Qualified Entry, Second pixelhose Writing Competition. Fiction Category.
By Elizabeth Cunnane
Joseph’s uncle ran a glass-blowing studio and Joseph had spent most of his weekends for the past year or so in there watching the team of men working. Saturdays they were open to the public and sometimes there were a lot of people so he’d have press himself into the small gaps in the crowd in order to see what was going on. He liked the heat, and the smell of smouldering newspaper. Continue Reading
Qualified Entry, Second pixelhose Writing Competition. Fiction Category.
By Alex Kario
“This belonged to your father. He would have wanted you to have it.” Without any further explanation, I was handed a tiny globe supported by a rusty iron frame. Faded hues of blue, red, and yellow graced its handsome surface. Tiny inscriptions announced the names of its distorted continents and misconstrued oceans in a language completely alien to me. I placed it on a shelf where it stood out like a somber shadow among my vibrant, happy playthings. It became an object of mystery and wonder that haunted my childhood. Continue Reading
Qualified Entry, Second pixelhose Writing Competition. Fiction Category.
By Brent A. Middleton
Chester’s mom gave him one final, tight embrace before setting him down and letting him embark on his first great adventure out into the world. Chester smiled, gave her a peck on the cheek, and turned to face the destiny that lay before him in this strange new land. Continue Reading
Qualified Entry, Second pixelhose Writing Competition. Fiction Category.
By Ray Margulies
Lanny Kalish was dead. He had died in an automobile accident near Detroit. A doctor at the Michigan hospital signed the certificate, took the usable organs as per instructions on Lenny’s driver’s license and sent the remains to Toronto. Continue Reading
Qualified Entry, Second pixelhose Writing Competition. Fiction Category.
By Eugene Chun
People who romanticize Van Gogh –like Madness mostly likely have never met him. He’s not the easiest guy to get along with. And he comes out of the blue, when you least expect him to. Most sophisticated aficionados praise the insanity…the intensity…the originality…that’s because they never met Madness…if they did they would think twice about adoring him. I never adored him because I know what he’s really like. Continue Reading
Qualified Entry, Second pixelhose Writing Competition. Nonfiction Category.
By Tina de Lemos
Hi, my name is Tina. I am a lost soul. My words don’t count. My screams don’t speak even in the stillest and most silencing moments of the night. My dreams and desires have been pushed over a cliff. And yet I travel. No matter how weary or tired I am, I travel. Continue Reading
Qualified Entry, Second pixelhose Writing Competition. Fiction Category.
By Kevin Fitch
The bar was a shit hole, dark and dingy, on the worst side of town, my kind of place. I took a seat near the end of the bar; a twenty foot long, six inch thick slab of hardwood, faded and scarred from years of abuse. I was close to the door, as far from anyone else as I could get. I threw twenty bucks on the bar and ordered two fingers of Jack. To call it a dive bar would be kind, or cruel if you happened to own a dive bar. I guess it all depended on your perspective, whether you were a glass is half-full or half-empty kind of guy. No one in this place could ever be described as the half-full type. Continue Reading
Qualified Entry, Second pixelhose Writing Competition. Fiction Category.
There are reasons you don’t talk about it. Most of them are stupid, but you don’t talk about it anyway. Mostly because it feels like little-kid bragging while not really having anything to back the bragging up. You know how it is. Maybe you don’t talk about it because no one cares. Or because of the searching way people look at you. You used to talk about it a lot, but now you’ve stopped. Just live it, that’s what you tell yourself. Walk the talk. Continue Reading
Qualified Entry, Second pixelhose Writing Competition. Fiction Category.
By Douglas Scadding
The rain was coming down in torrents now. It was November; the leaves were all but gone from the trees. David awoke in his alley. The box he was sleeping under had finally soaked through.
“Get up. I have grand plans for us today.” Continue Reading
Qualified Entry, Second pixelhose Writing Competition. Fiction Category.
By Sarah Wallenfang
“Hurry up, Earl, the church is filling up fast,” Ruth huffed at her henpecked husband.
“The priest doesn’t start talkin’ until one last time I checked. We have plenty of time.”
“But you know the whole town’s going to turn out for this. It’s their little Annie. I don’t want to be stuck standing in the back.” Continue Reading
