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Weekly Contest #372
The morning light shined through the old single-pane window of my apartment onto the bare wall opposite my bed. It wasn’t always bare. There had been a picture of my family hanging smack in the middle of it until yesterday. I knocked it off the wall moving some shelves into the living room. A clean white rectangle was all that remained. I was about to ignore it and make my way to the kitchen for some coffee when something caught my eye. It was a small crack in the wall. Maybe a quarter inch long, about the width of a match, directly in the c...
Weekly Contest #352
Mara was accepting the most prestigious award of her career for the worst thing she had ever done. The World Press Photo of the Year, given annually, since 1955, to works of journalistic importance. Bold. Necessary. Fearless. The buzzwords that had been associated with the photo since it was first published months ago could be heard echoing in the auditorium. She tried to ignore them, knowing the pain they caused her when she thought about what they meant. The harsh spotlights made it difficult for her to adequately fake delight as she cross...
Weekly Contest #349
Leah was unable to tell if she was awake, or even alive. She couldn’t see. She couldn’t move. The only sound was a hissing white noise with muffled tones trying to break through. A tension pushed on her from all angles. It felt as if someone had wrapped her up in a blanket made of sheet metal. The first thing she felt was cold. She tried to speak. But between the steel pressing against her jaw, keeping it closed, and the weight of the thing pressing on her chest, allowing only enough movement for very small breaths, all that came out were fa...
Shortlisted for Weekly Contest #347 ⭐️
‘"I think I’ve always known, on some level, that something about us, about our relationship, was different than others. It seemed normal enough to me. I didn’t know any better. But there were always signs, now that I look.” I was staring at the ceiling of a newly renovated office building on 3rd Avenue, enjoying the cool air from the overhead fan, and the air conditioning unit that hummed in the window. The room was dimly lit, but not dingy. In fact, it stood as a welcome contrast to the hot, bright city outside. She looked up from her notep...
Weekly Contest #346
‘By the Winter of ‘96, I had developed a private hatred for the people in New York that looked poor on purpose. I could always spot them from our third story window. The man in ripped jeans and combat boots with the beautiful woman hanging off his arm, both of them huddled together on the street sharing a cigarette. Girls in torn crop tops, fishnets and daisy dukes outside the bar, as if the cold were a myth made up by mid-westerners. The man on the corner in fingerless gloves, just as likely to ask for change as he is to have excellent opin...
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