Break From Reality. Daily.
This story is by Retta Bodhaine and was part of our 2018 Fall Writing Contest. You can find all the writing contest stories here. Subject 17 – Day 91: Skin glows in candle light. It absorbs and then reflects the dancing flames, like deftly hammered bronze in need of polishing. I softly scrub away another…
This story is by Retta Bodhaine and was part of our 2017 Summer Writing Contest. You can find all the Summer Writing Contest stories here. Red coats the back of my eyelids as I hide my burning eyes from the harsh florescent lights and reflective white surfaces of the emergency exam room. Footsteps, rubber wheels…
This story is by Retta Bodhaine and was part of our 2017 Spring Writing Contest. You can find all the Spring Writing Contest stories here. I hear the guttural roar from thirty feet away and my eyelids snap open. The answering roar, from just as close, has my fists clenching as if they can hold…
Yellow, diffused street light filtered through floating dust motes as the dirty, pamphlet covered bar door swung open. A glimpse of a brown leather bomber jacket, worn jeans, and a grey cabbie hat appeared in the flash of light, but they were lost to the darkness when the door shut again. The man’s work boots announced his approach as the sticky bar floor tried to trap their soles.
He walked the full length of the bar and took the last seat, in the darkest corner. The red backlights of the mirrored liquor shelves and the tea lights vainly trying to shine through dusty, rust-colored votives did not reach him there. The sagging bartender set a chilled bottle of Macallan and a whiskey glass in front of the man. They were the only spotless items in the bar.
This story is by Retta Bodhaine and was part of our 2016 Winter Writing Contest. You can find all the Winter Writing Contest stories here. Yellow, diffused street light filtered through floating dust motes as the dirty, pamphlet covered bar door swung open. A glimpse of a brown leather bomber jacket, worn jeans, and a…
by Retta Bodhaine She lifted her right hand in front of her face and watched as the thick red droplets ran down her fingers and fell off the tips of her chipped sparkly gold nails. She watched last six distinct beads drip then let her hand fall back to her side. The dull slap as it…
