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Weekly Contest #302
I’ve always known deep down that Ma was right. And I’ve only just understood what she meant all along. You see, once, the days slipped through my fingers thick and fast. The mornings were dark, the coffee darker. I used to wash the bitterness away with sterile scents from the operating theatre. The surgical mask was reassuring; not just comfortable but warm, as if it were made for me. And I would never glance backwards to see who was slotting the tools so neatly into my grasp. I went home whenever I could, though Ma never asked about my sur...
Weekly Contest #170
“When at last we meet, we shall talk so soft, the way young lovers do…”“I daresay,” Natalia teased, “you are making eyes at the bard.”“Lia!” Grace whispered furiously. She dropped her gaze and smoothed the fabric of her dress. “Must the entire court hear your babbling?”Lia’s smirk grew wider. “Gray, the entire court can see you staring at each other. He looks more often at you than at his lute.”“Nonsense,” she replied, though a smile tugged at her lips. As if against her will, her eyes wandered back to the slim figure lounging in the midday ...
Weekly Contest #157
Content Warning: loss of pregnancy.She holds my gaze a heartbeat too long, and though we both recall the past, it’s the future we see clearest. I shouldn’t, but I’m powerless as my legs carry me across the atrium towards her. I can’t stop myself from admiring those lips, reposed against her wineglass. I can’t stop my eyes from tracing down her slender fingers, pale skin, gleaming fabric, and the shape of her body underneath. It doesn’t matter what I tell her, or what she says back. This love affair has only one ending.When I’m driving home, ...
Weekly Contest #152
[Content Warning: Claustrophobia]East Side, London, 1889.Charlie sobs into the dark. He doesn’t want to be one of the abandoned boys. When Patch got stuck, Master Smith left him in there for a week until the landlord complained. They had to break the wall with a hammer to get him out. Charlie hadn’t seen it, but the other apprentices said they found him curled up like he was asleep, but all stiff-like. Patch didn’t sweep any more after that.Charlie’s knees are level with his chin, his head presses against sweltering bricks, and the brus...
Weekly Contest #148
Content Warning: language, sexual references, nudity (not descriptive).Vrrrttttt. Vrrrttttt. Vrrr-“Fuck off,” Mandy mumbled, backhanding her phone screen.-ttt. Vrrrttttt. Vrrrttttt. Vr-“It ain’t gonna snooze, Mands. It’s a phone call,” Brad groaned from the other side of the bed.-rrttttt. Vrrrttttt. Vrrr-“Good morning, Mandy speaking. Oh, hi Kate, how are you? Yes, of course. Oh- oh, you’re outside? No, sorry, I didn’t hear. Yes, er, yes, the viewing is still today. Would you mind- er, would you mind giving me a few moments to make some fina...
Shortlisted for Contest #147 ⭐️
She holds her brother's sweaty hand tight as the credits fade. For a single breath, they sit in the void. Then the world is alight and reality resumes.Blinking, she stretches and looks around blearily. Faded grey seats of cheap foam; a metal bin overflowing with paper boxes and plastic cups; an overturned carton of popcorn, its contents strewn across the threadbare carpet; a neon green exit sign occasionally flickering. A sharp whiff of orange fizz from her brother’s half-finished soda. Undertones of stale popcorn, and the faint stink of unw...
Weekly Contest #142
Grandad died before I understood how I felt about him.A week after he passed, my mother - no doubt grappling with her own demons of regret - left to me the task of sorting through his belongings. I sat in the cramped living room of a stranger and looked around helplessly. Grandad was more of an idea than a person. Others spoke of him as a decorated military man, later in life a successful investment banker par excellence. A widower, a single father and later a Grandad. Whether any of it was true mattered little. I never got to know...
Weekly Contest #141
This was the beginning of a successful BreadTube career.To get the most views, my first video had to excite the audience. I dug out the old binder where Grandma wrote our family recipes in her meticulously neat handwriting. It opened straight to the scrambled eggs recipe. For a moment I was a bespectacled child again, smearing it with ranch and grinding copious amounts of salt and cayenne pepper on top. Yes, that was good. The scrambled eggs would do nicely.All the top submissions on BreadTube - the best video cooking site on the web - `had ...
Weekly Contest #132
“Are you there, God? It’s me again,” I whisper, hands clasped. “I’m begging you this time. I really don’t want to go to Christchurch today. Please, can you find a way for me to stay? Or, you know, maybe Adie could move there too? Please. If you’re real, this is your last chance to prove it.”She nudges me in the ribs. “Sam, it’s a bit late for that.”We’re lying on soft grass by the riverbank, listening to the water rushing past like the summer that left us behind. Above us, branches and trembling leaves make fractals in the sky.I look over at...
Weekly Contest #128
Lady Astor: “Winston, if I were your wife I’d put poison in your coffee.”Winston Churchill: “Nancy, if I were your husband I’d drink it.”Alison watched the powder dissolve into David’s tea with grim satisfaction. David liked his tea milky. He would never tell the difference.“How’s the tea?” he called from the other room.“On the way,” she shouted back. It was taking too long. She thrust a teaspoon into the mound of toxic grains and swirled it out of existence. Stirling silver clinked against bone china. She carefully put the spoon aside ...
Weekly Contest #127
I’m alive as a gentle breeze that pulls strands of hair across her face and ruffles the flowers in her hands. I coax out the sun from behind a cloud and touch her softly on the shoulder. I want to tell her that everything will be okay, but I can’t - not anymore. So I settle for caressing her cheek with the wind. I know my wife well enough to understand what it means when her lips press together and the creases form on her forehead. She’s ruminating again. She’s thinking back to the day when I doubled over in pain and staggered to the ba...
Winner of Weekly Contest #125 🏆
The esteemed Dr Maharaj was the only cardiologist at St Agatha’s Hospital. Although I met him many years after he first arrived from Kashmir, the nurses told me everyone had taken to him right away. How could they not? There was a sincerity in the way he spoke; a strength in the hand he put on your shoulder. And when a patient’s heart was beyond repair - because there was no way he could save them all - he held their hand and promised to help them through until the very end. Dr Maharaj was the doctor that patients would kneel next to their c...
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