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Weekly Contest #343
Trigger warning: this story contains themes of mental health and physical violence. There are six of them on the floor before I kneel. The alarm is still screaming — not the flat wail of a fire drill but the sharp, pulsing shriek of a personal alarm held too long. It vibrates in my teeth. Someone hasn’t reconnected their pin. The sound drills through the room, through bone, through thought. “FUCK YOU!” He is face down on the linoleum, five nurses holding him in a practised constellation. One on each limb. One at the head. “GET OFF ME! LET ...
Weekly Contest #342
In the end, it was the way he brushed her hair. Her hair was so very thin and fragile like her frame and mind. Bald patches were spreading and visible. But he brushed her hair with such gentleness, such kindness and respect, that one would almost think he was playing with spun gold. His hand would gracefully run slim fingers through the hair and delicately caress her cheek as he did so. Tenderness lived in every brush stroke and every touch. He was mindful of her earrings, earrings he had bought her long ago. Somehow, though she wasn’t reall...
Weekly Contest #341
This story contains sensitive content of mental health and substance abuse and death. He was mad. And I mean that in a clinical sense—schizophrenia. For me it was like watching a person who was not just broken, but entirely fractured and splintered inside. Madness crept in gradually and terrifyingly—removing the man I called “dad” and replacing him with someone else entirely. He loved to read, and he loved to walk. He loved to discuss metaphysics and the mysterious, myths and legends, and to visit museums. He had the most wonderful storyte...
Weekly Contest #339
The low hum of the kettle plays its morning song. It gently breaks the peace of night as everything begins to rouse from its peaceful slumber. I always want to hold onto the night, its cosy warmth, its silence, its beauty; disturbing it feels like a crime. So I break it slowly. First the kettle plays its mild introduction, followed by the teaspoons and their twinkling percussion. The broken tranquility of the evening and night is paid for in coffee. For some, coffee is the highlight of their morning, given over from warm hands and with a...
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