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Weekly Contest #343
(CW: death, child death, imprisonment, violence) We wear our uniform without shame for our daily march. Your starfish hand is so small in mine, just big enough to grip tight to my index finger, your body tucked into the starched wool of my skirts. Skirts made from the same material your trousers are made from, your jacket too; they match everyone else who makes up our rank and file, each of us cut from the same cloth in a parade of grey as we walk the prison yard. We start the day with our usual song. The mulberry tree, our substitute maypol...
Winner of Weekly Contest #269 š
(CW: Grief, depression) There is a bomb in my hometown, and no one speaks about it. The park that surrounds it acts like a nest, grown up naturally around the smooth, rounded metal body that lies half buried in the soil, the ground itself embracing it. Sensible people would put it out of their minds altogether, but ever since my classmates and I discovered it by sneaking past the barbed wire fence into its clearing, I was never able to. At first, I had been disappointed. This, a charcoal grey container, half hidden by moss and bracken, was ...
Weekly Contest #268
(CW: Memory loss, needles, abusive parenting, medical malpractice, themes of death) I awake with a start into a body. I realise I have eyes that can open, and they do so. I realise I have fingers to twitch, and they curl around the arms of the chair Iām sat on, feeling the smooth, cool wood of its arms. The material is a rich warm brown, but lacks whorls and obvious woodgrain; its flaws have been untangled and banished, leaving only a perfectly plain blank slate. The before is nothing. Before this moment of waking, I was nothing, and therefo...
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