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Write about a character who is pathologically ambivalent, until something shakes them up.

Posted in Narrative on Nov 1, 2022

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✍️ 33 stories

Someone Has Died

Winner of Contest #155 🏆

TW: This story contains several depictions and descriptions of death. Someone has died. Of this, I am certain. I know it because I always know it. As I lie here alone in this big, empty bed and listen to the rain, I remember it as it returns to me, this feeling, this dread, skittering up and down my throat with a thousand little legs. It settles in my stomach like a great stone, a solid, sickening weight. It is rancid in its heaviness and unmistakable in its familiarity. Someone has died. I do not know who.I sit up, and I take a long breath,...

264 likes 110 comments 110
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The Student's Struggle

Shortlisted for Contest #155 ⭐️

Harvey Deenwaller really shit the bed when he tried out for the basketball team, because he forgot what we all knew: junior high school was bullshit. Trying leads to judging, judging leads to failing, and failing leads to being a loser. Of course we only heard about him, but it was all anyone talked about all day, and when we got into seventh period English we found out that Stacey McCain had seen it. She was always creeping on Carlos Messerschmidt – although she’d never admit it, except she was always admitting it – and Carlos was already o...

72 likes 86 comments 86
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Blueheart

Submitted to Contest #155

I gallop on the steep pathway that leads to Red Hearts Inc. The dewdrops on the rolling meadow down the slope cradle the newborn sunshine in them. On reaching the plateau sprouting the giant facility, I canter towards the entry gate. The blooms have fired up the trees close by and fill my breath with fragrance. Only after I punch in do I ease into a trot and make my way along the cold labyrinth of the facility. I manage to take my position in the assembly line before Mr. Eagleye begins his rounds. In the division where I work, the demand is ...

22 likes 12 comments 12
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Working Late

Submitted to Contest #155

There were three good things about working graveyard shift. One was the drunks who came in and paid cash for their late-night energy drinks and snacks and didn’t notice him short changing them. A dollar here and there, it all added up. It didn’t even feel like stealing.It was for his boy, after all. Jamie had school sports and school trips and the good kind of shoes no one would give him shit for. His son deserved it more than those who had enough they didn’t count it to the last dollar.It was five in the morning, the slow hour crawling...

21 likes 22 comments 22
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Things Used to be One Way, but Now They are Another

Submitted to Contest #155

The room seemed to be spinning. Jayger squeezed his eyes closed, then opened them again, struggling to focus his sleep-blurred vision. This was not the room he had been sleeping in. Sitting up, the 19-year-old brushed his blond hair out of his eyes and tried to figure out where he was. There were no windows. In the dim light of a hanging lantern, he saw pieces of leather, bits of metal, and bolts of thick cloth scattered around the room, overflowing from boxes, spilling off of tables, and piled on the floor.His eyes landed on a sin...

17 likes 22 comments 22
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The Museum of OCD

Submitted to Contest #155

I heard Viv’s familiar rat-a-tat on the door and got the hoop of keys out of my pocket to let her in. The new guy, Otto, was also there, slouched against the doorframe as though it were the only thing holding him up. Not for the first time, I wondered if they arrived together because they’d left from the same place together. None of my business though. My business is making sure the Museum of OCD opens on time. Obviously there would be people complaining if it didn’t. Viv traipsed in with a breezy “Good morning, Bob,” while Otto almost im...

15 likes 8 comments 8
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Nameless Knights and the Messiah of Fire

Submitted to Contest #155

TW: Swearing and violence. Stepping from the untouched Province of Schneeland into the ruins of Gennadius Province was stepping from day to night. The earth beneath their feet was black charcoal dust. Towering spires of mighty churches had been reduced to charred rubble. Stone had melted in the blast of dragon breath.             The silence of death screamed in their ears.             No wind blew to take away the stink ...

15 likes 22 comments 22
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Ghost Babies

Submitted to Contest #155

(Content warning: vasectomy/surgical references)I was minding my own—until everyone’s genitalia grew minds of their own. Scientists called it ‘Nocturnal Corporeal Dismemberment’. Whenever anyone became aroused during sleep, their reproductive organs went awol.When it all kicked off, I was spending most of my days on the island repairing small boats. As I caulked and sanded, the soothing waves sharpened my focus. There were rarely any distractions—until he came. The interruption was a besuited man trudging through the sand, bare footed, ...

