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#101 Antanaclasis

Benjamin Franklin’s famous quip “your argument is sound, nothing but sound” may be the best known example of antanaclasis. This is a literary device in which a word is repeated but has two different senses (here, “sound” meaning both “sensible” and “a load of noise”) — reminder that in writing, as in everything, context matters.

 

With this week’s prompts, we're using antanaclasis as a jumping off point to create stories that play with repetitions, routines, and the importance of context in creating meaning.

🥇 Winner

Colleen

Winner of Contest #101 🏆

Colleen is packing to leave for university. She folds her clothes into neat piles, her fair hair arranged in an artfully messy bun, with gold strands curling around her face. She packs her rolled up socks into the maze of groves left by the clothes piles. Her movements are thoughtful and tender, like she is tucking them into bed. I watch her from my quiet corner outside the door of her room, chewing on a hangnail. I am still wearing my pyjamas and I haven’t showered yet today. I stare at her, willing her to hear my voice in her hea...

356 likes 142 comments 142
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⭐️ Shortlisted

dysphoria's love letter.

Shortlisted for Contest #101 ⭐️

CW: transphobia When she cries, you try to ignore her.    It’s hard. Granted, most people don’t like hearing young girls cry but you have no other choice: Nothing you can do will ever make her stop. She has been crying for as long as you can remember, determined to remind you of the things you did. Of course, you’re the cause for her crying, aren’t you? Who else would listen to a young girl cry until she was nothing more than the melody that allows you to sleep every night?   When her mother begs to see her, you have to tell h...

98 likes 8 comments 8
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Big girl

Shortlisted for Contest #101 ⭐️

CW: body shaming, mental health, body image issues The mirror's size, shape, clarity; the lighting in the room, the color of the paint on the walls, the surfaces in the reflection, whatever was behind me; none of that mattered. Those things weren’t the problem. The problem was the fat girl in the mirror’s reflection. The problem was me.  My dad is Wayne, my brother is Wayne Jr., and my mother died of breast cancer when I was thirteen. We’ve always been the big family. Not like, “there’s a lot of people in that family” big, but like, “wo...

47 likes 13 comments 13
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Crush

Shortlisted for Contest #101 ⭐️

It’s late spring in New England, and the sun is warm syrup pouring down, making hikers sticky and hot. Hair clings to Tessa’s temples like scum at the lake’s waterline. The seventh-grade class vibrates with excitement on their field trip and she scrambles to keep up. They carry logbooks and at the gurgling brook everyone halts to record observations. She writes: “Small fish came to my hand and touched me with their noses and rushed away. I think I scared them.” Then they’re off again tramping through scrubland. When the teacher’s back is tur...

42 likes 11 comments 11
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Today The Phone Won't Ring

Shortlisted for Contest #101 ⭐️

Today the phone won’t ring. She checked as soon as she woke up. Dead breath in her mouth. The guy next to her--an aberration. He should have gone home. She made it explicitly clear to him that under no circumstances could he stay the night. He said he just wanted to rest his eyes while he waited for his Lyft. Now here he is. He’s upset the balance. She should beat him to death with the coffeepot, but that would only derail the morning further. Once he’s up and out (“I’ll call you when I’m back from Fiji. Big things going on there. Really...

36 likes 5 comments 5
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The Man in the Mirror

Shortlisted for Contest #101 ⭐️

How often do you look at yourself in a mirror? Sure, you may check to see how far a certain shirt comes down your waist, or maybe you check to make sure the part of your hair is in the right spot, or maybe you’ve been hitting the gym more frequently and want to see your progress. Perhaps you want to see if that shirt still fits from your 20’s. But this is not what David was tasked with. He wasn’t supposed to look at his body, he was supposed to look at himself. David couldn’t remember the last time he’d done that.&nb...

30 likes 4 comments 4
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Magic Like Zizou

Shortlisted for Contest #101 ⭐️

CW: substance abuse Our communication was laborious: a labour of love. He didn’t speak my language, nor I his. Neither of us fully mastered our third, French, the one we shared. Our earliest conversations, then, were exceptionally banal, little more than names and nodding. We established a common love of football, listed teams, national and international, the names of players, deduced which ones we both liked. Henry. Barthez. Schmeichel. Cantona. “Zizou.” He said the name like it was a magic word, and I responded, slowly, nodding with the sa...

26 likes 2 comments 2
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Funny Little Birds

Shortlisted for Contest #101 ⭐️

As Marjory sat in her armchair, a steaming cup and saucer of tea next to her, she ruminated on how it had been a long time since someone had come to see her. It was a nice feeling, having a visitor. The window in which her armchair was situated had a wonderfully clear view of the sloped lawn outside her home and Marjory got a lot of pleasure from watching the wind sway the trees to and fro and the birds flitting about. She especially liked it when they landed on the feeders, pausing and pecking with sharp staccato movements and an alert wari...

