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Weekly Contest #328
Jools Du Martin was not trying to kill The General, but we didn’t know that until 1975; by the time it made it to my employers that he wasn’t, he was already dead. I remember it well, that awful September in 1974, when it felt like the sun didn’t once rise, and we lived, eternally, in the confines of darkness from the overcast skies. One day, the rain set in and it didn’t leave until October. I was still working for the newspaper back then, writing copy about whatever my bosses told me to write about, sometimes being allowed out to write abo...
Weekly Contest #299
I was sixteen years old when the whole mess with The Vatican Archives and the summoning of The Great One went down, and even when I said I was sorry there was little in the way of forgiveness from the parties affected. Sure, the humans had some reason to be upset, but I think they went just a little overboard. Besides, The Great One only took over a small fishing village in Boston and made the locals into fish-mutants, hardly worth getting riled up over seeing as he didn’t even kill any of them. In some cases, the people of Port Merton were ...
Weekly Contest #296
Nationwide, the news media had run with the story of Martha Atkinson’s crime. It was a story they could print forever, taking new angles and new attacks up to, and even after, the day she was sentenced to life in prison. “Did you, or did you not,” the District Attorney had said “own several firearms, many of which were posted about publicly on social media?” The DA at that time was a lanky worm of a man called Jake J Douglas, and when the Martha Atkinson case came across his desk he was over the moon to be put at the head of the team that wo...
Weekly Contest #295
Sighing and looking out into his front yard, Mr Theodore Maxwell of 288 Baker Lane placed the barrel of his revolver up into his mouth and pulled the trigger one last time; with that, his massacre was ended. It had been a relatively normal morning for the Maxwells, not unlike any other day they had lived since moving to The Neighbourhood, but it had ended in bloodshed when Theodore went to his safe and proceeded to slaughter every member of his family, and take his own life, all before the meatloaf finished cooking.Theodore’s body fell just ...
Weekly Contest #292
Sandra, who was sat in the passenger seat for the journey, had said something half a mile ago and received no response. As they passed the sign that read ‘BLUE VALLEY NATIONAL PARK 5 MILES’, she tried again. She started with two sharp, blunt coughs and looked over to the driver, her husband, Dan.“You listening to me?” She scoffed.Dan reacted as though he had not realised she was in the car, jumping slightly and taking his eyes off the road to look at her with an almost suspicious glance. She was smaller, younger, and cuter than him; and that...
Weekly Contest #291
THE PRISONER“I have a mouth ulcer.” Stanley suddenly whined.The sound of him tonguing his ulcer had been a constant for the past hour, every so often he would hit a really raw patch and hiss a little through clenched teeth. We all thought he would stop after his little confirmation, but he continued for another ten minutes before speaking again.“It’s real bad.” He sighed. “It’s right at the bottom, in the little fold. It hurts to talk.” He continued.I looked up at him, wanting to make some comment telling him to shut up, but I couldn’t muste...
Amy’s mother had always told her to look out for black ice on the road when she drove, it was a killer, and she should always be careful to watch the road and catch it when it appeared. This need to constantly eyeball the surface before her gripped to her mind and never let go, deep into adulthood she would drive confidently all year and then, as soon as the cold set in, she refused to get behind the wheel of her car for any reason.Her boyfriend, Mikey, didn’t mind having to drive her everywhere in these times, but he for sure knew that one ...
Weekly Contest #289
The cigarette was clenched confidently between two shaking fingers, and placed then between the black painted lips of the smoker who drew a lungful, blew, and watched as the expelled smoke tumbled away into the air above her head. The smoker was Abigail, and Abigail had quit smoking three months before, only to start again sometime after her Dad died. Today was Dad’s funeral; she had already smoked her way through a pack, and was now three deep into pack two. She hadn’t slept much the night before, mainly as all the family being in Dad’s hou...
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