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Weekly Contest #60
I used to not be scared of the dark. Back when Mamma was alive, and the birds sang in the trees. Now everything is just translucent shades of black, white, and gray around here. As I write, I am looking out on the dreary burgundy barn that used to glower a brilliant red. When Mamma was here, that is. My name is Angel Brooks, and I live in a city named Warren. Back in the '70s and '80s, this old town was a prime location to raise a family. There were plenty of jobs, admirable suburbs, and restaurants were bustling with hungry patrons.&n...
Weekly Contest #46
As a child, I used to conform to the idea I was meant for greater things. But as I look out at the vast ocean ahead, I'm not so sure. Maybe I was truly meant to be a speck of sand on the enormous beach of life. Ordinary and unnoticed. Everyone desires to be remembered by someone. That's why artists make paintings to hang in museums, and hopeless romantics singing songs about lost lovers. I knew that the only way I'd leave my footprint on this earth was by pen. Even if it was just for a hundred years or so, I knew I ha...
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