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Weekly Contest #355
Caela Rhys entered the boardroom with her hands clenched into fists, the only betrayal of tension beneath a mask that remained unbroken. Emric Solen stood abruptly, every motion rehearsed and precise. He was a man who measured his posture as carefully as his words. Without meeting her eyes, he raised a hand to Joss. “Why is that animal here?” Emric’s words broke the contained silence of the room. Joss Farren leaned back in his chair, smiling as if he didn’t have a care in the world. His hands clasped behind his head as the room acted out its...
Weekly Contest #354
I haven’t spoken a word for three days. Not since I buried them. What would be the point? Alone in a room speaking to myself? Seems redundant. Then again, most things seem redundant now. I walk around this empty space like a ghost. I think that’s how you use the word. I never quite understood it. A string vibrates above me. They are back. I think they can still smell the blood. It doesn’t matter. They’ll leave when they realize there is no food left. Doesn’t stop them from coming to check. Predictable. Thirty seconds later, a second string v...
Weekly Contest #353
My hand feels stiff, as if bark has grown over my skin. I stare across the bar and wonder: Is ignorance really bliss? I don’t have an answer. Luckily, it’s not my job to think. I take another swig. The dull burn in my throat reminds me of home. My skin burns, but I ignore it. I’ve no desire to be sober right now. Across the bar, men and women dance. They sing songs and laugh. Some fighting. Some try to forget they exist. Each is an intricate story unfolding before me—maybe mundane, but these moments matter. Didn’t they? I know what it feels ...
Weekly Contest #351
I want to smash his desk. That smug look on his face—how does the light hit him just right? Makes him look so damn punchable. He smiles, completely oblivious to how close I am to screaming. “How does that make you feel?” “How’s a stupid picture of a barn supposed to tell you anything about me?” “Humor me.” I hate that phrase. No one's laughing. “I don’t know. It makes me feel itchy. This is stupid.” “Why don’t you tell me more about your week? Did anything new happen at home?” “I don’t understand why I’m here. You could just sign the stupid ...
Owen squinted, surveying the sea of people below. The crowd had come to mourn the dead. It might have been a joke if not for the art. To his right, a waiter glided by with a tray of champagne. Owen took two glasses and drained them in quick succession. The server stared as he set the empty glasses back on the tray. He felt the server’s eyes follow him as he descended the stairs, each step sending a lurch through his stomach. His grip on the railing was so tight his knuckles turned white. He loosened his tie and scanned the room one last time...
I’ve been in bed for two days. My body feels heavy—clunky, as if my limbs have been attached incorrectly. The room is nearly empty: just a bed, a table, a lone chair, my books, and my toys. I glance at the books and feel pressure in the back of my head. I want to read, but the doctors have told me I must stay in bed. My hands won’t stop shaking. It feels like my body wants to escape itself. The longer I sit, the worse it gets. My teeth clench; the pressure builds to a crescendo. Then a loud crack echoes in my ears—a tidal wave of heat. I scr...
Weekly Contest #349
I haven’t slept in months. Well, that’s not entirely true. I sleep on and off. Restless. Going through the motions rather than actually trying to relax. I wake at odd times. The curse of being a light sleeper. Everything is an alarm clock. The night carries with it the weight of our hubris. Sometimes it’s loud. Crying fills the air like a discordant lullaby. An occasional scream pierces the darkness. A broken reminder of what was lost. Sometimes it’s so empty I can’t breathe. I remember the first days. There was so much crying. So much screa...
Weekly Contest #348
Asher breathed out heavy and slow. Only two more hours. Two more soul-crushing hours… “Hello, thank you for calling Cadence. How may I assist you today?” An automated greeting left his lips like parts off an assembly line. “I don’t know if he can hear me…” The voice came out raspy and strained. Asher’s hand gripped his silver stress ball, fingertips digging in, leaving tiny craters. The liquid inside strained against the rubber threatening to explode. “Yes, I can hear you. How can I help you today?” Each word practiced and devoid of life. “I...
Weekly Contest #347
No matter how many times he reread the email, the words never changed. The same bold letters glared at him like a disappointed parent. Eleven simple words, each carrying the weight of the world. A deep sigh escaped him as he leaned back. There on the screen, the email remained open. “Meet in my office at five. Bring your laptop and belongings.” This was it. The end of the road. Arthur’s perfect little house of cards was finally collapsing right at his feet. Why the hell did I lie about being good with people?! Arthur’s hands flexed over and ...
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