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Submitted to Contest #305
In the green-bellied dusk of that August evening, the world tilted ever so slightly, like a chandelier unhooked from god’s ceiling. We were sitting cross-legged on the attic carpet, threadbare and freckled with ash stains. The fan above us groaned like an old man remembering the war. Dust waltzed in the air with such joyless elegance I thought, briefly, that it looked like us. He looked between us once more and said, “it’s either her or me…” Oh, but the way he said it. Not in the cracked timbre of desperation, no, he said it like someone ord...
Submitted to Contest #304
Night arrived on silent paws, slipping through the eaves and keyholes as the last orange glow bled out of the sky. In its cool embrace, he stirred at last, a faint spark kindling where the long day had left only dampened ash. Under sunlight he had felt hollow, bleached of thought and substance; but now, as darkness pooled in the corners of the room, something within him unfolded. Each breath he drew tasted of ink and midnight, bitter and electric on his tongue. The quiet hours beckoned with promises only night could keep. He sat at his desk ...
Once, a boy swallowed a clock because he thought time would digest more gently if it ticked inside him. The minutes bit at his ribs like starved dogs. At night, he could hear the hour hand dragging itself across his spine, inch by inch, a slow crucifixion of chronology. He had been told once- by a woman with her eyes sewn shut with red thread- that the body was an hourglass, and the soul the sand. As appealing as that sounded, the hourglass was archaic. For a modern boy with many modern luxuries, a digital clock would have made the most sens...
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