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Write about a character who is trying to leave something or someone behind — only to realize they carry it with them.

Posted in Sad on Nov 4, 2022

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✍️ 72 stories

Kaleidoscope

Shortlisted for Contest #171 ⭐️

You never asked for this much insight.But you can’t have both innocence and experience. Experience. A charming euphemism for pain and suffering. Either one will drive out innocence altogether. Isn’t that what you’re really after—a return to Eden? Minus the snake. Minus the apple. Minus Adam, for that matter. However, if you had stayed in an unspoiled world, you would have learned nothing. You would have felt nothing. You would have seen nothing. Better to have loved and lost—etcetera etcetera. Now let’s talk about your ba...

75 likes 55 comments 55
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The Rules of Arithmetic

Shortlisted for Contest #171 ⭐️

Sometimes you just have to leave the dead bodies behind and move on. That’s the logical thing to do. The smart thing to do. So we’re in another city. San Antonio. There is always a need for math professors at universities. For some reason. Probably the pay. And it isn’t a glamorous profession. The rules of math are nice, though. You get a sense that something is dependable in math. Solid. The rules of how numbers work won’t leave you. People leave. People you love. ************** Dr. Phillip Morgan looked around the modest apartment and sig...

47 likes 48 comments 48
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Our Scorched Earth

Submitted to Contest #171

As the dark sky vignettes with bleeding reds and pinks, the comfort of the cool night passes and the scorching sun rears its ugly head once again. Though it’s been what feels like an age since I’ve felt its heat a phantom burn still peels away at my mind each new day. Seven-hundred and eighty-two days since any sign of life, seven-hundred and eighty-two days since the birds fell from the sky, the oceans boiled alive, and man fell to his knees. Counting the days had kept me sane for over two years now but each day it takes longer to recall ho...

44 likes 19 comments 19
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Seven Books I'll Never Read

Submitted to Contest #171

There were seven books on the nightstand. We had packed up the rest of the bedroom. In the other room, I could hear my sister taping up the last of the cardboard boxes that would contain what we wanted to keep from our mother’s house. The house that we grew up in. The previous morning had featured a yard sale. We parted with the things that held no sentiment for us. This was more difficult than we thought it would be, because we were not raised to be emotional. Our mother grew up in a rural part of Pennsylvania. We never saw her cry or bec...

39 likes 30 comments 30
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Partisan Hysteria

Shortlisted for Contest #171 ⭐️

TW: Contains swearing, gory violence and trauma. When the war ended, I thought I would feel free, liberated. I didn’t. Oh, I admit, I felt a fleeting joy as we watched the cursed Nazis turn tail and flee from Belgrade. When women and children wept with joy to see their men return home. But these sparks of happiness soon faded into the empty void inside of me. Even my parents’ shouts of pure delight at seeing me alive did not warm my heart for long. When Marshall Tito spoke to us among the ruins and rubble of Republic Square, proclaiming ...

33 likes 26 comments 26
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Arthas Gets Blown Away

Submitted to Contest #171

Mark Brigg fiddled with the neon sapphire sleeve of his prison jumpsuit. “Is there any way to get an outfit that doesn’t glow in the dark?”             “It brings out the blue in your eyes,” said Detective Arthas Jacques in his Martian capital Arab-French sounding accent. Cheap prison soap scent filled the air.             “My room is tiny. Shouldn’t I be with other prisoners? So I don’t go crazy?” Mark’s voice had the cont...

31 likes 33 comments 33
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A Lovers' Dance

Submitted to Contest #171

Foley Gaspers has had enough. Enough of imagined lies. Enough of unsettling suspicions. His girlfriend, Amanda Yi, is late coming home again. She works twelve-hour shifts as a recreation therapist at a veteran’s hospital and her commute to and from the facility consumes an additional two hours of each day. Foley suspects Amanda is having affairs, the most impure of these being a triagonal liaison involving her cousin, Tamara, and her cousin’s infidel husband, Shayne, a district attorney for the city of Los Angeles wh...

