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Weekly Contest #351
Grief didn’t arrive after my mother died. He’d been there before that. No black cloak, no hollow eyes. Just a person, thin, quiet, wearing the same clothes as yesterday. He didn’t introduce himself. He didn’t have to. I knew who he was the way you know when a storm is coming before the clouds gather. He sat watchful in hospital waiting rooms, standing in corners during quiet conversations no one wanted to finish. But after she died, he stopped pretending to be a stranger. He moved in. Not metaphorically. Not poetically. He took up space the ...
Weekly Contest #319
The waning sun peeks through the window blinds, dabbling the floor with yellow stripes. The heat of the day begins to retreat and the coming night cools the air. It is almost time. He yawns and stretches out flat, wiggling his toes and fingers, straining his neck and rolling his shoulders. It is finally fall where the days are shorter and his sleep is less. He loves this time. His duty is longer but the dark envelopes him like an old, comfortable sweater. In the distance he can hear the clanking of the dinner dishes being cleared. The televi...
Weekly Contest #314
CW: Mentions of gun violence. It was the hottest day of the year and here I was in a gawd-awful chicken suit, twirling a sign and dancing, trying not to get heat stroke. The suit already had an odor of sweat, grease and possibly, at some point, a poor slob’s vomit and urine. Not the best smell even on a cool day but on a day like today it was almost unbearable.I had been doing this gig for a week now for the “Grand Opening” of the new chicken wing fast food place near downtown. The pay sucked but I needed rent money. My studio apartment was ...
Weekly Contest #313
“Person, place, or thing?”“Really, Max? You always lose this game.” She laughed. “I predict that the next call is all 3. A Person at a place tied to a thing!” The radio squawks, “10-10 at 49 Chambers Street. Missing model.”Mina grins and reaches for the mic. “Three Forty Seven responding”“Damn,” Max replies, “Fucking Fashion Week.” Putting out the siren and whipping the car around.Pulling up to Hall des Lumieres, he double parks, they exit, all business now.A slender man out front is wringing his hands, talking to a strikingly beautiful blon...
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