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Weekly Contest #328
The Inevitability of Fateby Scott Speck1.In the candlelight of the tent, my tarot reader glowed upon her throne. Beneath her tattered red turban, one eye bored into mine, while the other appeared lifeless, hazed over long ago with a cataract. She seemed a strange kind of paradox - her manner imperious, her wrinkled appearance almost hag-like.I was here on the insistence of my friend Linda, who had visited Madame Toussant the previous weekend at the Renaissance Faire. She claimed Madame was the real deal, that she would provide valuable insig...
Weekly Contest #327
Cat in a Treeby Scott Speck1.It was Halloween night, and so windy that he couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t the wind’s roar through the trees that kept rousing him, but instead, his love of the windy weather, itself – a fascination that had brought him, a year ago, to rent this apartment – the attic floor of a quite large, old house, divided long ago into three main floors of apartments. With only thin layers of insulation, wood, and asphalt shingles above him, he enjoyed living that much closer to the sky.By one o’clock, he was finally drifting off...
Weekly Contest #326
Guilty Conscience, by Scott SpeckIt’s 3 AM. The street below is quiet, deserted, but I still can’t sleep.Folks need months to adjust to the noise of the city, my landlord said when I signed the lease. Tonight, though – this late – it’s quieter than the country in winter. Across the street, rank upon rank of brownstones extend into the distance, silhouetted chimneys smoldering. One coal-black column obscures the spiked crown of the Empire State, while Chrysler’s summit is unobscured. I don’t deserve my own place – so luxurious, and all paid f...
1.Somewhere, invisible to her in the fog, an ocean still roared with last night’s storm. The air about her was impenetrable – cold, clammy, and so thick she couldn’t see the ground. Her morning walk had become a labor, for she had to test each step before taking it – across hillocks and divots, past unseen foxholes, through tangles of beach grass.Then, at last, her feet sank into sand – blessed sand. She smelled the pungent decay of seaweed, and her next step burst the watery sack of a bladder wrack. There, too, was the scent of salt, the sa...
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