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A Mile at a Time The car hummed softly as it merged onto the highway, a low, steady sound that felt almost like breathing. Eli kept one hand loose on the steering wheel and the other resting near the open window, letting the cool air slip past his knuckles. He hadn’t planned this drive. There was no packed bag, no destination typed into a map. He’d simply got in, turned the key, and started moving because staying still had begun to feel unbearable.The town thinned quickly behind him. Storefronts gave way to warehouses, warehouses to open fie...
Weekly Contest #340
I wake before the sun, my nose twitching with the promise of a new day. The world is quiet, except for the distant hum of a car and the soft breathing of my human, Sam, curled up in the bed above me. I stretch, paws reaching forward, tail wagging in anticipation. The air smells of last night’s rain, damp earth, and the faint aroma of bacon, remnants of yesterday’s breakfast. My stomach rumbles, but I know better than barking. Patience is a virtue, or so Sam says.I listen for the sounds that mean morning, the creak of the floorboards, the shu...
Weekly Contest #338
The clock struck seven as the last rays of sunlight filtered through the dusty windows of the old bookstore. Shelves towered overhead, casting long shadows across the worn wooden floor. The air was thick with the scent of paper and ink, and the quiet hum of anticipation.It was the kind of evening when stories seemed to come alive, their characters tiptoeing between the aisles, whispering secrets to anyone who cared to listen. The store was nearly empty, expect for a handful of regulars and one newcomer, a young boy named Eli, whose curiosity...
Weekly Contest #336
San Francisco, September 1945The city was alive with celebration, but for Helen Rossi, the world felt suspended between joy and sorrow. The war was finally over, Germany had surrendered in May, and Japan in August after the bombs fell on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The streets of San Francisco were filled with parades, music, and the laughter of returning soldiers. Yet, Helen’s heart ached with uncertainty.Her husband, Frank, had been gone for three years, fighting in the Pacific. Each day, Helen waited for a letter, a sign, anything to tell her...
Weekly Contest #335
Rain tapped gently on the windows of the small downtown coffee shop, turning the city outside into a blur of shimmering lights and muted colors. Inside, the air was warm and fragrant, full of the comforting scent of roasted beans and the soft hum of quiet conversation. At a corner table, Emma stirred her cappuccino absentmindedly, her thoughts drifting as she traced the rim of her cup, lost in the pages of a well-worn novel. The bell above the door jingled, and a man in a navy coat stepped inside, shaking off his umbrella. His eyes scanned t...
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