23 likes 8 comments 8
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Blood on O'Connell Street

Shortlisted for Contest #101 ⭐️

There was blood on O’Connell Street; I saw it walking home. I didn’t notice it at first. You don’t notice these things all at once when you live in the city and you’re just focused on keeping your head down and not looking anyone in the eye. But all it took was looking up for just half a moment, and there it was. Even in the swarm of the early evening, when tourists nervously wander along in bunched-up groups of three or more and gaggles of college students gather in ragged crowds outside of nightclubs and local pubs, the trail stood out ...

22 likes 2 comments 2
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This week's prompts

Write about a character doing something they’ve done hundreds of times — only this time, it’s taken on a new meaning.

Character – 148 stories

Write a story about a character who fails to understand something until they have the full context.

Character – 75 stories

Write a story in which the same line recurs three times.

Fiction – 162 stories

Write a story about a character who always repeats themselves.

Character – 45 stories

Write a story that involves a reflection in a mirror.

Horror – 291 stories

Stories

Colleen

Winner of Contest #101 🏆

Colleen is packing to leave for university. She folds her clothes into neat piles, her fair hair arranged in an artfully messy bun, with gold strands curling around her face. She packs her rolled up socks into the maze of groves left by the clothes piles. Her movements are thoughtful and tender, like she is tucking them into bed. I watch her from my quiet corner outside the door of her room, chewing on a hangnail. I am still wearing my pyjamas and I haven’t showered yet today. I stare at her, willing her to hear my voice in her hea...

356 likes 142 comments 142
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Prom Night

Submitted to Contest #101

“Do you like it?” Gracie asked anxiously. I didn’t look in the mirror, but I pretended to.“It’s perfect!” I squealed in my well-rehearsed girl voice, hugging her. It was so easy to make Gracie happy. “You are a makeup goddess!”“You are so lucky you have a date,” she said. I nodded silently. I couldn’t really say I disagreed. As much as I wanted to take a girl to prom, that wasn’t happening, and my parents love Keith, so I might as well make them proud one last time.“I mean, all the good ones from our school are taken,” she continued. “Y...

134 likes 40 comments 40
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My Long Overdue Letter to Me

Submitted to Contest #101

July 8, 2021 Attn: Mr. Stevie B’s Reflection c/o Mia Mind Music 256 Sixth Street Suite # 2 Hobohemia, NJ, 07030 Re: These occasional lapses in communication Dear Self, Long time no see (LOL). You’re not looking all that bad today. I keep bumping into you in the bathroom mirror, but it seems like we never get the opportunity to talk anymore. We usually see each other in the mornings while shaving, and brushing our teeth, combing what’s left of our hair. Other than that, we don’t spend too much of our time looking in the old, looking...

103 likes 61 comments 61
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dysphoria's love letter.

Shortlisted for Contest #101 ⭐️

CW: transphobia When she cries, you try to ignore her.    It’s hard. Granted, most people don’t like hearing young girls cry but you have no other choice: Nothing you can do will ever make her stop. She has been crying for as long as you can remember, determined to remind you of the things you did. Of course, you’re the cause for her crying, aren’t you? Who else would listen to a young girl cry until she was nothing more than the melody that allows you to sleep every night?   When her mother begs to see her, you have to tell h...

98 likes 8 comments 8
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bastard

Submitted to Contest #101

Bastard.It’s the first thing he hears when he comes into this world, pink-skinned and pink-gummed and dripping with pink fluids.A midwife holds him against the soft glow of an aqualamp and waits for tender eyelids to peel open. When they finally do, her smile withers away. Two syllables drip from her mouth like acid. It’s only once she presses him into her mother’s embrace, as if she can’t bear touching his flesh any longer, does he hear his own name. It should be the first thing he hears, and it’s too late.His mother’s tears stream down her...

91 likes 75 comments 75
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For The Last Time

Submitted to Contest #101

“Ow! You little bugger—you’ve nipped me for the last time.” Five months in, breastfeeding had lost its luster, especially as the baby began to teethe, searching more for pain relief than for nourishment. Perhaps they were both just thoroughly exhausted, as both mother’s and child’s sleep schedules—blissful for a month or so after a chaotic start—now became wholly disrupted. Why is it just when we get used to things, they suddenly change?Five months in, the mother had persevered through sore nipples and engorgement and leaking throu...

91 likes 36 comments 36
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Perfection is Ignorance

Submitted to Contest #101

TW: gore, murder   In Carson City, the savory smell of Italian spices permeates the air as hungry customers scarf down their favorite meals in Georginio’s Italian Restaurant. Never one to be late, Alex arrives thirty minutes early, and is seated at his private balcony sixty feet high overlooking the beautiful city. He sits with his head held high and brushes his jet-black hair with his fingers; making sure that every strand is in place. Feeling satisfied, he reaches down, and triple checks his brand-new silk tie to make sure it’s p...

