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Weekly Contest #334
She knew the way and took her eyes off the road just long enough to spot her husband Farley looking absent and slumped in the passenger seat. Outside the windows, the forest passed by in a blur. It was late afternoon. The last few cars had left the park, along the now lonely highway. They reached the visitor center, tucked inside a clearing, and found the parking lot nearly empty. “Never seen it like this before,” she said, wondering.“Maybe they closed early. But it’s not a holiday,” Farley said. “Guess we should’a gone to a movie, Melinda.”...
Weekly Contest #329
It was the evening of October 25th when we saw Mr. Freetail. He was on the city walking trail, not exercising but standing near the edge of the path, with a face that was indiscernible at first. The encounter wasn’t eerie by any other means than this, and possibly the way he had come down the slope as though he were gliding over the rocks. His outline was dark, like a void in the glowing Autumn scene.Until now, I had been holding Megan’s hand, under the orange sky, feeling the crisp breeze that had come thankfully after a long summer. We had...
Weekly Contest #323
Halfway up Route 18, near the edge of the Mojave Desert, a redrock canyon cuts across ancient lava flows and scrubby foothills before fading, without fanfare, into the western horizon. The canyon is walled by high cliffs, perfect for wandering sightseers and swarms of rock climbers, happily risking their lives for the view. Far below the cliffs, in the canyon bottom, a web of hiking trails, adorned with manzanita and yucca and creosote, leads to great domed rock formations, big enough for crowds of weekend visitors on Saturday afternoons.But...
Weekly Contest #281
It was two weeks before Christmas, and Marty Blevins had just finished installing the last LED bulb above his fireplace, which was now lit up like a shrine. It was the final accomplishment, the final brush stroke, on his home remodeling work of art. Calling it “art” was probably high-minded, but Marty knew he was standing in a large new living room that had once been just a dirty old carport. Marty’s wife Gloria had been busy arranging chairs around the tables and fumbling with the stereo remote, to get the music just right. She wore a ...
Weekly Contest #262
As much as he wanted to kill it, he couldn’t. No matter how many times he smacked his sandal down on it, the fuzzy red ant would just vanish into the soft, hot sand only to reappear dustier, angrier–stinging at the air in contorted retaliation. “Somebody bring me a cup or something,” said Mr. Bauer, holding out his hand while his eyes were fixed downward. He just wanted to destroy the bug and move on. It had been a long day at Bear Lake, a mostly good day, but nearing the end of a long week. Mr. Bauer was the director of Bright Horizons...
Weekly Contest #235
He had to find him. He had to reach him in time, going back through time, because his thoughts would not let him forget. That boy. That awkward thing with gangly limbs and a brain tweaked by hormones, standing on a rock in the wilderness alone. He had to get to him before the prowlers could. To put his arms around him and tell him that life was ahead of him and not behind–to help him lift his chin and scatter his emotions. To help him see there is a time and a season for everything, and to be young is to be dumb. “Did you bring the righ...
Weekly Contest #230
It was near the city of Jaspur, not twenty miles from the outskirts, where a small village had suddenly found itself infested with tigers. They were not real tigers, of course. For years now, the real tigers could only be found in the wildlife parks. And mostly fallen into history were the sad accounts of people taken while working in the fields or sleeping in their beds. But these tigers–the kind that infested–were not capable of man-eating. Why? Because they were so small.It was believed that they had reached the village by hitchhiking in ...
Weekly Contest #227
The clouds were low and heavy, and the air was still in the hour before it came. A long bank of mist hovered over the bare trees which lined the country lanes. And where the lanes converged there was a dead-end road on which the boy lived in a comfortable, rambler-style, house surrounded by 200 acres of deep woods. And his heart was in these woods. When the sun dissolved below the horizon, he watched out the front window as darkness filled the leaf-strewn hollows. Cold shadows rose slowly out of the creek bottom, rounding the treetops a...
Weekly Contest #212
It had gone too far this time and even the mailbox seemed to know it; seemed to be laughing at him from the inside. The address on the letter was clearly not his, not even close: “1496 Bonanza Ave,” addressed to a Jennifer Waterman, in a city that was at least twenty miles away. By itself the incident should’ve been of little concern–a simple oversight by the carrier, who was still visible in his Jeep down the street.“But it’s happened so many times before,” he thought as he slid the envelope out of the cold box and held it in his trembling ...
Weekly Contest #205
The old Ford pickup, having spent its entire life on its wheels, was now upside down at the bottom of Angel Creek. Steam hissed slowly from the radiator and the frame was now a twisted mess of metal and rust, draped over mid-stream boulders. In the light of a full moon, Gerald McGraw groped for the driver side window frame, trying to pull himself out. Broken glass glittered his hair and clothes, cutting into his elbows as he tried to wrench himself free. His right leg was still pinned between the dash ...
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