Challenge
The Last Bite
Dad brought home extra meat and said it was cheap. It tasted fine, just sweeter than usual. A week later, missing posters went up. Last night, I found a fingernail in my steak. I heard footsteps upstairs, and he whispered, “Did you finish everything on your plate?”
By Tim Carmichael15 minutes ago in Writers
Prodigal Daughter
Muscles tensed. Stomach clenched. An involuntary regurgitation sweetened and seared her mouth. Watery eyes blinked. She knocked, too softly. She could run. The intercom hissed. Pounding blood drowned the words. The door swung open. For the first time in years, she breathed the aroma of mother's cooking.
By Rebekah Conardabout 13 hours ago in Writers
To My Beloved Grandson
Grandson: I’m writing this to you now, even though you are so young you’re unable to read or comprehend it, because I feel we are at the edge of a great precipice morally and idealistically and practically. I publish this letter in its entirety in the present, the year 2026, when you are but a scant few months old. A copy will reside with your parents to hold in trust for you, that you may have a physical reminder of me and my thoughts and my love for you even after I’m gone. I recognize it as a quaint old custom, the passing along of an old fashioned letter written on paper, by hand, in a form of script that you may look at and never actually comprehend. To you, when you are finally presented this artifact, it may be as alien a form of communication as I found Sumerian cuneiform, or Egyptian hieroglyphics, or Incan knot language. I’m hoping your mother and father school you a bit in the art of what is known as cursive writing in the here and now, even if the educational system abandons the practice. I believe it is important to be able to write and especially to read cursive, and the most important founding documents of our nation were written in that script. I believe it is vitally necessary to be able to read those primary sources in their original form, rather than rely on an unknown human or machine mind’s translation.
By David Muñozabout 20 hours ago in Writers
Wouldn't it Be Nice
Long ago, the Hebrews became tired of eating manna. Not that Heaven-made bread wasn't delicious, but human palates crave variety. I, for one, would be delighted to see a challenge that isn't fiction or poetry. Otherwise, community categories become unseen/under-appreciated/ and frankly, put out to pasture.
By Shirley Belk2 days ago in Writers
Take Off Your Prose!. Content Warning.
Welcome to the Temple of the Profane. I know, right? Whodathunk I’d ever encourage end rhyme? If it’s offensive, I’m okay with it. Grab a pint of Guinness or Jameson’s and don’t tell me “dirty limerick” is redundant. I’m well aware that if it isn’t dirty, it’s not a true limerick. But some people try to ruin a good time with some puritan Pollyanna bullshit every chance they get. I’ve read some clean limericks, and there’s something about them that’s more wrong than an olive in a Bloody Mary or a stalk of celery in a fucking martini. If I can figure out how, I’ll fine anyone who tries to sneak a clean limerick in here, and I’ll press criminal charges if sentimentality enters the equation. It has no place outside of Hallmark cards and movies, and we’re not dumbing down this room.
By Harper Lewis3 days ago in Writers