24 likes 24 comments 24
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Footsteps in the Snow

Submitted to Contest #171

Footsteps in the SnowIt snowed that day. I remember walking in footsteps made by others while my thoughts still followed her away, for that was the last time I saw her. I remember hair mingled with snow, and a smile that wasn’t a smile. Every time it snows I remember walking in those footsteps.Regret is a fearsome adversary. How is it possible that one cannot outlive a mistake, bury it, escape it if even for a day? Would that God had instead taken an eye or a limb or trimmed a few years off my life. Banished from feelings of happiness, all j...

21 likes 16 comments 16
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The Sandwich Guy

Submitted to Contest #171

Angela jolted upright, gasping for air: “Ahhh!”Next to her, her boyfriend sat peacefully, propped up with several pillows, his coffee in one hand, his book in the other. “Was it the sandwich guy again?”Still catching her breath, Angela nodded, putting a hand on her forehead to settle herself. “Yeah.”“Where were you this time?”A hand found her chest, felt her racing heart. “The pool. He was there at the edge of the pool when I surfaced.”“Hmmm, that’s new. Did he bring you a sandwich at least?" Jake, who’d hardly lifted his eyes off his book, ...

20 likes 18 comments 18
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The Ash-Spreading of Jaz

Submitted to Contest #171

From the top of the mountain, the valley below was stunning. Everything was painted fire colors, the peak of autumn arriving as predicted in the second week of October. Stella felt a lump in her throat—how appropriate that they were here on Jaz’s birthday. Stella could still hear her throaty voice, every year, reminding them that the pinnacle of fall color always fell near her birthday.Ash-spreading was a strange custom, Stella thought, glancing down at her portion of Jaz, nestled in plastic inside a tiny gift bag, purple of course. The gift...

20 likes 10 comments 10
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The Black Dogs Among Us

Submitted to Contest #171

The Black Dogs Among Us By - July St. John October 7, 1829 Gloucester Police Department 10 Waters Way Gloucester, England Attn: Det. Duncansone Detective, Your presence is urgently needed. There have been two murders on Friar Isle. One, that of my father, I witnessed three days prior to this letter. The other, my sister, a little over seven years ago, for which I am responsible. I was but a boy then and though I had never harbored ill will or a harsh word toward my sister, she fell at my hand. I would rather die in a prison cell ...

19 likes 4 comments 4
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A Ballad for Buck Dumpster

Submitted to Contest #171

TW: This story contains themes of grief, death, and suicide in addition to some adult language. My brother Archie and I spent exactly four summers at Camp Gopher before it closed. And I guess it shouldn’t have surprised me when it did, not really. After all, even back then, before the recession, the place stayed open only for the grace of God (and the handiwork of a few dozen do-gooders and funders). They were the kind of people who claimed to want kids like us, with no other options, to have some place to go when school wasn’t in-session.Bu...

18 likes 7 comments 7
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Whatever You Do, Do Quickly

Submitted to Contest #171

Spotlights glared down, and a huge fan spun sluggishly on the ceiling. As two velociraptors fought around and around the fenced enclosure on the warehouse floor, spectators booed and cheered, though it was difficult to tell the calls apart. Cuss words were embedded in every shout. Sorely in need of money, but banishing the thought from his mind, Xavier stood silent amid the clamor, arms folded. For the first time since he’d come here, he wasn’t watching the behavior of the animals. He was looking at everything else.The fight ended, and ...

17 likes 10 comments 10
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Lotus

Submitted to Contest #171

I see him – my father. I see him through badly drawn smiling faces and matchstick people on a canvas of condensation. I watch him poke and prod his lips until he hits the target with what he thinks is his second last cigarette. I watch him follow the young couple up the steps and through the doors of the Pilot's Diner. I watch him idle by the same door, only now it's closed, scratching his brain, wondering what to do next. Finally, I raise my hand and reluctantly summon him while I lower my head and lean into the menu. With any luck, the ol'...

17 likes 10 comments 10
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Left behind

Submitted to Contest #171

‘I never thought we’d get here, you know.’ He looks straight ahead as he says it, his bright blue eyes shining with tears, though he’d never admit it if I called him on it.      ‘Me neither.’ I lean my head on his shoulder, the only manly part of a body otherwise stuck in skinny adolescence. ‘God, I feel so grown up. A whole two years married! Some couples don’t last that long, you know, Sam. It takes real work. I mean, if you knew the amount of self control it’s taken for me to hold back the urge to kill you all this tim...

14 likes 4 comments 4
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