Your character, having abstained from their worst vice (big or small), finds new clarity.

Posted in Character on Jan 12, 2024

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✍️ 50 stories

“The Hunter of Love ” by Irene Mina

Submitted to Contest #233

There is blood on my hands. The sight sends my heart racing. Not with fear as you might think. No, but with delight. The man’s face is cold and pale and his neck is red. He’s in my basement. His name is Michael White and I’ve left his wife at home waiting indefinitely for his return. I don’t know where he comes from, his likes or dislikes. All I know is that I can’t stand seeing him alive. I can’t stand the fact that he had a reason to live. My entire family is dead. Every single ancestor and relative. Why should all these people...

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“The Mower Man.....” by Julie Grenness

Submitted to Contest #233

Yes, it was still raining, on the first day of summer. Riley, the Mower Man, huddled in his work vehicle, gazing in despair at sheets of pounding, flooding rain. Spring had been like this too. He was way behind on all his gardening rounds, his clients kept sending him despairing text messages. "No one can stop the rain," Riley told himself. This morning, his significant other had given him the shopping money and told him to shop for the family groceries. As if he didn't have enough to do! Riley and his flame, Olivia, had one child between th...

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“Possibly Your Last” by Robin Owens

Submitted to Contest #233

Lisa surprised herself by not getting out of the car. The valet stood by shifting from foot to foot while her body stiffened, holding still as a tombstone. Cars began to line up behind her in the hotel’s semicircular drive. She could sense this but was paralyzed by the smallest shift in her mind, something she felt but couldn’t quite grasp, like an elusive stray hair that tickles your face. Marcus was waiting for her inside, she knew. Predictable as a puppy, though less forgiving. This would hurt his pride, her no-show to their, what is it...

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“‘’‘In All Toil There is Profit’’” by Francis T. Baker

Submitted to Contest #233

‘’‘In All Toil There is Profit’’Henry stood outside the alehouse, his hands still deeply buried in the pockets of his decaying coat. Even thought there was a frost in the air he’d hesitated outside, loitering for a moment. He stood there and inspected the derelict building closer as if it was his first time seeing it. It's exterior facade gave away little of its purpose but much of its quality. If the alehouse had a name it wasn’t advertised and the squalid look of the narrow, crooked doorway only served as a rather inadequate warning for th...

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“Clara” by Lakithi Ranawaka Arachchi

Submitted to Contest #233

The world is burning. It must be. You have no idea where you are, only that it's too hot and too cold and there's something wrapped around your legs and you can't get it off and you're kicking and kicking but it won't come off and fuck- Fuck. Something is wrong. You manage to get the thing off. You vaguely register it as a blanket, but you can't get much further than that. The fabric still kind of rubs against your shins and the sides of your feet, but it's not so unbearable now. Good. You want to scream. You want to get up and scr...

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“Dry January” by Faith Scheffler

Submitted to Contest #233

I’d just finished my last tequila seltzer. The ground was being gently tucked in by a soft blanket of snow. It's so quiet and peaceful this time of night, especially being home on the island instead of the city for once. The streetlights danced as the flurries made their long and silent journey to the blacktop below. I hadn’t seen snow-fall in a while. I used to love the way my nose would get runny and my breath would feel hollow. Life gets all the more beautiful when you remind yourself that this is the only time you get to live this moment...

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“What a failed sugar cleanse taught me about addiction ” by Yvette Okeke

Submitted to Contest #233

My fingers tapped the coffee cup restlessly. “Ughhh this is just my luck,” I licked my lips to savor the sweet French vanilla creamer I had accidentally poured in my tea. Yes, I meant accidentally. I was on my 8th day of a thirty-day-new-year sugar cleanse and after demonstrating strong will against the post-holiday sweets at the office, that incident totally cramped my style. I had walked into the new year much like everyone else, optimistic and motivated to better myself. For me this betterment involved a sugar cleanse to evict all the po...

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“The Habit ” by Katie DeMerchant

Submitted to Contest #233

Ben would often shrug when confronted about the habit. It had caused the end of relationships, embarrassed his mother to no end and even forced him into a brutal and pathetic (on his side) fistfight. In all other ways, Ben was a very average man. The kind of man that caused little reaction in people. He was straight, of average height, and average build, his hair was light brown and so were his eyes. He was white and carried in his bones the sort of security that would mean he’d lead a pretty mild and boring life. If it weren’t for the...

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“Dry January” by Lindsay Southworth

Submitted to Contest #233

I can hardly bring myself to open my eyes upon waking. The world is already spinning behind my closed lids and I know I’ll feel even worse when I see the destruction my New Year’s Eve celebration has wrought upon my home. Don’t get me wrong, last night was glorious. I felt on top of the world, indestructible. I had fun, I laughed, you could even say I was the life of the party. But is it worth how drained, how depleted, how guilty I will inevitably feel for the first few days of this new year? At my age, shouldn’t I know better? I blink my...

