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Weekly Contest #346
The VoiceThis is not who I am, things need to change.I was born in the wrong place, at the wrong time. I don’t know how it happened, but that single mistake sent my life in a completely different direction, one I never chose.When I first learned to speak, barely a year and a half old, I told my mother I needed to go back and fix everything. She was a gentle, calm woman, a chef at a small restaurant, and my words unsettled her. Sometimes she laughed them off, sometimes she shared them with others, unsure what to make of them. But one thing bo...
Weekly Contest #332
The rain poured mercilessly, a steady curtain of silver falling from a sky the color of bruised steel. It wasn’t a soft or gentle rain—it was the kind that soaked through clothes and skin and bone, the kind that made streetlights blur into glowing halos and turned the pavement into a trembling mirror. Anna stood motionless in front of the house where he lived. Her shoes were already filled with cold water, her hair clung to her cheeks, her fingers trembled from the chill, but she didn’t move. The light in his room was still on. Through the t...
Weekly Contest #331
It was a calm winter evening, the kind that wrapped the world in silence. Snow drifted steadily from the sky, settling in soft white layers over the street outside. Inside the house, the only sound came from the gentle hum of the heater and the occasional creak of settling wood. Jessica sat alone in her parents’ living room, her arms wrapped loosely around herself.Mr. and Mrs. Elliot’s four-bedroom house—where she and her sister Jane had grown up, where laughter, family gatherings, playdates, first loves, and first heartbreaks had once fille...
Weekly Contest #330
The TwoSarah was exhausted—deeply, bone-heavy exhausted—after another brutal day at the hospital. Being a nurse meant long hours, but recently the shifts had blended into each other until she couldn’t remember when she’d last slept properly. Today was worse than usual: a staff shortage had forced her to stay after a full night shift, adding hours she didn’t have the strength for. By the time she reached the door of her small one-bedroom apartment, she was moving on autopilot, guided only by muscle memory and the faint promise of rest.As she ...
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