Rebecca Weinert

“In the Dark” by Rebecca Weinert

TW: abuse, cheating We have plenty of time. The sun has barely reached the windowsill, liquid gold on dark grey, light green where it touches the bouquet that you brought, the one leaf that you couldn’t stop from sticking out and making the whole arrangement feel a little rough. You’re facing me, chest rising and falling in slow, deep, safe breaths. I move a little closer until I can hear your soft sighs, my fingers tracing your shoulder where the blanket has slipped off. You frown a little, relax again and I catch myself smiling. My gaze...

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“Strawberry Cakes” by Rebecca Weinert

Submitted to Contest #99

The sun is blinking across the curved rooftops, I can barely see it from my balcony. A soft breeze is brushing through my open hair, messy from another restless night. I close my eyes and listen to the seagulls’ cries in the distance. If I focus, I can smell the faint, fresh salt in the air, hear the distant whispering of waves caressing a white beach. The air is still chilly and I pull the blanket a little tighter around my shoulders, a cup of lemon tea in my hand that is still too hot to drink. I lean back in my chair and blow on the liqui...

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“Rain” by Rebecca Weinert

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #98

TW: trauma, abuseThe smell of freshly ground coffee surrounds me. I am sitting at the table in the corner right next to the door, breathing in the fresh morning air, the scent of summer rain on cobblestones. I listen to the sound of the seagulls, a sound so new to me but so easy to get used to. The cup between my palms is still hot and I let my fingertips trace the rim, waiting for the coffee to cool so I can drink it.You never liked coffee. Maybe that’s why I picked it. The bitter taste still stings but I’m slowly getting used to it.The sou...

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“Starry Nights” by Rebecca Weinert

TW: emotional abuse, domestic abuse, trauma“The stars are bright tonight.”“True.”You are sitting next to me, on the old wooden bench underneath the oak tree. You are pulling your jacket tighter around your freezing body, fingers tightened into fists to hide the shaking. You are always the first one to freeze. Maybe the cold is kinder to me because we are familiar.“You don’t have to stay.” I look at you, your blue jeans and converse, the jacket that is way too thin for a chilly September night, but I know how much you despise thick jackets. I...

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“Memories” by Rebecca Weinert

Submitted to Contest #91

The door was locked. Elaine’s heart stopped, then started racing. No no no no no! Her stomach churned as she rattled on the heavy door that refused to open. Maybe whoever locked it was still there. She squinted through the glass panels but saw nothing except the warm light falling in through the entrance door onto the marble tiles at the other end of the hall. Illuminating her way out. No movement that could have hinted at the janitor still doing his evening check-up. I’m still in here, she wanted to scream, but didn’t. Elaine gave the ...

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