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CONTEST ENDED – Thank you for submitting your stories!

Write an open-ended story in which your character’s fate is uncertain.

Posted in Short Story on Feb 7, 2025

Submissions are closed

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✍️ 95 stories

“Death on Orange Shag” by Lari Levey

Submitted to Contest #289

August 24th 1983 Miami Herald:            A Metro-Dade policeman was in critical but stable condition late Friday, recovering from a bullet wound inflicted by his estranged wife after discovering him at his Southwest Dade trailer park with another woman, police said. He was the only one who didn't fire a gun out of all the people in his trailer. Imagine that. The policeman, the good guy, didn't get a shot off.Good guy, my ass. As the other woman, I was privy to what went on that ni...

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“Like a Curtain ” by Jenny Tedesco

Submitted to Contest #289

[Suggested sexual abuse, suggested physical abuse and violence] The sunlight washed gently over the curtains as they billowed in the wind. It almost looked as if they were alive, and with each breath of air they begged for attention. My eyes were fixated, watching each movement. However, I was not held in fascination; no, I knew this curtain’s movement to be something ordinary– I was no fool. But still, it was beautiful. Like how each year it snows but still somehow every time you look out at the sparkling, white, quiet… I feel astounded ea...

6 comments 6
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“Borrowed Lives” by JS. Señor

Submitted to Contest #289

She stood in a dimly lit room. The flickering candlelight cast eerie shadows on the walls. Before her lay an assortment of exotic plants, their vibrant hues and unusual shapes, unlike anything in a typical garden. Her hands moved with an almost mechanical precision, grinding the leaves and petals into a fine powder. The pestle's rhythmic motion echoed in the silence. She poured the powder into a small vial, then added a few drops of an amber-hued liquid. Slowly, the mixture swirled, thickening into a dark, viscous substance.She now stood out...

3 comments 3
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“Breathless” by Cyndi Wilson (Whatif)

Submitted to Contest #289

"She’s drowning!” I didn’t see her go under the surface of the water. I wasn’t paying attention. I just knew that a minute ago, she was there, and now all I could see were the rippling circles expanding out from where she had been last. I watched for her to resurface, but she didn’t. I waited a little longer. The dark water returned to its motionless calm. Nothing. Too much time had gone by. I looked around for help, but who could I ask? Two important people in their white lab coats were comparing notes with each other. Grabbing one person’s...

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“The one you'd least expect” by Morgan Cozze

Submitted to Contest #289

I woke from my nap; I guess I fell asleep at my desk again. I feel groggy, and although they feel heavy, I begin to open my eyes. But I can’t do it; it’s almost like they are stuck shut. I try again, putting in as much strength as I can provide to open my eyes. I lift my hands to my face in hopes of just holding my eyelids open when I realize, my eyes have been opened, there just was nothing in front of me to see. I was trapped. Nothing feels familiar while the black abyss surrounds me. Using my remaining senses, the smell of something that ...

2 comments 2
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“Park” by Michael Jefferson

Submitted to Contest #289

The stranger on the bench opens his eyes. A dark-haired little girl stands over him. “You okay, mister?” The stranger sits up, noticing a sign that says, “Welcome to Crystal Cove Park.” At the end of the lush park is a large body of water. Waves caress the sand, soothing his anxiety. A warm breeze wafts against his face. But he’s unsure if he’s looking at the Atlantic or the Pacific Ocean. “…Yeah, I’m fine.” The diminutive girl’s blue eyes sparkle, and she breaks out in a dimpled smile. “My name’s Lorna. What’s yours?” The stranger dwells on...

3 comments 3
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“Dear Innocent Reader” by Anna K

Submitted to Contest #289

Dear Innocent Reader, I hope this message finds you at a moment of peace, because I have a story that you are going to want to hear. My first encounter with the Bridget Bleu was before the enchanting hotel was even built, and I have only visited 5 times since then. It was back in 1913 when there was no vaccine for influenza and people were lost left and right to the disease that has kept me busy for years. Back when I was ignorant of the wonders of our existence. But tonight was different. I had been called to that house to collect the...

