December Writing Challenge: Honorable Mentions — Andreea Sandu, Aleksandra Markovic, Rida Ahmed, and Ashley
These 100-word stories were selected as Honorable Mentions. Those who completed this challenge are now encouraged to share their stories in the comments section of the "December Writing Challenge."
I opened my eyes and saw them all. All the stars were above me. I raised my hands in the cold air. I tried to get them all, just for me. To leave them lying near my heart or maybe to hide them inside my soul, but I realised that stars are more cunning than human beings, and they would try to steal the burning love I have for them and leave me in pieces. But I don’t allow them to do this again. Why? Because one day I will be free, and they will be just some falling stars.
The Demanding Melancholy
The wind outside ferociously knocks against my window, as if trying to replicate the chaotic beats of my heart– a rhythm that I am tortured with each time that I think of you and of the sacrosanct memories that we share. I find refuge in the solitude of my room from all those who foolishly attempt to bestow the belief that time heals all wounds upon me, and that soon, you, my most burning wound of all, will be forgotten– but I doubt that this is true. No, I think that you just learn how to live with the sadness.
To Be Invisible
I was warned not to be a whisper
though I never really cared
My teacher once said
‘See don’t trust a person who wants to be invisible’
‘No one becomes unseeable to do good things’
I scoffed, shuffled, and I spoke no words.
(You see, Mr. A, the act of becoming
is more than what you can do
people don’t see what they don’t want to
the paranoid feeling of a spider in that corner
Surely, Mr. A, you understand
I don’t want to be seen
Saved from the paranoid feeling that people feel
The word echoed in his cranium.
20 years tore her from him.
His only child.
It was time.
He held the phone.
“Hello, may I speak with Susan Larking?”
There was a pause.
“She moved, years ago,”
“Do you have her current number?”
“I’m afraid not. Merry Christmas!”
His shaking skeletal hand put down the phone.
Silence was deafening.
Thoughts melting away.
And at the clock’s word, there was a knock on the door.
Outside was a woman the age of 40. Dark hair, dark eyes.
Just like her father’s.