The Contradictite

[Author's Note: This is a story I wrote a long time ago. It was a collaboration between me and another author by the name of Brian Jackson. Unfortunately, I've lost contact with Brian. I do hope he doesn't mind my posting my version of the story here.]     The envelope sat at his table. He tried not to stare at it while he ate his dinner. He told himself, "Just three more bites of the Salisbury steak, and you can open it. Just two more. One more bite." With gravy still dripping from his chin, he cleared his dishes to the sink and scrubbed his hands. Drying them with the utmost care, he picked up the envelope and carried it to his couch. Plopping down on the cushions, he ran his finger through the glue-sealed lip of the envelope. A soft-news program played on the television in front of him, but his attention fell instead on the stack of glossy cards resting in his hands.     He’d had a falling out with the folks at Photo Village, and hoped that this recent s...

[Author's Note: For this story, we were split up into teams. We had to come up with a concept: A man or a woman is burning down a house for some reason other than to collect insurance money. Tell that story. My team decided that she'd burn down the house because it was haunted, but not by a ghost, exactly. What follows is my part of the assignment.] There were a million things on her mind as she drifted into sleep. Her manager scheduled a meeting with her in the morning and she was trying to think of what to say before she let herself fully enrobe herself in slumber. “Why did you want to work for us?” she imagined being asked. Her mind flew to Hugh. She wondered what would have, could have happened from that relationship. She felt a tinge of regret, like the aftertaste of a lemon, lingering in the back of her mind as she remembered all the happy times they had spent together, before the move. Yet much like a leaf drifting in the wind, she was rustled from her peace by a sha...