Sue Hunter

“You, Me, and the Existential Dread” by Sue Hunter

Submitted to Contest #151

It’s hard to break something you don’t know exists. If you don’t know what a car is, how can you crash it? How are you supposed to chop down a tree if you don’t understand what an axe does? But, even if you did know how to crash the car or chop the tree, what if you physically couldn’t? Isn’t that worse, in some way? That, despite you wanting to do something, you just couldn’t. Your feet can’t reach the pedals. Your arms can’t hold the axe. You simply do not have the ability to break anything at all. Oh, yeah, sorry. Guess I got carried a...

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“Hotspot” by Sue Hunter

Submitted to Contest #148

Carol hadn’t wanted anything to do with her old man’s business. Taking care of an apartment complex is no easy feat. Sure, it kept money in her pocket, but most of that money went right back into broken appliances. When it wasn’t the washing machine, it was the drier. When it wasn’t the drier, it was the sink. When it wasn’t the sink, it was the toilet. Carol had to keep a list of every messed-up machine in the complex.And that wasn’t even mentioning the worst part: the tenants. Mrs. Donald’s had five cats that scratched up the furniture and...

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“The Tree Line” by Sue Hunter

It was a beautiful party. Such a shame she was going to die. Gladys was sitting in an old pastor’s chair, hands tied to the armrests with zip-ties. It was a comfortable seat, all things considered. The pastor probably had a good time in days long past, listening to a choir sing old hymns before his sermon. There wasn’t a podium anymore, nor a cross hung up on the wall. Only a few pews remained, pushed up against the walls to allow for maximum dance space. Gladys leaned back into the chair, trying to sink into the cushions.She was on a stage,...

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“Not Your Average Clouds” by Sue Hunter

Submitted to Contest #143

The Jeep was battered. The bumper had a dent in it from where Erin had backed up into a streetlamp three years ago. The AC refused to work anymore. She had to jerk the steering wheel in order to make a fast turn, and one tire perpetually leaked air. But it was the only car she had. Erin started the ignition, the car sputtering twice before it finally decided to wake up. Her chipped nails tapped against the wheel as she waited in the parking lot. After a few minutes, the main door to the weather station slammed open, a chubby man running to...

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“Sessions 2, 5, and 9” by Sue Hunter

Submitted to Contest #140

          “You said you had some things you wanted to talk about, Helen. Tell me, what’s on your mind?”           “I don’t know, I guess I’ve just been feeling really burnt out lately. I feel like I keep repeating the same chores every single day. I have no way to liven things up.”           “I see. What about your friends? Why not ask them to hang out?”     &...

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“Fiat Justitia” by Sue Hunter

Submitted to Contest #138

His skin was covered with a layer of grime. Not that he could see it, mind you. It was too dark in his tiny room to see his own hands. Yet he could feel it. It was a mixture of something slimy and gritty, like sand and jelly. Just thinking about jelly made his mouth water, and soon his saliva joined the dirt on his arm. When was the last time the slot on his door opened to give him food? He’d lost all sense of time.           There was some semblance of happiness, in his prison. The room...

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“Does the Cap and Gown Make Me Grown?” by Sue Hunter

Submitted to Contest #137

She stood there, a can of soda clutched in her hand. The bathroom was the only place in the house where she could be alone. The condensation from the drink was cold, making her hands freeze. It was a good feeling. The cold kept her from getting stuck in her own head. She leaned over the sink, taking a tentative sip in the hopes it would keep herself from getting sick. It didn’t work.            The noise from the party bled through the doors. Her party. Her graduation party. Amy sat the ...

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“Swing and a Miss” by Sue Hunter

Everything terrible in his life had happened at the baseball field. It all started when he was two, and his dad had taken him to a game at the old man’s former high school. The old geezer was, supposedly, taking a nap in his red sports chair, the kind you could set on the bleachers with a back for support. No one saw the ball coming towards Brandon until it was too late, and the ball had smacked his two-year-old self right on the head.            Brandon’s father had apologized profusely...

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“The Lunch” by Sue Hunter

He couldn’t remember the last time he had a proper meal. His shoes were worn down. One of his soles was partially detached from the shoe so that every time he walked forward, a flopping noise followed him. All he had to his name was an old backpack and a few bottles of half-drunken water. He’d stopped feeling pain in his feet a day ago, and Paul was too scared to take off his shoes and see the damage.           Maybe that’s why, when he saw the sign—Greensville, 5 miles ahead—he ignored ...

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“Boys” by Sue Hunter

The swing was hanging from the old oak tree’s thickest branch. Brady swung his legs back and forth, his feet barely touching the dirt. His friend George sat near the tree’s trunk, clutching at a big red ball.            “Why are you leaving?” George squeezed the ball tight to his chest, eyes following Brady as he swung back and forth.            Brady stopped swinging his legs at the question, letting himself slowly come to a stop. “...

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“We Aren't Doing Anything” by Sue Hunter

Submitted to Contest #133

“We aren’t doing anything for our anniversary.” Steven’s wife straightened out the bottom of her dress, giving her outfit another look in the mirror. Steven still sat in bed, bleary eyes watching Laura give her hair a scrunch with her hands.            “But we could,” he said, though he already knew she would shoot him down again. “We could do something simple. Like a picnic, or we could watch a movie. I could even make you dinner.”          &...

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