56 likes 31 comments 31
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Rayner Kelly's murder soulmate

Submitted to Contest #101

People are fools. This was a thought he'd held on to since he was a boy, and it'd held true for his entire life till that point.Even as Rayner drove on the roads of his favorite mountain range, he could only think back to the sorts who proved it to him. Those sorts of people he couldn’t even be angry at.The kinda idiots that got themselves lost in his favorite places.It wasn’t as if he cared for any particular demographic, he liked to hurt them more if they were pretty, more so if they were tame. But he was always one for oppo...

48 likes 12 comments 12
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Broken

Submitted to Contest #101

“Goodbye, Dad. I will come back on Saturday,” George’s eldest daughter, Alina said while holding her seven-year-old daughter’s small hand. They were going towards their car, parked a little far from George’s house. “Goodbye, grandpa,” Alina’s daughter said with her high-pitched, cute voice, waving her hand vigorously while her other hand was secured in her mom’s tight grip.“Goodbye, Alina, and my favorite grandchild. I will be preparing your favorite pizza next Saturday!” George shouted for his granddaughter to hear him from inside thei...

48 likes 19 comments 19
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Flower Stems

Submitted to Contest #101

The flowers’ stems broke as they fell from her hands. The delicate petals fell, colors kissing the soft lilting grasses of the plain. Another time, she might have stopped to grab them, brushing off the dirt and laughing about loose grips. But now, her darting eyes followed her newest friend, the girl with the sun-kissed cheeks and an eggplant-purple oversized dress. She would certainly grow into it with age, the girl’s parents said. The pair’s youth was a clouded lens, hiding the children from the worries of money. To the sharp-eyed adults, ...

48 likes 28 comments 28
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Big girl

Shortlisted for Contest #101 ⭐️

CW: body shaming, mental health, body image issues The mirror's size, shape, clarity; the lighting in the room, the color of the paint on the walls, the surfaces in the reflection, whatever was behind me; none of that mattered. Those things weren’t the problem. The problem was the fat girl in the mirror’s reflection. The problem was me.  My dad is Wayne, my brother is Wayne Jr., and my mother died of breast cancer when I was thirteen. We’ve always been the big family. Not like, “there’s a lot of people in that family” big, but like, “wo...

47 likes 13 comments 13
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Angels Around

Submitted to Contest #101

They say we still have heavenly skills for a while after we are born; unfortunately, they don’t last long. This is called “the tragedy of growing up”: as we get old, we lose our heavenly abilities since we tie up ourselves in this world and its physical life. Nevertheless, God’s deeds surround us, it is all up to us if we see His deeds as blessings or as curses… My parents used to consider themselves “modern” citizens. Among many other modern ways of thinking, God was an old fashion creature who was required to be extinct (humans ...

47 likes 17 comments 17
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Past regrets and Future promises

Submitted to Contest #101

The old saying goes that the eyes are the window to your soul then why did his eyes look so dead? Starting into a square medicine cabinet mirror he examined himself. Dead hollow eyes stared back at him reminding him of the man he once had been. Dark murky brown hair flopped messily in his face. His reflection was like a ghost hollow and pale. It had been three months sober and still, his body looked like shit beaten to hell by his years of abuse. The only starting feature where his blue-grey eyes that glared mockingly back at him, reminding ...

44 likes 0 comments 0
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P.T.S.

Submitted to Contest #101

Slowly, I pulled into the driveway of the house labeled 2269 in silver letters. The sound of waves crashing on the shore reached me the moment I was out of the car. A salty breeze blew my red and yellow cape every which way. I gathered all of my courage, then strutted up to the front door. With one last deep breath, I knocked three times.A young woman opened the door. Her piercing blue eyes widened as they scanned my outfit.“Uh, hi. Is there something I can help you with?”“Are you Avenlee Hursch?” There was no time to waste.“Yes. Who are-” B...

43 likes 280 comments 280
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The Finder

Submitted to Contest #101

“What do you see?” Carleton asks,“Shhh, give her a minute.” Comes Sandy’s harsh voice.My eyes are closed: in one hand, I have a thumbtack hovering over a map of the state. In the other, I have a picture of the girl. She's got long blonde hair, bright green eyes and a wide smile. Alexis is her name, and she’s been missing for five weeks.Then it comes in flashes. Welcome to Northbrook, an Ash tree, a street sign, six, eight, nine, a blue house. I’m taken to the basement, which has one long mirrored wall that reflects the room back onto itself....

43 likes 10 comments 10
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