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Weekly Contest #34
“I’m bored,” said Nicki, which was always a bad sign. I looked up from the book I’d buried my head in hours ago. My feet were tucked beneath me in Father’s easy chair, which I’d claimed while he worked in his office. Mother hadn’t made us get dressed, so I was still in my polka-dot pajamas and a pair of fuzzy socks, though it was three in the afternoon; Nicki wore a clashing ensemble of striped pajama pants, a flowery t-shirt, and an oversized flannel. Her white-blonde hair was pulled back into four or five messy pigtails, and she was s...
Weekly Contest #33
It’s the same debate every morning. Like a court case happening in my head. When I wake up and there’s a weight on my chest, like I’m trapped under a fallen shelf and I can’t move, like every breath is an effort against it, it’s the same tired old argument again. You need to get up, says the lawyer for the plaintiff, and the defense lawyer begs, stay under the covers, just this once. I’m tired of it. In so infinitely many ways, I’m tired. I lie flat on my back and stare up at the ceiling, examining the hairline cracks just barely visib...
Winner of Weekly Contest #33 🏆
I’d know his face in a dream, I’d know it in a thunderstorm. It sets my stupid heart fluttering and my fingers trembling in the scissors, every single time. Even today, when it appears at the barbershop window like a mirage, drenched in the rain, his hair looking like it’s been caught in a lawnmower, my pulse feels like it’s going to burst joyfully from my neck. I don’t know his name. The way I know him is a long story. It starts with the girl I was a decade ago, in messy pigtails and overalls, the girl who ran wild throughout th...
Their eyes are all on me. It’s nothing new, feeling like twenty gazes are boring into me from all sides, but most of the time I can convince myself it’s in my head. Most of the time I can remember I’m dressed exactly the same as everyone else: dark blazer over white button-down, conservative pencil skirt over itchy panty hose, heels just low enough to make me shorter than the men and just high enough to make walking uncomfortable. Today I know I stand out. My big day, the day I’ve been building up to for weeks, and I know I look like a mess....
Weekly Contest #31
When my sister left, I thought my first text to her would be something sweet. Something like I miss you or the neighbors ask how you’re doing. Or at least something coherent like I hope classes are going well. I didn’t really think quick hwo do u get bloodstains out f laundry would be my dashed-off missive not twelve hours after we said goodbye. But that’s what I send, half-blinded by senseless tears I don’t want to shed, leaning over the side of my bed as my stomach churns. Wish someone else was here. I didn’t expect to be alone. I al...
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