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“Mirror” by Raz Kani

Submitted to Contest #233

Not a single compliment in 11 days. I woke up with a compulsion 11 days ago and I couldn’t bring the brush in my hand to paint my face. 11 days ago I abandoned my life long canvas, abandoned my most prized possession, the pristine face I worked so hard on. The one reflecting back at me in the mirror. I’ve been an admirer of beauty from the beginning of my memory. Embroidered edges on fine bed sheets, lovely fluffy stuffed animals, shiny shoes and lace trimmed socks. Beautiful braids with ribbons weaved in and bows at the end. Sparkly...

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“May in summer” by Natálie Safarova

Submitted to Contest #233

The day she was born had been marked by a long-awaited rainfall. May knew this as it was her dad’s favourite story to tell at dinner parties and to any friend that came over to hang out or sleep over. It wasn’t the rain that made him tell it, it was what followed the rain. “It was an incredibly hot day in August.” He would begin to recount dramatically to anyone finding themselves captive out of politeness or simply the incapacity of leaving. I’ll spare you the details of the story and provide a summary. It was a very hot August (as...

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“Day 4,381” by Dafna Flieg

Submitted to Contest #233

Dear Florence, I wanted to write to you to tell you my story. The whole thing and the one I never had the chance to tell you before. I hated being in there but I loved being in there with you. I wish you could have stayed a bit longer, or known that the outcome wouldn’t be as scary as the income was. I'm sorry that this is getting to you too late but, I wanted it to get to you at all, so here it goes: They caught up with me on a Tuesday. My body was a dead giveaway by giving out on the abandoned hallway floor of my high sch...

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“Tea with Honey & Lemon” by Nicole Mancuso

Submitted to Contest #233

I used to think I deserved it – I’d convinced myself, really. Mornings were for coffee: a dash of cream and that warm, sunrise hug filling my favorite cup. That has always been enough for me at 6 AM. Watching the pink sky give way to blue, hearing my boys yawn and sneak out of their beds, all with perfect mental clarity. Work, school, afternoon obligations have always been happily saturated in water or a cup of lemon tea. It was evenings that called for something stronger. Like clockwork, from Monday to Friday, I’d step over th...

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“Only So Many Times” by Kyle Nilsen

Submitted to Contest #233

I can’t stop moving. My body wont let me. My hands grip the bed covers as my legs do a pedaling type movement. I’m freezing yet sweat has covered most of the sheets. My eyes are closed and I see things. Terrible things. Call them demons, monsters, whatever sick, strange, unimaginable things, I see them. Can’t very much keep my eyes open as I’m so very dizzy. My head is light and I feel I am on the cusp of a seizure. Never had one before. By the grace of God only, I would imagine. I’m moaning and repeating ‘’No….please God, no. Make it go awa...

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“I Live To Post” by Debra Demars

Submitted to Contest #233

Every day of my life...now..... for years ....I have posted online. I have spent all day with my nose glued to my smart phone. Coffee in one hand, smart phone in the other. Days have slipped from morning sunshine into night time darkness, with me still curled up on the couch...posting. I have forgotten to eat, because I was too busy posting. I have lost days on end, too busy posting. I bring my smart phone with me everywhere I go. I bring it with me to restaurants, family get togethers, grocery stores, conv...

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Your character, having abstained from their worst vice (big or small), finds new clarity.

Submissions are closed

✍️ 50 stories

“The Hunter of Love ” by Irene Mina

“The Mower Man.....” by Julie Grenness

“Possibly Your Last” by Robin Owens

“‘’‘In All Toil There is Profit’’” by Francis T. Baker

“Clara” by Lakithi Ranawaka Arachchi

“Dry January” by Faith Scheffler

“What a failed sugar cleanse taught me about addiction ” by Yvette Okeke

“The Habit ” by Katie DeMerchant

“Dry January” by Lindsay Southworth

“Mirror” by Raz Kani

“May in summer” by Natálie Safarova

“Day 4,381” by Dafna Flieg

“Tea with Honey & Lemon” by Nicole Mancuso

“Only So Many Times” by Kyle Nilsen

“I Live To Post” by Debra Demars

🌟 Similar prompts

Write a story about a character participating in Dry January.

Write a story in the form of diary entries, written by someone who has set themselves a month-long challenge.

Set your story in a bar that doesn’t serve alcohol.

Set your story during a month of drought — whether literal, or metaphorical.

Contest #233

Enter our weekly contest!

$250

Prize money

231

Contest entries

78

Stories

Win $250 in our short story competition 🏆

Explore more writing prompt ideas: