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Weekly Contest #369
I glance over to the houses neighboring mine, the ones owned by Mrs. Landing and the Cunninghams. The mornings have been so lonely without the sight of Mrs. Landing tending to her flowers. Don’t even get me started on the evenings, too; no longer hearing the Cunningham children playing in their backyard is a tragedy. Both houses were sold to then be demolished. Same with the houses down the lane. Same with the houses the next street over. All for something unwanted. I’d call it unnecessary, but those men in suits would greatly argue ot...
Weekly Contest #291
A sharp chill cut through the trees, then passed through openings in the pasture’s fence before bathing a colony of pumpkins with winter’s harsh reminder. Many of the orange gourds huddled together, clinging together for warmth. They chanted for the Spirit of Autumn to stave off the frigid specter’s approach for a few more weeks, but they’d also been preemptively wishing for that since the end of Summer. For others, with how much colder the evergreens had said this Autumn would become, they hoped just to survive the night. Curbita, a n...
Weekly Contest #285
My brand name is Bonneville. I am a typewriter. Memories of my time at the factory are fuzzy since I was taken straight from the assembly line and placed in a box, ready to be shipped to market. I didn't have to sleep for very long because I was purchased by a bright young man. My life was simple, at least by machine standards. I was the centerpiece of my operator's home office. From repetitive to-do lists and arduous expense reports to meandering romance novels that had started, changed, restarted, been discarded, and then started again, wh...
Weekly Contest #282
"Run: Routine_Cleaning_15b.exe," a droll but sweet voice said. "Mode: Mobile." A large rectangular cube in the corner of the supply closet opened, unfolded, and expanded to form an automaton. Cobalt, named after her paint job and the many alloys comprising her structure, saluted reflexively. Despite the lack of superior officers around her, it was a good habit to keep, especially in this type of facility. She ran a swath of diagnostics on herself. Everything seemed in order. Cobalt's long and lanky corrugated tube arms were functional ...
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