100-WORD CONTEST First Place
Benediction
By Kathleen Levitt
MY SISTERS AND I PUSHED A TAPE into the tape drive and music came on and the car started driving, we were in it. The park appeared though darkness was predominant. There were terrible things, but not here. There were people who knew, but not here. There were people who’d love us, not here, and those that would couldn’t. The trunk was filled with summer’s fireworks. We kept the battery on, the music shook the pavement. My sister danced like her soul had come back. My sister threw pops until color lit her feet. My sister, my sister, my sister.
Kathleen Levitt is a writer living in Brooklyn, New York. Her work has previously appeared in Fiction Southeast, Entropy, and 34th Parallel.
FALL SHORT STORY CONTEST First Place
The Refrigerator Test
By Sarah Harris Wallman
WALTER TOOK HIS BATMAN CUP TO THE kitchen because maybe there was still apple juice. Ignorant of spirits, he had inaccurately deduced what Bruce Wayne sipped from crystal tumblers. In the kitchen, the juice gallon sat on the linoleum next to the mustard, the apple butter, and a half-dozen mostly empty jam jars. His mother was obscured by the open door of the fridge, but her arm emerged to set down the Worcestershire sauce