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Weekly Contest #107
We sit here together around this table that your father built before you were born, and we eat the rich olive bread from the wooden plate at the center of the table; thirteen hands sharing bread, and I wonder at the intimacy of it, especially now when we all feel as distant as strangers. I keep trying to catch your eye, but you keep your head down and eat very little, and if there were not so many others around us I would maybe reach out to take your hand, or to ask you what is wrong that I cannot soothe. The wine is spicy and auburn, ...
Weekly Contest #70
3 A.M, Thursday, September 17thAdam:hey are you awake? i really need to talk to you.3:03 A.Mmaybe i shouldn’t have said ‘need’. i really, really want to talk to you.3:08but it’s basically like needing to3:20eva please talk to me. i know that you probably hate me, and to be honest you probably should, but please just listen3:30 so i’m just going to say this, ok? and you don’t have to respond or anything, i just need you to read this and know that i am so so sorry. and i know that just saying sorry is never enough, and y’know what, maybe ...
Weekly Contest #64
Do you remember, my love, the first time we saw each other? On the court of Edward VI, with a thousand candles mounted on the walls, casting flickering shadows across our jewels and finery and powdered hair, until we all looked like ghosts? Do you remember how the music floated over our heads like an angel’s serenade, how you took my hand and swept me out onto the floor before I had the chance to say yes? You spun me about until I was dizzy, and then you pressed your hand against my back to keep me steady, while my heart raced against y...
Weekly Contest #49
The secretary had learned to make herself invisible. Not literally of course, if anyone cared to look they would see her, but no one ever bothered too. She sat quietly behind her desk, handed out paperwork, and gave out ‘hellos’ and ‘goodbyes’ and ‘sign here’s’ like the peppermints she kept in a mug on her desk. She didn’t realize that she was invisible until she had been working for two years, and realized that people didn’t meet her eyes when she talked to them. Instead they seemed to look right through her, like she was insubst...
Weekly Contest #47
“Do you believe in love?” he asks you. You’re sitting in the doorway of the old French theater, watching the rain pour down beyond the crumbling awning and tired posts. You’re sitting in his lap with your cheek pressed against his chest, and the roughness of his wool jacket rubs against your face. “What kind of love?” you say, even though you know what he is talking about. “Eros,” he says, “Flowers and hearts and marriage and sex and saying ‘I love you’ with your eyes.” You don’t say anything for a minute, watching the way the rain...
Weekly Contest #45
The storyteller finally put down his pen, and closed the book, for he had at long last finished. And he sat back in his old armchair by the roaring fire with his wine and books and women, with the small leatherbound book sitting quietly on the bedside table. The storyteller closed his eyes and rested, satisfied, and when he slept he had no dreams, for all was done.*********************************************************************Summer watched the fires out of her window, wondering how long it would take for her to get used to the acrid s...
Weekly Contest #43
Dear tiny life inside me, Hello. You are the size of a poppy seed, but you have suddenly become such a huge part of my world. It’s strange to think that yesterday you did exist to me, and yet today, thanks to two pink lines, you have become my everything. It scares me to no end to think that I am now responsible for a life, tiny though you may be. I hope that you like it in my womb, that you are comfortable, that you do not want to leave. I suppose that I should admit to you now that you were not exactly planned. I feel guilty ad...
Weekly Contest #39
She was watching the stars again. She believed that they held secrets in them, perhaps even words spelled out across the dusky canvas of the sky, waiting for someone with the patience to read them. When the world didn’t make any sense, and she felt like no one understood her, she would go onto the roof at night and watch the stars. Sometimes she would almost believe that she could see the messages, but she could never fully understand them, which she blamed on the wine she would always be drinking during those stargazing sessions. On that ni...
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