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Weekly Contest #374
I awake to a crepuscular ray of sunlight stabbing my eyes, stirring me from the deep slumber possible only in the gloom of winter. Frost clings to the windowpanes like frozen spider webs and my breath puffs from my mouth like a steam train. The thermostat is set as low as possible without freezing the pipes – money is tight. I skip a full shower and wash my armpits and sensitive regions using a washcloth and the bathroom sink. I dress as warmly as possible and have a quick breakfast of toast and bagged cereal before heading out the door. The...
Weekly Contest #340
My person is here. Sometimes, when the light outside is like this, he is gone, and I am here alone. The times he is here are the best times. He is moving around and doing things to his body. He walks past me to the front of the house. I get up and walk to him quickly. He’s sitting down putting those things on his feet. I whine and spin in a circle. He makes some sounds, and I hear “go”. I bark loudly, and he holds the rope close to me. I hear the familiar sound that means we are going outside. We took a walk to a building where he told me to...
Weekly Contest #339
I’m hurtling through the atmosphere in a capsule barely larger than a washing machine. My gut feels like it’s been blasted with a cannonball, and no one’s cared to remove it. My ears are useless. Not for lack of sound, more like all sounds have been forced into my ear canal and held there by some invisible power. It’s enough to make a guy puke – if he wasn’t trained for this sort of thing. There’s not much to do but hang on and wait it out; the trajectory is set and controlled by the computer. So, I press my hands against the capsule walls, ...
Weekly Contest #335
A small brown box sits on my front porch, conspicuous in its conservative covering; a speck of dismal dust before a polished pearl. No name or address adorns its face, forcing me to question its intended recipient. Curiosity compels me to scoop it up and carry it inside, balancing books and the bags hanging from my fishhook fingers, cutting into the seams of my bloodless joints. Everything is eventually put in its proper place inside, with the parcel placed on the silvery-gray surface of my teakwood table. I locate scissors in a disheveled d...
Weekly Contest #334
Once upon a time, in a world within a world, off the concrete path, through the weeds, and under a fallen oak tree, Harry the Snake sold bespoke jackets to his fellow herps. Harry’s Haberdashery for Herpetofauna. As we all know, snakes do not have arms, so how do they don the jackets? How do they stay on? They're made to fit snuggly on the long, slender bodies. To put them on, the snakes wriggle, writhe, and slither into them. Alas, the jackets began to itch, and it wasn't easy to shed their skin as they grew. Growing also meant the jackets ...
Weekly Contest #332
CW: Mental health, psychological abuse Just before the sun stretched out its first tendrils of light, seeking cracks in the darkened sky in which to anchor and pull itself over the eastern horizon, the Harrowell family gathered in the parlor of their old but tenderly cared-for farmhouse. It was time for daily scripture and family prayer, preparation for the day of labor before them. Father sat in his old, padded reading chair—the redbone hound, Boaz, lying quietly at his side—with Mother to his right in her rocker. Across from the parents, ...
Weekly Contest #331
He stood in the darkened living room staring out the large picture window, feeling like a specimen in a primate house. Outside, heavy snowflakes fell circumspectly, like thousands of tiny paratroopers with billowy white parachutes, awaiting a compromise between friction and gravity. Suddenly, the room flooded with lethargic light, and he found himself staring at his dim reflection. His wife yawned groggily behind him. “What are you doing up?” “Got hungry and wanted a snack. Thought I caught something out the corner of my eye outside.” “What ...
Weekly Contest #330
Squinting against the blustering winter wind full of prickly ice specks, one eye closed completely, I barely saw the car pull up next to me. Startled, I flinched and snapped my head in its direction. A dark green two-door, its engine low and rumbling, was pacing me. The driver held up a hand, signaling me to stop, I guessed. I stopped and turned toward the car; the driver now leaned over, rolling down the passenger-side window. “Hey, get in — it’s freezing out there." He unlatched the door and pushed it open. “Uh, it’s ok. I’m nearly home.” ...
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