Sydney Crago

“A Tiny Problem” by Sydney Crago

Submitted to Contest #214

My ears filled with the sound of the refrigerator thrumming as I rearranged the freshly purchased goods on its shelves. I let the chill travel up my arms, a welcome relief from the blazing heat of late July. The noise of the appliance and the game of grocery Tetris kept my from registering the sound of the car pulling up to the house. My mother, however, did hear the car. She marched past me, slapping her flip f...

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“We Regret to Inform You” by Sydney Crago

Dear Miss Prescott, Thank you for attending our casting call for the Marquee Theater’s upcoming amateur production of “West Side Story.” The audition process has been completed at this time. We regret to inform you that the role of ANITA has been awarded to another member of the community. We appreciate your dedication to preparing your audition materials and understand the time, energy, a...

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“On My Recommendation” by Sydney Crago

Submitted to Contest #211

The phone on the desk rang again. “Annabeth?” Lindsey called over her shoulder, “can you get that?” The phone’s ringer was interrupted mind tone as the library’s assistant lifted the dated receiver from its cradle, stretching the tangled spirals of its cord as she pressed it to the side of her face. Lindsey dragged her finger along the spines of the books marking her progress as she scanne...

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“The Games Kids Play” by Sydney Crago

Submitted to Contest #210

74631283Too many digits for a local phone number, not enough to include the area code. Not enough for a bank account or a credit card. One digit shy of being a social security number. Too long to be a house number, too short for a Zip code +4. Laurel tapped her finger against the desk. For nearly 25 years, these numbers had stared detectives in the face, taunting them. Now they were leaving her sleepless and scrolling the internet.It was only a fluke that she ...

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“Five Stars” by Sydney Crago

Submitted to Contest #209

The woman closed the door of the black sedan and slung the leather purse off of her shoulder and onto her lap.  The engine hummed as the driver moved the gear shift from park to drive. The automatic locks clicked as the wheels of the car inched away from the curb and entered into the flow of traffic. The eyes in the rearview mirror glanced back to her. “107 Pine Street, right?” He asked. S...

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