Konstantina Cheiladaki

“Mud!” by Konstantina Cheiladaki

Submitted to Contest #237

From: ahoc@bananabandana.comTo: robwarren@gmail.comSubject: No size selectedFriday 12 May 2023 12:24Good morning, Robert!Just checking in, I saw that you ordered a bandana from our store this morning, but didn’t specify the size. No worries though, your payment is secured, and your order will go through once you reply to this e-mail with your preferred size. If you need any help, please refer to our sizing guide attached below.Kind regards,Alexandra HockenyCustomer Support1 file attached: banana_bandana_sizing_chart.....From: robwarren@gmail...

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“The opposite of love.” by Konstantina Cheiladaki

The sea is cold, but I am colder. I hear the waves crushing on the rocks below, and in my mind I can see the foam hitting the hard grey wall, curving against it, only to disappear back into the endless blue. I woke up alone again. For a split second I thought that you were there, in my dream you were texting me, and I was eager to text you back. For a moment, a wonderful moment, I think it is real. But then I realize that nothing of it is real, there is no chance you would text me; not before hell freezes over. I listen to the sound of the ...

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“Things Like That Don't Happen In This Neighborhood.” by Konstantina Cheiladaki

Submitted to Contest #90

It was a fishing village as far back as she could remember. With waves crashing against the grey of the shore, their foam soaking people through. And little by little, every time the foam landed on them, they got a little of the Sea; until they became one, their minds liquid as Hers, an array of emotions only She could ever fathom.And oh, how they adored Her.She was the Mother that birthed them all, the divine blue of their quiet lives.It was a quiet village indeed, and as the grey and blue washed over them, nobody took more than they needed...

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“Home.” by Konstantina Cheiladaki

Submitted to Contest #89

“I just wanna go home,” her voice was rasped, the light hurting her eyes. “So come home,” ground control replied, a dry with age male voice. “So come home,” replied the stars. Day 278 since the Accident. She was running low. Her rations cut short, the only one left. Dry bread and packaged water. She knew she couldn’t make it; it was a ten-day trip to Mars, a five-day trip back home. “I don’t think I’ll make it, Jackson.” She had grown to think of the old man as a friend, but probably he was just another AI, no person in their right sense of ...

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“Pistachio” by Konstantina Cheiladaki

Submitted to Contest #81

I miss seeing people’s faces on the street. I remember my art teacher saying how the nose is the most prominent part of a face; well, Mr. Jackson, I haven’t seen a single nose in eight months. This probably sounds insane (does it really?) but I don’t know anymore. I quit smoking, I just chaw pistachio shells now, the crunching sound they make when they break is far more compelling than the smoke. I spend a whole day watching the neighbor’s cat pace up and down before the window. I don’t know her name; I call her Jade; she looks like a Jad...

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“You.” by Konstantina Cheiladaki

Submitted to Contest #68

“911, what’s your emergency?” You stand there; mocking me, your face the very definition of disgust. I end the call, tears stinging the back of my eyes. “What are you going to say?” Your voice drips with sarcasm, but in the light of the rising sun, you are beautiful. “That you ran out of pills?” I don’t answer and you scoff. Typical. But it is true, I ran out of pills this very morning. “Everyone is looking for you, you know that, right?” “And who is looking for you?” I snap back, and the sunrise is no longer beautiful, the rays are hurting ...

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“Forget Me Not” by Konstantina Cheiladaki

Submitted to Contest #67

Waking up, I can’t remember a thing of last night. Which isn’t new. The only thing anyone really remembers is that they have forgotten. “Breakfast!” a female voice called from downstairs, and she could be my mother, my sister, my aunt, hell, she could even be my wife. “In five!” I call back, reaching at the inside of my pillow. I don’t even have to remember to do it, it has become muscle memory after all these years. The new journal is yellow, its leather soft underneath my fingertips. I smile at the cluster inside my pillow, I am sleeping o...

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“Eternal” by Konstantina Cheiladaki

Submitted to Contest #60

"The Earth is littered with the ruins of empires that believed they were eternal." Stella underlined her writing on the chalkboard. "It is a quote by Camille Paglia and your work for today is to think about it, alright? Maybe write me a word or two on it." "What's an empire?" the dark skinned boy eyed the board with narrowed eyes. "It's, uh- Do you know what a kingdom is?" The boy nodded. "Well, imagine a kingdom, only much, much bigger, containing way more countries." "Oh," the boy nodded again, "like, like America?" The woman smiled....

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“Ghosts of Dust” by Konstantina Cheiladaki

Submitted to Contest #2

It was a sunny morning for Peter. And it stayed that way for him, even though the sky was covered with debris falling slowly on the ground, like the most peculiar snow, along with papers drifting through the air like weightless birds. And it was so; for Peter was lying motionless on the floor of his office, blood covering his forehead, as the floor was falling, and falling, to crash to the floor below, setting it on fire. And the date was September 11, 2001.            This is the story ...

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