains, brief funeral/burial talk, use of strong language. Seventy-four days after Felix’s death, I find one of his freckles on my bathroom mirror. Not really. It’s just a fleck of brown paint. And seeing it makes me want to break apart all over again. But I can’t. Because the threshold for grieving has passed. People say there’s no limit. Take your time. Sit with your grief. Go slow. ...
Weekly Contest #358
CW: Physical violence, death, past abuse by authority, panic responses, psychological distress, familial conflict.Nobody believed in me. That was their first mistake.Now, look at them. Running for their lives.They can’t ignore me anymore.I can’t help the grin that pulls at my lips as golf-sized hail rains down, smashing into the street, denting cars, and cutting screams off short. The satisfaction is intoxicating. The rage of my storm is freeing. The power is addictive. Sitting up here, on Town Hall, I feel like a king—no—a god.With a flick ...
Weekly Contest #357
CW: Strong language, an on-page panic attack, racial microaggressions, themes of class disparity, and financial hardships. “You’re twenty minutes late,” Noah says as I walk in, those forest green eyes of his piercing. Noah Price is a teacher’s pet. He’s got the good grades, the perfect personality, the perfectly styled hair, and the perfectly palatable face. He had sun-touched white skin—the type of tan that was acceptable in a place like this. The type of tan that had the boys taking notes and the girls swooning. While my brown skin was vi...
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