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Weekly Contest #80
Our truck bumped through the potholes in the badly-paved road, and so did my head upon the roof of the car. I pressed harder on my Nei Guan point, three fingers below my wrist, and swallowed back my bile. Rolling outside my window were huge cows milling by flimsy tin shacks, roosters and chickens pecking aimlessly under their swollen bellies. Huge trees shadowed our car with their dappled leaves and ruby fruit, so the inside of our car was stained red. Men lugging water buffalos waved at us as we passed, as well as women carrying reed basket...
Weekly Contest #79
Out on the verandah, Nirmala sits with her hands folded into her lap, eyes weary with lost sleep. The bottom of her sari trails into the murky brown puddles that are abundant at this time of year. Even though it is the rainy season, the hot Kolkata sun beats down on her face, a price she knows she will pay for later. She can already feel the freckles popping out from underneath her skin, the scratchy voice of her sister-in-law berating her for sitting out in the sun, that voice that always manages to force its way into the pores of her skin....
Weekly Contest #78
Butterflies. Large, colourful wings painted like murals beating nonstop against the glass terrarium walls. Flap-flap-flap go their wings, never ceasing, be it the darkness of midnight or the weak sunlight of dawn. Just the sound of their wings are bringing me back to my dark place, where it smells of nothing but mud and emptiness.“They’ll grow on you,” Brandy says, dropping a tiny collection of flowers into their home, along with a bottle cap filled with sugar water. She claps her hands delightedly like a child, while I am staring flabbergas...
Weekly Contest #62
Brandon and I are sitting at the Orange Thread café. He’s ordered a caramel macchiato, I a strawberry cheesecake milkshake. It sounded disgusting as I told the cashier I wanted that, but it was too late to retract my order. “Are you nervous?” Brandon says. He’s kicking the leg of my chair, a habit that I used to find endearing but I now just find plain annoying. “Cos you don’t look very scared.” “I’m trying hard not to,” I say. “How long is it until we have to get to the school?” “Forty-five minutes. Don’t worry, I visited a few days ago ...
Weekly Contest #61
Past chemistry papers are spread all around me: on the couch, on my lap, on the floor, and on the coffee table. Toast crumbs are mixed in with eraser dust, and its a disgusting sight. Disgusting enough for my mother to tut when she walks in the living room for her five o’clock soap opera. “How long have you been studying for?” “I’ve been up since nine.” “Ah. That hard, huh?” “Yes, Mum, really.” Easy for her to say so nonchalantly! She went straight to beauty school after her GCSEs, and met my dad not long after she got her licens...
Weekly Contest #37
On and on it went. The thud of rain droplets colliding against the window pane, the endless torrent of the dull groans and murmurs of the swaying trees as they fought against the merciless wind outside. On such a night, Sol was glad that she was ensconced safely in her home. To make things better, the heat of the electric blanket draped over her knees made her first-edition copy of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn much more enticing and wonderful. “How is it?” Her foster mother Maggie asked, setting a tray of freshly baked scones on...
Weekly Contest #18
Laurel Crouch was never one to feel glad being dragged around. Especially by her best friend. Unfortunately, Romilda Finch was a rather merry, curious girl who lost interest in things at the tip of a hat. Laurel was in an especially grouchy mood one particular Sunday; her mother had unleashed hell upon her, after discovering her secret stash of ramen packets in the back of her closet."Just because you're going on a stupid diet does not mean that I get to suffer as well!" Laurel had roared. "What about my rights as a human livi...
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