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Weekly Contest #357
The Accident Arguably and obviously, it was no real way to live... An Italian author, Cesar Pavese, once said: "We do not remember days, we remember moments." The protagonist of this story had always took that to mean the following: As long as one has many, many happy moments throughout the course of one's existence then the actual amount of days lived is irrelevant. Unfortunately, she has to confess that she has neither lived a long life nor a prosperous or contented one. In fact, more and more, it is getting harder and harder for her to...
Weekly Contest #356
Qurbani Safiyyah was in her mid twenties when the life-altering, tragic, unforeseen event took place. It wasn’t so much the actual event that was so impactful, it was what happened afterwards that hit a nerve and struck a chord, to put it mildly. The sacrifice, she and her partner had planned, was a disaster, to say the least. And Safiyyah had no way of knowing that she would end up sacrificing who she was, what she stood for, what she believed, and what she deemed moral and immoral based on her- internal angel on one shoulder, devil on the...
Weekly Contest #355
There is a Place We All Go After Death Rashad checks, then double checks, his weapons. He is feeling nervous about the upcoming battle tomorrow. “It’d be one thing if it were a crew formed of 4 of me. Then I’d be confident about winning. I just don’t think that Petra, Arjuna, or Malik are up to par. Petra is so young and inexperienced, she’s green and wet behind the ears. Malik smokes so much I doubt he will be too effective in blitz strikes. He has absolutely no lung capacity. Yeah, his breathing is shot. And Arjuna- well, Arjuna is crazy, ...
Stalwart Love In a little town where there was often little news, the death of the wealthy, clandestine-philanthropist, Adelina, spread like wildfire. It became the talk of the town, some sick form of entertainment. Some were sad. Some were surprised, shocked even. Others were apathetic. The majority were happy, and, a very few, were sympathetic. Marcelo was devastated and appalled. He hated, he couldn’t stand, the way the townsfolk were treating the death of his faithful and trusted friend like gossip. In the quaint downtown businesses, at...
Weekly Contest #354
Salaam It is 5:30 in the morning, Ziv has been tossing and turning since he retired to bed last evening. Sweaty, mouth dry, and with a pounding headache, he decides to give up on sleep entirely. With one more restless twist beneath the sheets, Ziv finally sits up and opens his eyes. He is alarmed to see that his window is glowing. An electric blue, reminiscent of the blue light emitted from a television screen, is shining brightly on the other side of his window. “What?” Ziv asks audibly, to nobody. With mind groggy and heart racing, he cau...
Weekly Contest #353
THE ACCIDENT Arguably, and obviously, it was no real way to live.... An Italian author, Cesar Pavese, once said: "We do not remember days, we remember moments." The protagonist of this story had always took that to mean the following: As long as one has many, many happy moments throughout the course of one's existence then the actual amount of days lived is irrelevant. Unfortunately, she has to confess that she has neither lived a long life nor a prosperous or contented one. In fact, more and more, it is getting harder and harder for her ...
Bloody Hands It has been said, “the earth remembers what we forget.” This sentence is racing on repeat through our protagonists head as he cleans his dirt-covered, bloody hands beneath a faucet. “Damnit, damnit, damnit!” cries Yuval. He has just murdered his best friend, Naim, and buried his body down by the river. Yuval turns off the faucet, dries his hands, and tries to recall the past’s most recent events. It had been early in the morning, around 7:00 antemeridian, when he and Naim met. At first everything was friendly, cordial, lighthea...
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