Amanda Blackwood

“It's Not Kindness, It's Survival” by Amanda Blackwood

Lily hesitated, the door open just wide enough for the man’s hollow frame to be framed against the gray, swirling world outside. He had already begun to retreat, his shoulders hunched against a wind that seemed to cut through more than just fabric. The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them.“Wait,” she said, her voice catching. “I have tea.”The man stopped, turning back toward her, his face a mix of surprise and mistrust. His eyes flicked to the cracked mug in her hands, its rim chipped but still serviceable, then back to ...

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“Beneath the Broken Sky” by Amanda Blackwood

The world had ended long ago. At least, that’s what Lily told herself every morning when she opened her eyes to the thick, gray fog that hung in the air like a shroud. The days bled into each other now, indistinguishable from one another in their drudgery and silence. The streets, once filled with cars, laughter, and the hum of human life, now lay cracked and abandoned, overgrown with wild grasses and tangled vines. Buildings that had once been filled with warmth and purpose were now skeletal remains, their windows broken, their walls crumbl...

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“The Eyes of a Child” by Amanda Blackwood

Submitted to Contest #197

I walked out of the door to my temporary home in Scotland with nothing in my pockets but one cigarette and a lighter. I wouldn't need more than that, I figured. I didn't have more than that. I walked the short mile to an ancient graveyard where I sat on the church steps for an hour or two, praying somebody would find me and take me inside, to tell me I would be okay and that life was worth living. Tears were shed. They soaked into the beautiful red stone steps and disappeared into the cold. I wanted to do the same. Nobody came for me. ...

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“Cross of Scotland” by Amanda Blackwood

Submitted to Contest #154

WARNING: Sexual assault and human trafficking are mentioned throughout the body of this submission, as I am a REAL SURVIVOR of human trafficking. How many times have I been openly criticized for keeping that old cross? It was forged in 1811, created in Edinburgh, Scotland. It's the only remaining artifact I have that was ever given to me by the man who forced me into human trafficking. I can understand all too well why people would think I would want to get rid of such a momento, but it seems people are entirely too closed off when it come...

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“Throw An Apple At It” by Amanda Blackwood

Submitted to Contest #151

“If you see something green, throw an apple at it!” My grandmother shouted out of the blue and it scared the crap out of me. I was maybe eight at the time, and I genuinely had no idea what she was talking about, but she said it with such seriousness that I was afraid to crack a smile at the insanity of her words.  “What?” My confusion eventually overwhelmed me and I simply had to ask.  “Didn’t your mama ever teach you it’s not polite to stare?” She tisked at me. “I sure know I taught her that lesson.”  I loved my grandmo...

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“I'd Take It If I Could” by Amanda Blackwood

Submitted to Contest #148

Oh, Mark. What has become of you? It was obvious that we were both incredibly happy to see one another. We were both terrified at the same time, and both terrified for the same reason. We didn’t want you to get sick. I’d spend every single day here at your apartment with you if I could. Already your neighbors know me by name. I spend more time in your apartment than I do in mine. Five days a week I'm with you. We watched TV for a long time yesterday. Binge watching a series with you is a new experience. At one point you laid d...

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“Key to the Past” by Amanda Blackwood

Submitted to Contest #144

He picked through the rubble of what had been his childhood home, looking for anything that might be kept as a souvenir. Bryon meticulously opened drawer after drawer in the kitchen before moving on to the cupboards and then searching under piles of old papers and leaves that had been left to blow arbitrarily through the broken home, lifted by even the gentlest of breezes as it wafted through from the missing front door to the broken patio glass. He hadn’t been back there since that night.Memories would occasionally surface in his mind of th...

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“The Last Time We Spoke” by Amanda Blackwood

Submitted to Contest #144

It had become routine for the two of us by then and neither of us thought much of it when I held up the phone and took that hilarious photo. The two of us were celebrating my birthday more than a month late while we sat alone in a Chili’s. A single candle stuck out of a brownie sundae. We were both making faces, he with his eyes crossed, and me with my tongue sticking out in the shape of a straw. We took a couple other photos too, but they were the normal smiling faces people were accustomed to seeing on the internet. I couldn’t have been mo...

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