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The AtticThaddeus Lenk You and I spent all night in the attic working on the rope machine. I didn’t notice the hours pass me by; I didn’t notice how late it had gotten as we worked, sweating, in that airless, wooden attic. I guided you, like I always did. You tried to hide the anxiety in your eyes, or the way your hands shook at first as I showed you around the boxlike machinery and the twisting, corrugated metal arms that hooked and interwove within each other at frightening speeds as they jammed back and forth in violent succession to bin...
Weekly Contest #286
CW: Discusses the struggle for self-acceptance in a strict religious environment.“I spoke to Albie today.”Four pairs of eyes looked up at me in surprise at the dinner table.“I thought you and Albie were forbade to speak to each other anymore,” Mother Grace-Mary said to me.“He came over asking for flour and I answered the door,” I said, feeling half-lipped and wooden.“That was all you said?” Father Grace-Peter asked with his deep, accusing baritone.“That was all Father. I swear.”Mandy and Spade remained silent at the table, staring at me. Man...
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