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Weekly Contest #5
Clang. “Lights out!” I roll over on my thin bunk to stare at the wall. I hate staring at the bars before I drift off. It always gives me nightmares when I do. Nightmares of (stabbing) (blood, so much blood) my life before this place. The things I done. So I stare at the wall and try to let my mind go blank. That’s a lot of my life—blank. Blank walls, blank faces, blank future. I close my eyes (Please no, please, please don’t) and try to concentrate on the blackness behind my eyes before sleep envelops me. As usual, I fail and a face swim...
Weekly Contest #4
She is going to be so surprised. The ring in my pants pocket makes an uncomfortable bulge. I turn onto her street, and turn off my headlights as I drive past her house. I park the car down the street, out of sight. I really don’t want her to see it and be spoiled. I check my mirrors and look out the windows all around the car to make sure no one can see me. I don’t want one of her nosy neighbors to spot me and call her before I surprise her. I pick up the bouquet of roses I’ve brought and I walk back the few blocks to her house carefully avo...
Shortlisted for Weekly Contest #4 ⭐️
Harold really didn’t want to go. He heard a giggle and turned to his left to find his granddaughter, Julia, engrossed in a typed conversation on her cell phone, grinning like a madman. Madwoman. Madperson. He had to be careful about that; Julia was constantly correcting him, telling him to be more careful with the things he said. He was trying, but it was hard. People never used to be so sensitive about these things. He had never even considered that his style of speaking might offend other people. That was before Julia, of course. S...
Weekly Contest #3
“Can I have a drink?” “Please.” “Pleeeeeease?” Sigh. I trudge over to the fridge to pour him his orange juice. But not too much. Just a splash, or else he’ll be up in the middle of the night to pee. Or even worse – he won’t wake up at all and tomorrow morning will be a fresh hell of wet sheets. Not like it would be the first time. And I shiver just thinking of what his mother would say. She’d definitely never let me hear the end of it. I give him his orange juice and he takes it without looking at me. “Thank you,” I prompt. “What?” ...
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