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Weekly Contest #289
For as long as Olivia could remember, there was an empty space on the wall of her grandmother's sitting room. The dusty outline of a missing frame sat between family portraits, a haunting reminder of what—or who—had been erased.No one ever mentioned it. When she inquired, her mother would simply purse her lips and shake her head, while her grandmother would murmur, "He doesn't exist anymore."But Olivia was always the type of person who wanted to know the whole story.She discovered the photograph years later, after her grandmother had passed ...
The room is unfamiliar. I don’t know how I got here. The walls loom around me, bare and smooth concrete, oppressive in their silence. No windows. There is no hint of the outside world. Only this cold, lifeless box. Overhead, a single bulb flickers, casting erratic shadows that slither across the floor like creatures. The light hums, a low, electric drone that settles into my bones. The air is thick, stale, and has a chemical, acrid odor. It coats my tongue and settles in my throat, choking me with a taste I can't identify. My head throbs, a ...
Weekly Contest #286
Lucas Grayson lived with a strange anxiety, a shadow with which he had been plagued since childhood: the fear of being forgotten. Not the end itself, but the quiet erasing that followed bothered him—not death itself. His name seemed to vanish into thin air, unheard, forgotten, and the idea tormented him, a gradual anguish he could never quite get rid of. People in the little town Lucas grew up remembered more for their mistakes than for their achievements. You can become a legend from a bad marriage or a drunk episode at the cafe. But like s...
The worn handle of Mia’s suitcase had shaped itself to her grip, as if it were a natural part of her hand. At fifteen, she had already moved through nine foster homes. Each move left its mark on her suitcase—the scuffs along its corners, the fraying zipper that barely held on. It was more than just luggage; it was the only constant in her life, the one possession that truly felt hers. Inside it was her entire world: a few changes of clothes, a book softened by dog-eared pages, a photograph of her mother—more a memory than a person—and a stuf...
Weekly Contest #285
As 1999 came to a close, there was an unusual atmosphere that permeated the streets of Maplewood. A hint of unpredictability permeated every encounter, strategy, and hushed discourse; this was no ordinary holiday cheer. There was apprehension that the world's computers may crash and throw civilization into disarray as the Y2K deadline approached. Neighbors in the quiet cul-de-sac of Elmwood Drive who had previously engaged in only casual small talk were now drawn together by a common sense of anxiety. As the "millennium bug" loomed on the ho...
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