Tori Routsong

“Sisterly Quarrel” by Tori Routsong

“Did you just come here to mock me?” “I came here to see you. There’s nothing wrong with that.” “Don’t lie to me.” “I never lie.” “You do nothing but lie.” “Whatever else you are, my dear, you are my sister.”  “Half sister.” “Is it so wrong I’d want to see you? We group up together. I taught you to read.” “And then you allied yourself with our enemies and left me here to die.” “Don’t play the victim, Arsinoe, your acting is pathetic and whining doesn’t suit you. Whether you ever acted like it or not, you are of royal blood.” “Nice of yo...

1 like 0 comments 0

Read story

“Lovers' Reunion” by Tori Routsong

Submitted to Contest #161

Carmen stared down at the faintly glowing body in disbelief, her ragged breath the only thing preventing her from appearing as a statue, completely still.  “Ta da!” The Mystic beside her brandished a shaky, liverspotted hand at the young girl on the floor. “One lover, locked and loaded!” “Are… are you…” “Always this amazing? Yes, yes, I–” “Freaking kidding me?” Carmen finally snapped, turning to stare at the Mystic with bulging brown eyes. “This is not in any way what I asked for– what I paid for!” “Oh, no, no, no,” the Mystic chid...

10 likes 6 comments 6

Read story

“When She's Older” by Tori Routsong

Submitted to Contest #112

Later, when she’s older and her bones pop when she bends down, she’ll remember this. It makes sense. It smells the same-- Nebraska isn’t so different from Missouri in the rain, and it’s the same muddy scent, even though she’s on the driveway and not in the grass right now. The smell remains the same, and it’s the smell that’ll make her remember, when she’s older, this day in the rain.  She’ll remember how the rain beats down, plastering her hair to her forehead. It will be longer by then, but for now it's short and stuck against her sk...

12 likes 6 comments 6

Read story

“The Stenographer” by Tori Routsong

Submitted to Contest #111

She looks young. Twenty-three, maybe? I’m biased, of course-- she reminds me of my youngest sister a bit. It’s the hair, I think, or maybe the clothes-- nice enough, but a little poorly fitting, like she’d gone out with her mother before starting the job and bought anything that seemed business casual enough to wear in a government building.  “Marianne, right?” She shrugs, as if she isn’t sure. She’s still shaking. “You can call me Annie, I guess. Everyone does.”  “Alright, then, Annie, why don’t you have a seat.” I tried to pic...

21 likes 4 comments 4

Read story

“Generational Conflict” by Tori Routsong

Blech. The coffee’d grown cold and whoever’d made it that morning had somehow managed to screw up the most basic of processes, leaving a muddy floor of silty coffee grounds in the paper cup. Louise grimaced. Seriously, it wasn’t like it was hard to make a pot of coffee decently. There were exactly two ingredients.  She almost spilled said bad cup o f coffee as she sat down, but it’s not l8ike it could’ve made the computer any slower. Louise spun in her chair. Thank God she got paid by the hour. The computer itself wheezed at her, as if...

2 likes 1 comment 1

Read story

“The Last Nine Minutes” by Tori Routsong

Submitted to Contest #89

The last second of Cassie Maclay’s life was cold, but filled with wonder. The sky was gorgeous, painted in the hues of the residual sunset that hadn’t heard the news that the sun had already imploded, or vanished, or whatever had happened, and she held her baby brother’s forearm with a sort of anxious delight. It was inevitable, as inevitable as the movements of the stars. What was there to be done? She barely understood how the sun works, much less how she could get it to pop back into existence. Astronomy was beautiful, sure, but utterly i...

18 likes 2 comments 2

Read story

“A Battle of Wits” by Tori Routsong

Submitted to Contest #62

Charis leaned over Cleopatra to grab her cup. “So, are you worried about going home?” Cleopatra sipped her wine, and grimaced. The farther they got from Italy, the more bitter and watered down the wine became. “Worried?” “Anxious. You haven’t been home since your dad got exiled. Are you worried that things have changed?” “Of course they’ve changed. I wouldn’t be going home if they hadn’t.” “Don’t play dumb with me.” Cleopatra sighed. “Fine, fine. I’m not worried, per se. I anticipate that it will be… eventful.” “Are you excited, then?...

20 likes 0 comments 0

Read story

“The Legacy of the Second Daughter” by Tori Routsong

Submitted to Contest #57

Cleopatra tapped her earpiece awkwardly and fidgeted with the microphone in her collar. “And you’re sure that this will translate the… English, you said?” She looked at the markings in the pod nervously. None of the six languages she spoke came in handy here.Maline looked down at her tablet. “It should. English is a bit… strange, so I can’t be quite sure, but you’re understanding me just fine with your translator on and I’m speaking modern Greek now, so it should work for English. I wish I had more time to test it out, but I was just so exci...

