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Weekly Contest #312
My heart feels like a small earthquake in my chest as I think of what to type. What if my message sends her into one of her downward spirals? I wouldn’t want her to crash out. Besides, her number might not even be the same anymore. Perhaps it’s too late. It’s been two years, after all. I should’ve just answered her calls, opened her texts, clarified what I meant when I said she became too emotional for me. Anxiety shoots through me in electric waves, penetrating deep into my core. At least this is better than the relentless heartache I’ve me...
Weekly Contest #278
Hey.I’ve rewritten this email thousands of times and each time, it sounds…wrong. I’m worried you won’t read past the first line, let alone open it. I don’t blame you if you don’t…it’s been five years now. I tried calling, but I assume you’ve changed your number. You don’t have social media anymore, unless you changed your name? Either way, I thought I’d just try this once. You didn’t deserve the way I treated you in the end, and not a second’s gone by that I haven’t thought of you. You were my everything. I was an idiot. I’m sorry I blo...
Weekly Contest #276
“What should I write about? You know all my deepest, darkest secrets.” I sent the text to Alisha along with a screenshot of writing prompts. Prompt four, to be exact.Her response came instantly. “What about Valentine’s day three years ago? That random you hooked up with?”Oof. Did I want to relive the worst sexual experience of my life?“Or that one coworker of yours that was cute and flirty. The skater boy.”Oh, Mike. A scrawny guy two years younger than me whose immaturity somehow made him the most likable person I worked with until I quit.I ...
Weekly Contest #268
Dear Future Self, You’re welcome. I can’t believe I finally did it. Honestly, some days I wonder how I’m still doing it. But things have gotten easier, more peaceful, more serene. I never thought I’d say those words, and even writing them now, I don’t entirely believe this is my new reality. Yet here I am, lying on my baby-blue beach towel on my stomach, warm beach sand surrounding me, a bright yellow sun baking my shoulders and back golden-brown. It smells like saltwater and sunscreen with a side of Tequila (margaritas on the be...
Weekly Contest #248
*** story contains themes of sexual assault, mental health, suicide, and self-harm***“Come with me,” he said, holding a hand out, palm up, “and you’ll never have to live through this again.” His vocal cords made music with the words he spoke.I’d been warned of him before: the man with a steady voice and alluring tone. The man who shielded his features beneath a black hood to contain all the madness that swirled around in his head. The man who lived by night and fled by day. Not quite a wolf in sheep’s clothing, but a Devil on the shoulder po...
Weekly Contest #238
“Hi, Dalia, it’s Craig again. How’s the leaking faucet? I called HOA three times yesterday and they refuse--” Delete. “Hey Dalia. Not sure if you noticed, but some beige Mercedes has been taking everybody’s parking spots and the HOA continues to sit on their asses sipping their White Claws watching reels of that new country pop singer--what’s her name?--dating that one football player--what’s his name? instead of--” Delete. “Morning, Dalia. Did you see that letter in the mail yesterday? Someone’s been leaving a sock in the lobby ...
Weekly Contest #237
I inhale deeply, trying to match my breaths to his own. His are steady, calm, consistent, while I hold my breath enough for my chest to hurt. Let it go…let it go…but I can’t. If I do, I’ll lose everything. Every good, whole, beautiful thing inside me will float away with all the shards of my broken soul. I close my eyes, but a tear rolls down my cheek and onto his chest, soaking his black shirt. One tear leads to two, and they must weigh the equivalent of anchors because they wake him. When he reaches up and puts a warm hand on my arm, my l...
To: Keenan Meyer < intimatecreationz@gmail.com > From: Katrina Lopez < katlopez321@gmail.com > Hello! I hope this email finds you well. I’ve purchased items from you before, many of which I see are no longer on your site. It’s been several years since then, so I figured some things wouldn’t be available anymore, but I had high hopes. One in particular was your crystal people globe; I can’t remember the exact name, but it was about the size of a small cantaloupe and looked like a snowglobe, only without the water. The t...
Weekly Contest #234
Jeffrey Lockwood. Jeff. My man. Best man who was my Best Man for mine and Rita’s wedding. Mr. Lockwood: wealthy-ass motherfucker who drove a run-down SUV. DJ Lock: best underground DJ in lame ass Utah who simultaneously coded in the basement of his standard two-bedroom townhome. The man who made me famous. The man who got my name--first AND last--out across the whole state (maybe the whole US). Gotta love him.I’m sorry, Jeff. You deserved better.The day I met Jeff, I was ditching PE Sophomore year of high school to get high in the handicappe...
Weekly Contest #233
“UGH.” I groan through my teeth and continue typing on my phone. My heels clack against the pavement from footsteps so heavy, my bangs start bouncing to the sound. “Running late--” delete. Okay, let’s try again: “Needed to grab pads--” delete. “Leah called--” delete.I stop and exhale heavily. Two young women ahead of me are too busy giggling out all the alcohol they consumed tonight to notice me staring with tears in my eyes. If anything, I need a shot of whatever they had.“Well, the show must go on,” I mutter, diggi...
December 1st, 2024 11:11am Challenge: suffer for thirty-one more days. (why couldn’t this month only have thirty?) Challenge: stay alive thirty-one days. Challenge: live for thirty-one days. (Dante, if you decided to be a piece of shit and read this, do me a favor and let everyone at my funeral know I did attempt to change my mindset. Depression’s not a fucking mindset.) 6pm Check-in: Mom called today; asked if I wanted to help decorate the tree. Tell me why she had to mention Moscato? Dad, being Dad, brought out the Tequila, and...
Weekly Contest #232
“Come on you piece of shit.” I cup my hands around the golf ball-sized flame as it flickers like a flashlight on the final juices of its battery. The tip of my nose loses sensation, and I envision all the blood in my face rushing to create harsh, crimson circles on my cheeks. If Vivi were here, she’d remind me of the time she put makeup on my face when I got blackout drunk on our first wedding anniversary. God, what I’ld give to see her dimpled smile right now… Pop! The flame crackles in response, threatening to succumb to the icy winds a...
Weekly Contest #231
Day fourteen of sobriety. Cheers to the two week mark. The bartender with a shiny head and gray beard pours tequila in two small shot glasses rimmed with thick layers of crystalized salt. He aggressively jams a lime slice on the lip of each before pushing them over the gray marble counter to Elijah and his girlfriend, Lupita. “Sure you’re not gonna take one?” Lupita asks, instantly grabbing her shot and bringing it to her tomato-red lips. “I think you need it more than anyone.” “Ay, chill Mami.” Elijah’s muddy brown eyes follow t...
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