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Weekly Contest #372
The door is locked. I’m certain. I know this because I locked it. I remember putting the key in, turning it, hearing the deadbolt catch, and pulling the handle afterward. As I reach for the handle again my thumb catches on the hangnail I’ve been picking at since yesterday. I pull once more, then immediately start wondering whether the first pull counted. This is an important distinction—not a reasonable one, but important if you happen to be me. I am standing in front of the door with my car behind me in the driveway. My coffee is in the cup...
Weekly Contest #370
Gus knew Roby was late before the light reached the kitchen. Roby was the pack leader, which meant that he controlled the doors, the food bin, the car, and the place where the leash hung. Gus had accepted the arrangement years ago, but there were mornings when leadership required assistance, and today was one of them. The room was still dark except for the green numbers beside the bed. 6:12. Gus did not know what they meant. He knew a truck had already passed outside, pipes had made noises inside the walls, and a bird had landed on the raili...
Weekly Contest #368
I'm a frigging unicorn, so what? It's not like I shit gold coins from my ass. Yeah, I've got a horn. My mane sparkles in sunlight, and sometimes flowers grow where I sleep. None of that means I want to carry your kid around a birthday party or grant wishes for free. I don't prance either. I walk, and when I'm annoyed, I stomp. My name's Steve. My mother named me Starfire Celestia of the Enchanted Vale, which is exactly why I stopped speaking to her. Anyway, I was down by the creek last Tuesday eating blackberries and trying not to get stabbe...
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 s...
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...
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 expect...
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