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Submitted to Contest #337
Dear Nancy, I was pleased to receive your letter, and happy to hear that one of your favorite animals is the dolphin. I did not know that there are forty-nine species of dolphin– like you, I was born inland, and I have also only seen bottlenose dolphins thus far. I do not know how many species of ape there are for comparison. So far, I have seen humans, and once a lemur. To answer your first question, my favorite food is shrimp. I have never tried a cheese curd before, but based on the way you describe it, I do not think that I would like ...
Submitted to Contest #330
He wore tights that were either naturally brown or were covered in grime. The tunic and apron he wore over it were equally dusty, and Izzy was sure that if he wasn’t a ghost, he’d be stinking up the art room something horrid. Nevertheless, he beamed down at her as if he hadn’t sprung from her horrible soapstone cat, scaring her so bad that she’d fallen out of her chair. The soapstone cat itself had stretched and then curled up to sleep. Honestly, right now it was the least of her concerns. She would almost think that she was having some sort...
Submitted to Contest #328
My cousin takes my plate from me without me asking– I almost feel insulted. I’m seventeen, well old enough to take care of my own dishes. I don’t even know why she’s here to babysit– I can be home alone just fine. The twins aren’t even here. “When’s Mother getting home?” I ask her. Joyce frowns, just for a second, but when she looks back up at me, she’s smiling. “When do you think she’s getting home?” Today is Tuesday– she goes to her supper club, I think. Or is that Wednesdays? “She gets home around eight on days when she has her supper cl...
Submitted to Contest #322
Wilbur smoothed down the hair he had left as best he could. He stooped, hurting his back, and checked his teeth in the reflection in her doorknob. Maybe it hadn’t been the brightest decision to subsist on coffee for the last fifty years. No matter. He was here now. The machine worked. He was here, and Terry was somewhere behind that door. Wilbur steeled his nerves. Somehow, this was more terrifying than stealing all that palladium had been. It made sense, he supposed– after all, this would be their first date in half a century. Well, his an...
Submitted to Contest #302
<<F#-F# D F#>> “I don’t understand.” Kenneth spun from the keyboard to his notebook as the little robot looked at him as expectantly as an expressionless robot could. “One more time?” <<F#-F# D F#>> His left hand feathered through the unsorted glossary he’d been haphazardly adding to while his right hesitantly played the four notes on the piano. It didn’t match anything he’d written down so far. Kenneth sighed and wrote down “Who went with him? F#-F# D F#.” Maybe eventually he’d find out what it meant. Kenneth peered...
“Did you just come here to mock me?” “I came here to see you. There’s nothing wrong with that.” “Don’t lie to me.” “I never lie.” “You do nothing but lie.” “Whatever else you are, my dear, you are my sister.” “Half sister.” “Is it so wrong I’d want to see you? We group up together. I taught you to read.” “And then you allied yourself with our enemies and left me here to die.” “Don’t play the victim, Arsinoe, your acting is pathetic and whining doesn’t suit you. Whether you ever acted like it or not, you are of royal blood.” “Nice of yo...
Submitted to Contest #161
Carmen stared down at the faintly glowing body in disbelief, her ragged breath the only thing preventing her from appearing as a statue, completely still. “Ta da!” The Mystic beside her brandished a shaky, liverspotted hand at the young girl on the floor. “One lover, locked and loaded!” “Are… are you…” “Always this amazing? Yes, yes, I–” “Freaking kidding me?” Carmen finally snapped, turning to stare at the Mystic with bulging brown eyes. “This is not in any way what I asked for– what I paid for!” “Oh, no, no, no,” the Mystic chid...
Submitted to Contest #112
Later, when she’s older and her bones pop when she bends down, she’ll remember this. It makes sense. It smells the same-- Nebraska isn’t so different from Missouri in the rain, and it’s the same muddy scent, even though she’s on the driveway and not in the grass right now. The smell remains the same, and it’s the smell that’ll make her remember, when she’s older, this day in the rain. She’ll remember how the rain beats down, plastering her hair to her forehead. It will be longer by then, but for now it's short and stuck against her sk...
Submitted to Contest #111
She looks young. Twenty-three, maybe? I’m biased, of course-- she reminds me of my youngest sister a bit. It’s the hair, I think, or maybe the clothes-- nice enough, but a little poorly fitting, like she’d gone out with her mother before starting the job and bought anything that seemed business casual enough to wear in a government building. “Marianne, right?” She shrugs, as if she isn’t sure. She’s still shaking. “You can call me Annie, I guess. Everyone does.” “Alright, then, Annie, why don’t you have a seat.” I tried to pic...
Blech. The coffee’d grown cold and whoever’d made it that morning had somehow managed to screw up the most basic of processes, leaving a muddy floor of silty coffee grounds in the paper cup. Louise grimaced. Seriously, it wasn’t like it was hard to make a pot of coffee decently. There were exactly two ingredients. She almost spilled said bad cup o f coffee as she sat down, but it’s not l8ike it could’ve made the computer any slower. Louise spun in her chair. Thank God she got paid by the hour. The computer itself wheezed at her, as if...
Submitted to Contest #89
The last second of Cassie Maclay’s life was cold, but filled with wonder. The sky was gorgeous, painted in the hues of the residual sunset that hadn’t heard the news that the sun had already imploded, or vanished, or whatever had happened, and she held her baby brother’s forearm with a sort of anxious delight. It was inevitable, as inevitable as the movements of the stars. What was there to be done? She barely understood how the sun works, much less how she could get it to pop back into existence. Astronomy was beautiful, sure, but utterly i...
Submitted to Contest #62
Charis leaned over Cleopatra to grab her cup. “So, are you worried about going home?” Cleopatra sipped her wine, and grimaced. The farther they got from Italy, the more bitter and watered down the wine became. “Worried?” “Anxious. You haven’t been home since your dad got exiled. Are you worried that things have changed?” “Of course they’ve changed. I wouldn’t be going home if they hadn’t.” “Don’t play dumb with me.” Cleopatra sighed. “Fine, fine. I’m not worried, per se. I anticipate that it will be… eventful.” “Are you excited, then?...
Submitted to Contest #57
Cleopatra tapped her earpiece awkwardly and fidgeted with the microphone in her collar. “And you’re sure that this will translate the… English, you said?” She looked at the markings in the pod nervously. None of the six languages she spoke came in handy here.Maline looked down at her tablet. “It should. English is a bit… strange, so I can’t be quite sure, but you’re understanding me just fine with your translator on and I’m speaking modern Greek now, so it should work for English. I wish I had more time to test it out, but I was just so exci...
Submitted to Contest #56
“Ma’am? It’s almost time to meet the ambassador.” Delaney Cohen cracked her neck and buttoned the last button on her top. She puffed out her cheeks and examined her lipstick for any smudges—it’d been a while since she spoke French. Maybe the ambassador would speak English and she wouldn’t have to fake her way through a terrible accent. She grabbed her lucky pebble and slipped it into her skirt pocket. “Ma’am? Ms. Cohen?” “Sorry, Olive.” Delaney smoothed down the fly-aways in her hair and brushed the “I still believe” bumper sticker she’d...
Submitted to Contest #52
The snow sticks to my pyjama pants—I knew I should’ve put on jeans, but my bones just ache so much. I fumble with the car keys, which feel unduly clumsy between my fingers. I should’ve just stuck out the fever at home. The parking lot is bare, with only my car and a small pickup truck, but there are lights on in the grocery store so I suppose they’re still open. The employees must park in the back, I guess. The wind blows faster, cutting through my ratty sweatshirt. If I’d known there was going to be a blizzard I wouldn’t have risked dri...
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