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Weekly Contest #69
[11/24/2020][jayterror4] has come online.[4:42pm] [jayterror4]: yo what are u bringing for thanxgiving?[4:45pm] [mskaleyb]: I’m gonna make that corn salsa mom loves. Plus it’s vegetarian. You?[5:07pm] [jayterror4]: fried chicken hahaha im not letting some bithc tell me what too eat on thanksgiving[5:13pm] [mskaleyb]: Mom’s gf? Come on don’t call her that. I don’t really want her there either but we should try and make this work. That’s what dad would want.[5:15pm] [jayterror4]: dad doesnt give a fuck hes off with his new girl in cali[5:15pm]...
Weekly Contest #68
The way Maman squirmed in her chair, fiddled with her hands in her lap, suggested a deep discomfort I’d only known her to experience once before, when she received news of my brother’s defection in 1813. Never had she mentioned him since. The reason for tonight’s uneasiness came in the form of a confession, and it was I who delivered the intolerable news. It was a marked departure from my usual role as the reticent and obliging daughter, characteristics belied only in the secrecy of my bedchamber where I ...
Weekly Contest #49
Jack fingered the worn corners of his magazine, some outdated home-and-garden edition that would have embarrassed the most adorable of 80s’ kitsch. He had made the mistake of choosing a seat directly facing the only clock in the room. It grinned at him like a Cheshire cat on Schadenfreude, only too pleased with itself in reminding him of the minutes of life that were wasting away. A waiting room without windows should be illegal, he thought behind grit teeth. The name was certainly being put to the test; he’d waited nearly an hour and a half...
Weekly Contest #36
July 1, 1883 Had tea with the ladies at Mrs. Mercer’s this afternoon. It’s hard to dislike her dusty crumpets when they’re accompanied by such tokens as this lovely leather-bound diary. She gifted it me for Canada Day; scarlet and gold, it’s simply regal! I’d say it amounts to my finest possession. I bet she knows that, too, the cow. How she does go on about her trips to New York City and summers in Saratoga, knowing full well the rest of our histories—histories erased with migration, histories left behind, histories we must pretend never ex...
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