www.montereycountynow.com DECEMBER 25-31, 2025 MONTEREY COUNTY WEEKLY 17 Honorable Mentions By the Bay By Clair Cheer Her childlike love of whales was endearing. So was her wish to have her cremains share an intimacy with them. The day was perfect. Only a whisper of a breeze softly rippled the surface of the bay. The boat rocked gently in the calm bay waters. All aboard exchanged silent glances as I tipped the urn and let the grey ash spill softly onto the surface of the dark bay. The water tinted the ashes, light green at first, the color deepening and taking on a bluegreen then blue then violet hue before softly vanishing into the depths. The Beginning of The End By Keira Shoff The beginning of the end of the world…That’s what everyone calls it at least. A virus. No one knows where it came from, or how it spreads, but one day everything was normal, and now? The World will never be the same again. It starts slowly, nausea, cramping, sensitivity to light, headaches. Then ramps up, intense weight loss, blinding pain and then…nothing. Death. A day later your body will be no more. Gone. Eaten from the inside out, nothing left. The virus has taken everyone I love, and as I gag once more, I fear I will be next… Superhero-ish By Kady Ayoubi He hovered above the city, cape flapping, squinting as he adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose. A distant meow lit a spark of purpose in his chest. “Time to finally shine.” He soared toward a trembling tree, a little too hasty. His glasses slipped, tumbling to the ground. All became a blur. He landed cautiously, careful to repeat last week’s face-plant. To his despair, the tree was empty. The cat? Long gone. A neighbor peeked out. “Oh…you’re here.” He straightened his cape and floated skyward, letting the clouds swallow him whole. After the Party By Kay Mehren When I regained consciousness, I was under a grand piano, naked, on one edge of a large, empty ballroom, sunlight pouring in. Finding a tablecloth, I fashioned a sarong, and sought answers to the obvious questions. Two cleaning ladies entered, stopped briefly, then began collecting glasses, ashtrays, and other detritus. I asked where I was, but they smiled and shrugged. Likely, little or no English. Doors to other rooms seemed locked. I found a newspaper, but I didn’t recognize its alphabet. Answers will turn up. Someone else will be here or arrive. Meanwhile to the bathroom and then the kitchen. Our First Trauma By Peter Mehren Birth: the first trauma! Nine months floating in warm liquid, eyes closed, food through a tummy tube. And then Splash! Thud! Welcome! Bright lights, the air so different through nasal passage to lungs, hands rubbing us all over, sounds, and then this large, tasty object pushed into our mouths. No wonder most of us are perpetually suspicious about what the next surprise will be. Limits By Andrew Bauer One-hundred-one words?! A mercy for readers (and judges), but torture for prolix proferrers of prose like me... At 21, already...The light on my desk has become an interrogation lamp (33)...Each bead of sweat, a word (40)... The oven timer’s now a pressure cooker (48)...Each tick = one less letter (54)...Whiteout offers way out (59); I decline…“There’s no way out of this,” meows Mittens (cat) at feet (73)... Moonlight cracks blinds. Writes 101 specks of dust into momentary existence. Mittens leaps up onto keyboard. It seems he’ll get the last word, as he always does: \\[p’--)k,,,,iuihjbnd1Q! The Auction By Tara Mann The auctioneer holds up a faded red Bic lighter, and the entire room gasps. The electric lighting flickers ominously, and at 1:30pm, only darkness spills through the windows. The auctioneer suppresses a shiver—even five years since light became a coveted resource like food or water, she isn’t used to the dark. She recognizes various groups— street kids who’ll try to steal the lighter, parents whose meager bank accounts are useless, and the wealthy who’ll ultimately win each bid. The auctioneer shifts behind the bulletproof glass. “Fully functional lighter, only ever used twice. Bidding starts at 1 million dollars.” The Woman in the Water By Shaye Paluck The port-side cleat was tenderizing my abdomen. I gripped the plastic cap, my muscles strained as I pulled our bow closer to the dock. In the green waters below, wavering sunbeams lit a pale woman’s face, eyelids casually closed and jaw clenched. Her loose white shirt and dark hair danced, No Context Here are some of our favorite lines from stories that did not make it to print. Words can have dire consequences, especially here. She restrained herself from shouting “Ta-da!” in anticipation of responses that never came to her young breasts. His wife believed him, but his dog did not. Apparently she had walked into a knife several times. I’m a bit of a sinner. The hard to breathe remorse came heavy, sooty, and salty. “I so miss you, too, mom, but you’re dead. Makes the dinner invitations difficult.” Every scientist lies collapsed on the floor, skin glistening with that same impossible rainbow effect. “Ow!” Samantha cried. “Shit!” Kevin shouted back. continued next page
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