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Weekly Contest #350
Ring!It was 4:14am. The time when the alarm goes off and Caspar Motley-Finch wakes up.Not 4:00, which might suggest military discipline. Not 4:30, which might suggest approximation. 4:14, which suggested nothing to anyone, which was the point.Caspar rose from bed the way a praying mantis unfolds from a leaf, limb by limb. He was tall, narrow-shouldered, and had a face that seemed to be permanently arriving at a conclusion. He did not make coffee. He made broth. Lukewarm chicken broth from a thermos, which he drank standing at the kitchen win...
Weekly Contest #349
Today is April 31. I don't remember falling asleep. Not where I am, not the dust or the silence or the seven strangers sitting in a loose circle around a dead fire. The first thing is that I don't remember closing my eyes. You'd think you'd remember that. The man across from me has blood on his sleeve but no wound. The woman to my left grips a water bottle with both hands like it's the last warm thing in the world. A kid, fifteen, maybe sixteen, draws something in the dirt with his finger, erases it, draws it again. I sit up. The sky is the ...
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