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Weekly Contest #344
The Arch of States had been standing for four months before anyone thought to wonder whether it would stand for four more. It was not built to last. None of it was. The colonnades, the triumphal arches, the marble balustrades along the lagoon, all of it plastered over timber, painted the particular shade of white that suggests not purity but intention. Chicago, in the summer of its great Exposition, had erected a city that knew from the first nail what newspapers would not admit for another year: that the future, in this instance, had an end...
Weekly Contest #332
The rain came without warning and turned the world into a watercolor smear. Joseph stood in the front yard, barefoot on the grass, feeling the cold water soak his shirt and plaster hair to forehead. The streetlights, amber through the downpour, painted halos in the dark. He couldn't remember walking outside. One moment he'd been in the living room, Elizabeth's voice echoing in his ears, and next he was here, trembling.Run from lust. Pastor Greene's words, spoken twenty years ago to a room full of teenage boys. Run like Joseph fled Potiphar's...
Weekly Contest #293
Warmth, slow and thick as molasses, spread through Helen’s body where moments before the cold lain coiled, slick, and bitter as a snake’s back. The scent of high green pine and cinnamon, deep and old as the hush of a warm kitchen, pulled her through the weight of sleep, and when she opened her eyes, it was with the dull stiffness of limbs left long in a dream. She swallowed, licking the dry roof of her mouth, and moved her fingers as if she could wake them. A train car. The words came to her slowly, uncertain, for she did not remember steppi...
Weekly Contest #291
Morning hush drapes the park in light. Two sakura trees, side by side—Double Sakura—blush at dawn. Their branches, tangled in gentle unity, breathe life into Oya’s heart. She stands, jacket tight, though not tight enough to harm.Harsh words between her and her significant other had carved this path beneath her feet. Too much thunder, too many unshed raindrops clinging to her lashes. Her mother had once said the Double Sakura was a place of reflection, where petals held whispers of restless souls. "Watch," she had urged, "see life unfurl in t...
Weekly Contest #286
Journal Entry: #286Date: March 25th, 2027Location: Mars Orbit, aboard the Apex Observer deployment capsule, drifting further away from home. My name is Jonathan Kirkpatrick. I have been granted the fortune of literacy and mobility; the ability to observe and comprehend; the means to assist and share. Yet I am burdened with a curse that is only amplified in my given situation: I cannot relinquish the grip of my past, even as I stand poised to propel humanity into its uncertain future. Which is an odd thing to say, as right now, I am alone, tr...
Weekly Contest #283
I was expecting this Christmas to feel joyous, at least compared to the ones that came before. Last year, Jacob’s snowboarding accident at the lodge was a major stinker. Then the year before, when Mom got really sick while Dad totaled the car against a telephone pole. Bad years, both of them. But bad things, they’ve always followed us, haven’t they? Like the night you finally got that invitation to basketball camp, only to find the car’s tires slashed the same evening. Or when we spent five whole days plotting out your homecoming proposal to...
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