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Weekly Contest #365
Lena Bell disliked the phrase cleared of suspicion. She had not been cleared of Celia’s murder. A grand jury had declined to indict her. The police had stopped asking questions. The newspapers had moved on. Those were different things. Twenty-five years later, people still came into Lena’s bookshop and looked at her from the corners of their eyes. Most probably did not know why. They remembered a photograph or part of a headline. A missing woman. A secret affair. The lover police could not charge. Lena had built a good life since then. Her ...
Weekly Contest #362
He smelled the rum before he saw the cake.That was how trouble started. Not with a decision or a weak moment, just a smell getting into the room ahead of a person.Walter was sitting by the fish tank with a large-print book open in his lap. He had been on the same page for twenty minutes.Tuesday at Briar Glen meant chair yoga at ten, tomato soup at noon, and bingo at two-thirty unless somebody had died. Nobody had died that morning, as far as Walter knew, so bingo was still on.Then the doors opened.Butter. Sugar. Walnuts.And rum.Walter looked...
Weekly Contest #360
I always believed that time was something a man possessed until he had wasted it. This was wrong, though I came to know it too late, and by then the knowledge had not enlightened me so much as reduced the portion of me still capable of understanding it. Time is not spent; it passes through us, taking what it requires, and leaves behind some arrangement of memory by which a life may be mistaken for a continuous thing. Mine is no longer continuous. The first sign was small enough to be forgiven, which is how such things begin. A man...
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