1 comment 1
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“Bad Habits” by Gabriel Savage

Submitted to Contest #289

I loved her like a bad habit—intoxicating, destructive, impossible to quit. And like all bad habits, she tasted best at 2 a.m., wrapped in smoke, whiskey, and the kind of familiar regret that lingers longer than it should. I swallowed hard, but all I could taste was the mistakes I already knew I’d make again. The bed was empty—of course it was. She never stayed. She wasn’t the type, and I wasn’t the guy you stayed for. Wasted. I reached for my cigarettes. Lit one. Took a drag. The sun was bleeding through the faded blinds, painting the room ...

1 comment 1
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“AMARA” by Khay Tiana

Submitted to Contest #289

CW: Contains themes of death and psychological distressIt was the night of the 6th of October when I brought home the paints and canvases. Amara had been reading in the sitting room with that damn cat of hers—Toffee. He was a demon to me, but to her, the perfect little angel.I remember her getting up, her voice sharp, piercing the stillness of the house.“Where did these come from? How did you afford all this? Why so many?”I didn’t lie. Not completely. The paints and canvases did come from Gunner’s Art Supply Store, and I told her I got a lit...

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“Alannah” by Melissa Johnson

Submitted to Contest #289

Melissa Johnson Prompt: Write An Open-Ended Story In Which Your Character’s Fate Is Uncertain.                                                 Alannah  Alannah stood in her enclosure, folding a white robe loosely around her body which fell to the sandals on her feet. The matching wool b...

11 comments 11
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“Mid Life” by Erica Ottenberg

Submitted to Contest #289

Mid Life We are the men.  We are high-functioning; we are upwardly mobile. Our jobs are good, our wives are pretty. Our apartments increase in price, square footage, and number of bedrooms every five to seven years. Promotions came at regular intervals until we plateaued as VPs or partners, managing directors or COOs. Very respectable. Our pretty wives appreciate the bacon we bring home. They pay someone to cook it and clean up after it, and our year-end bonuses justify these costs.  We are such good dads. Girl Dads, Little Leag...

2 comments 2
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“Like a Needle Stuck in the Groove” by P.E. Prideaux

Submitted to Contest #289

“I don’t think that’s any of your business.” Helena Hiscock heard the hostility in her own voice and immediately wished she could suck the saucy retort from the ether and back into her mouth. “No offense,” she added flatly, only daring to give her father half a glance. Charlie, her father, shifted uncomfortably, sadly in his seat. His fingers curled and uncurled around the steering wheel. They didn’t know how to talk to one another. The only reason Helena or Charlie Hiscock knew anything in regards to what was happening in the life of the ot...

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“Where The Fish Go To Die” by Ana Fiedler

Submitted to Contest #289

“Where do Fish go to die?” I’ve asked my mother too many times. I ask her a lot of things too many times.  Like, “Will you check under my bed?” Or, “What if there’s something in my closet?”  Sometimes, it’s hard to tell how many is too many. I can tell this time is too many because she doesn’t answer me. Preferring instead to stare down into her tea, tapping her fingers against the cup.  It’s a constant tap-tap-tap.  I don’t think she knows where they go to die. Sometimes, she’ll attempt an answer and tell me, “They go to...

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“The Woods” by Elaine March

Submitted to Contest #289

“Michael?” My booted feet crunch over dry twigs and fallen leaves as I take short and deliberate steps, reluctant to leave the safe haven of our campsite.  I need to stay put. Wait. That’s what the survival guides tell you to do when you’re lost.  But I’m not the one that’s lost.  I swallow, conscious of the panicked fluttering of my heart. You don’t know if he’s lost either, I remind myself. But why else would he be gone so long? He said he needed to take a leak ten minutes ago. Ten minutes with nothing but the oppressive sil...

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“ADDICTION AND THE RABBIT HOLE” by Carolyn Petersen

Submitted to Contest #289

He called in one of his manic states. This was not unusual, and I sat back in a comfortable chair and prepared to listen for probably the hundredth time. Mind you this was years of these phone calls and the only difference is on my part. I am no longer shocked or afraid of what he might do. I'm just sorry his life turned out this way, a constant roller coaster of emotions. The booze didn't help nor did stopping his antipsychotic medication. This episode I blamed on Christmas. I mean don't you always have to blame someone or something for you...

1 comment 1
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Contest #289

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