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Weekly Contest #362
There was one last ingredient we needed for my funeral on Friday. Young men with halos for hair carried it down the Middwuth Creek in the faded oranges, yellows, and blues of their skirts. Bishop Weir tried to climb the hill past them, but we had to cling to branches of the brambles to pull ourselves along. My shoulders brushed theirs, and one young man’s straw halo licked past the bare skin there. I turned and watched him go, his gold collar hanging so low you could see the nape of his neck and his spine. I watched until he disappeared. Th...
Weekly Contest #361
*note: contains cussing and mature themes* I was never all that athletically inclined, making my few but striking successes in volleyball an understudied exhibition. But, during the summer the pool around the corner of my house put up a volleyball net in the park, and I managed to wander over there on Thursdays, where it wasn’t so empty only the introverts came, but wasn’t so crowded I’d never get picked for a game. A good strategy has always been my card for compensation. He had black hair, not usually my type, but he was doing pushups whil...
Weekly Contest #63
By the time I stepped outside, the leaves were on fire. I could have missed it. I could have kept my tongue in the back of my throat when a knock came at my door the night before, then an older cousin who came carrying dishes of chicken and rice up to my bedroom, wouldn't have shifted my drapes open. They took a peep out my curtains, and I'd regretted even calling out that they could come in so much, I had hoped staying quiet throughout their visit would give a hint. But they're open, and this morning, they bother me. I think about get...
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