29 likes 6 comments 6

Read story

“A New Face in the Embassy” by Tori Routsong

Submitted to Contest #56

“Ma’am? It’s almost time to meet the ambassador.” Delaney Cohen cracked her neck and buttoned the last button on her top. She puffed out her cheeks and examined her lipstick for any smudges—it’d been a while since she spoke French. Maybe the ambassador would speak English and she wouldn’t have to fake her way through a terrible accent. She grabbed her lucky pebble and slipped it into her skirt pocket. “Ma’am? Ms. Cohen?” “Sorry, Olive.” Delaney smoothed down the fly-aways in her hair and brushed the “I still believe” bumper sticker she’d...

25 likes 2 comments 2

Read story

“The Quest for Ibuprofen” by Tori Routsong

Submitted to Contest #52

The snow sticks to my pyjama pants—I knew I should’ve put on jeans, but my bones just ache so much. I fumble with the car keys, which feel unduly clumsy between my fingers. I should’ve just stuck out the fever at home. The parking lot is bare, with only my car and a small pickup truck, but there are lights on in the grocery store so I suppose they’re still open. The employees must park in the back, I guess. The wind blows faster, cutting through my ratty sweatshirt. If I’d known there was going to be a blizzard I wouldn’t have risked dri...

20 likes 3 comments 3

Read story

“The Fate of the Second Daughter” by Tori Routsong

Submitted to Contest #48

“Eldest sister?” Bernice looked down at her little sister, whose big brown eyes were, as always, brimming with unbridled curiosity. “Yes?” “Do you know where Father is?” The eight-year-old scrambled up onto a chair next to her sister, peering hungrily at the figs that Bernice had halved for herself. Bernice sighed, and pushed the plate towards her sister. “Go nuts.” “Thanks!” With a gap-toothed grin, Bernice watched as her sister pulled a jar of honey out of her pocket. Clever kid, she thought. She’d planned to steal those figs before...

23 likes 6 comments 6

Read story

“Love's Letter” by Tori Routsong

Submitted to Contest #47

The coffee has grown cold in the time since you started the Keurig and proceeded to forget about the coffee entirely. You look down in disgust—nothing worse than cold coffee. You take a sip anyway, grimacing as it pours down your throat. If Jules were still here, she’d tell you to put a little milk, ice and vanilla in there and give it a swirl and it’d be good as new.Jules isn’t here anymore though. You take another sip of bitter, cold coffee.The walk from the kitchen to your computer seems even longer now that you can hear your bare feet sl...

27 likes 2 comments 2

Read story

“You've Got Time” by Tori Routsong

Submitted to Contest #44

Marcellus looked up at Mt. Vesuvius, looming over the city like a gentle giant, protecting their city. He tightened his grip around his younger brother and wished he could fill his brother with the mountain’s strength. “It’ll be good again,” he said. His dog, Dorcea, whined, and put her chin on Crispus’s foot. Crispus sniffed and rubbed his eyes. “I know, but… I can’t believe that she’s gone.” “Crispus… Kiddo, she left two months ago. I thought you were doing better.” Marcellus bit his lip. Crispus had always been over emotional, but this...

28 likes 4 comments 4

Read story

“Into the Crawlspace” by Tori Routsong

Submitted to Contest #43

“You—what?”Quentin sighed and readjusted his grip on the tree branch. “For the last time, I found a giant stone fox statue in the crawlspace behind my closet and I don’t know how to get it out on my own and I can’t fall asleep with it there because there’s a hole in my closet from that time that we locked Quade in there back in seventh grade.”“So? There’s still a door for the crawlspace, right? Ergo, no problem,” Alexander slurred. He rubbed his eyes and looked up to where the stars would be if it wasn’t for all the light pollution. It was f...

25 likes 10 comments 10

Read story

“Sisterly Love” by Tori Routsong

Submitted to Contest #42

“Beth, please! Don’t do this! Magic shouldn’t be used like this, you can’t bring her back, you—” “Can’t I?” Beth casts a snide grin at me before looking back at her computer. “No, you can’t! I asked Mal, and he—” “Mal is a child. He never knew the whole of what this power could do.” I squirm. I have to crane my neck at such a severe angle to see Beth from my vantage point of strapped to the floor that it hurts my neck and eyes both. “Only one person has ever succeeded, and they only—” “They only brought the target back for seventeen minutes...

38 likes 14 comments 14

Read story