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Weekly Contest #355
Sir Marcus Duncombe was one of Declan's more frustrating customers. He would sit in the dark green barber's chair constantly on his phone, refusing to engage in conversation. Such was his distraction that Marcus wouldn't follow instructions when he needed a better angle to trim. Declan's chair in the Houses of Parliament had seen many famous faces - and backsides - over his fifteen years running the shop. Secretaries of State, Ministers, even a serving Prime Minister, would all pop in to what they saw as a safe space away from the hustle and...
Weekly Contest #345
If sibling rivalries were a video game, Louis was up against his final boss. One last push. He faced the last, immovable object. Louis was convinced that his brother, Charles, had picked a destination wedding because he knew it would mess with him. Making Louis his best man added to the dilemma. He had run every calculation. Plotted every scenario. Created multiple spreadsheets, each more damning than the last. And added up the costs. He wouldn’t get there. So he selected the number from his phone contacts. Pressed the telephone icon. The d...
Weekly Contest #343
Britain’s Prime Minister James Marshall had exactly one hundred and ninety five seconds of political life left. What he didn’t appreciate was that he would use up exactly seventy five of those seconds arguing with a stubborn Windsor knot in his dark blue, silk tie. Having shared the stage with numerous American Presidents during his time in Office, he had never understood the fascination with the way that their knots folded in the middle underneath the bow. He had tried to look up the name of it once, but had never succeeded in finding it. B...
Weekly Contest #341
Some of your most vivid memories are those that seem to happen in slow motion, aren’t they? I’m seventeen years old, and I’m working at my first job in the grocery store, stacking shelves. It’s coming towards the end of the week and that’s the time we need to switch over our special promotions, which are displayed on the ends of each aisle. So every Friday, it’s my job to work “the ends”. I exit the warehouse with a large storage trolley, made of cold, battered metal. I’d wager it’s not just older than me, but it’s as old as my parents. It r...
Weekly Contest #340
The tension rose in the room at the prospect of the imminent reveal, the atmosphere thick with suspicion and fear. Candles flickered, almost mocking the six assembled guests. They knew what was coming; someone’s fate is about to change forever. The rain outside suddenly fell hard, clattering against the windows of the old Manor like machine gun fire, startling some of those seated around the old, wooden dining table. Wind rattled the bushes, and the trees shook violently from one side to the other. Five of the guests were sat in a horseshoe ...
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