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Weekly Contest #51
Noah swatted at a passing firefly and tried to think of a way to excuse himself politely. "Uh, Ms. Johnson, are you sure-?" "Shh!" His elderly neighbor was leaning out of the tree line, gazing upward at the stars. One wrinkly hand gripped the tree bark - a tether to the apparent safety of the forest. Noah dropped his voice to a whisper this time. "It's really late, Ms. Johnson. Shouldn't you-?" "Shush, boy!" she whispered quickly. "This is when they come out." Noah bit down a sigh. He gazed longingly past the edge of the forest, wher...
Weekly Contest #50
When Flight JX 2593 reported engine failure, Anne Haddox, in her home on Sycamore Street, had her hand around a little clay pot. She liked to hold this pot and gaze at the plant within whenever she felt troubled. But right now, the plant itself was the trouble. While she was used to seeing a bright, vibrant green, the contents of the pot were different now. There was a brown, shriveled succulent inside it that had no spikes but cut her just the same. She glared down at it for several long moments, and then cursed loudly. Her husband spille...
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