14 likes 11 comments 11
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Hin SanYuan Ph.D.

Submitted to Contest #155

Hin SanYuan arrives early at his new office wearing the western-style suit jacket, slacks, and tie as is the usual attire for executives and professionals in Boise, Idaho. The room towers over the city on the fifteenth floor of the 8th and Main Building. Hin isn't used to working in tall buildings, even though his home country is littered with them, and stays back from the glass wall. He is encouraged that the furniture of two facing armchairs, his desk, chair, and leather upholstered lounge are all spaced over the lush carpet away from the ...

14 likes 14 comments 14
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THE VOICE

Submitted to Contest #155

I lived pretty much my whole life unsure about anything, never was good at making plans, never knew how to feel about people or things, and never liked being in charge. There has always been someone to make decisions for me; if not directly, then I just leave things to go with the flow, which most people call "destiny." That thought always scared but fascinated me because I could never figure out "what" or "who" was choosing every life path I had crossed for fifty years; even if I ever managed to unveil it, would I want to thank or blame the...

13 likes 3 comments 3
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The Long Way Home

Submitted to Contest #155

Riding on the bus sucked. Valerie kept waiting for some kind of nostalgia to kick in. For her brain to suddenly be hit with a fond memory of her youth. For her inner monologue to speak up and say, “Oh! Remember, Val, you used to ride the bus to your job at Clyde’s Drugstore when you were sixteen? Wasn’t that so much fun?” But of course, it didn’t happen. Instead, Val was just reminded that the bus sucked just as much now as it had back then. She shifted, trying to get comfortable. It had been fifteen years; hadn’t they upgraded the seats? It...

13 likes 3 comments 3
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Letter To My Therapist

Submitted to Contest #155

Dear Doc, I’m writing this like fiction because I don’t want to deal with it, not the real-real. I’m afraid, like I’ll break into pieces that’ll never come back together again. I don’t want to touch it close; it’s like suffocating skin, and fiction kind of helps me hide, helps me lie, like wine, to be honest. I really didn’t see the hallucinations and delusions that I describe in my story! Yes, I’m off the meds that you recommended, but I’m also off the booze I never mentioned. Today, Carrie, the cool lady who invited me to do the writing ...

13 likes 6 comments 6
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For All Her Hard Work

Submitted to Contest #155

Saphron crashed another tray of chickens into the oven of the Supermarket Deli, then turned to put the newly roasted ones into the heated-display-cabinet, for sale. Her coworker Meg manned the slicer, shaving the smokey fragranced ham for the display counter.            “Meg, how did you get on with your hours, now that you are on contract?” asked Saphron.            “I’m so happy. They gave me all the days and times I asked for and ...

12 likes 7 comments 7
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Pied Piper of Palm Springs

Submitted to Contest #155

Little known fact, the mayor of Hamelin reneged on his contract Meave Maddox aka, the Pied Piper when he rid the small village of a rat infestation.  The legend states he then turned his magical flute on the children and marched them out of town much to the chagrin of the town's folk.  Taking place in the thirteenth century in Lower Saxony, his action did not cause an Amber Alert as it would have today.  After the betrayal, Meave moved to Palm Springs.  The gossip manuscript written and published by hand at the Therpopulo...

11 likes 3 comments 3
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Northbound

Submitted to Contest #155

NORTHBOUND By Jer Long/mrmarch1@live.com “Hey!” I bellowed. The exasperated man on the step behind shoved me aside as he shot off the escalator, jolting me. My nose inches from the polished granite floor of 30th Street Station, someone grabbed my arm and set me right on my feet. “Are you okay?” The tall god with scintillating silver eyes adjusted my disheveled coat. “You sat across from me.” “Come,” he said and guided me away from the crowd of petulant pedestrians. From nearly every track, a steady flow of frustrated travelers filed into...

11 likes 1 comment 1
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