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Weekly Contest #365
Adam smiled as he swirled his wine, hundreds of conversations echoing up to his place above them all. Looking across his people, his kingdom, two hundred years of building and sacrifice. Whispers echoed amongst the crowd, mostly traded among the newer kindred.“One of the others said it slew an elder.”“Have you heard of the Walking Chains?”“I hear that thing is the reason for this party.”Watching them, reading their lips, Adam felt a shiver crawl up his spine. He forced his eyes away and stopped listening, even as a few of the elders—his own ...
Weekly Contest #353
Gruzb hefted the body of an adventurer onto the ship, the black water glistening under the light of the bioluminescent mushrooms. He looked at the rest of his kin, all collecting the dead surface dwellers and loading them onto the ship. All in preparation for the Big Splash. It should be most pleased. Gruzb climbed aboard, helping push the boat away from the rock shore, and Gruzb tasted something metallic, which slightly burned his throat. The sound of feet pattering along, Gruzb’s head lifted, seeing little Degzb running. “RUN!” Degzb shout...
Truk walked in his kin's chain, their clawed feet dragging through the snow. Each staying close to the other for warmth. Some touched the backs of those before them, as they moved in a line. The Dungeon had been this way since before even the elders. His forefather’s father spoke of a time when fresh soil filled the lands. The warmth had fled, the winds howled, the waters froze; now snow and ice dominated. Consuming the life of all. Every so often, Truk saw a block of ice formed like what was once called a tree. Within it was not one such ...
Weekly Contest #352
Thunder rumbled, echoing through the bunker and waking Mark. He rolled from his bunk, grabbing his rifle before noticing no one else was panicking or moving for their weapons. Some watched him, curiously for a bit, before returning to what they had been doing. Some played cards, others chess, and one was typing away on a typewriter. The iridescent bulb hummed, its light making the bunkroom appear an off-grey; once it would have made it yellow, those days were long gone. Mark closed his eyes. Listening to the room, hearing the distant thunder...
Weekly Contest #349
Paul snapped awake, his eye flicking over to the digital calendar, ten years since then, April 31st as the news had called it.He stretched his neck before slipping into his normal black attire. He never felt the years pass him by, nor did he ever change.He pulled the blinds from his window as the UV lamps hummed above, the sun barely cresting the horizon.That light, though, pulled back the veil of darkness.What was once a lush forest is now a dead, ashen waste.The buildings all long since started to crumble, windows blown out, their skeleton...
Weekly Contest #346
The click of Paul’s boot heels echoed from the concrete as he walked to board the train. He was the only one at this station, but he could hear others chatting through the open windows. He stepped up and into the train, the conductor eyeing him. A flash of cold, Paul’s gaze snapped around, nothing. But he knew. “Not seen someone get on from this station in a long time, Ticket?” the conductor asked. Paul replied by pulling his ticket from his black shirt. “Not a talker, eh?” The conductor asked as he punched the ticket and waved Paul on. Paul...
Weekly Contest #345
Burning pain. Static, then an unending ring. Ash blinked a few times, registering the warmth of blunt impacts spreading across his body. He catalogued the sensations: pain, noise, pressure, nothing he hadn’t felt before. Ash planted a hand and let the armor haul him upright. He heard more static. His squad lay before him. Unmoving. The HUD confirmed what was already obvious, but Ash felt nothing. Just the checklist. Find Golem two. Locate the package. He pried it free: a black box, featureless except for its digital display and the markin...
Weekly Contest #340
Static, echoes of cries that never happened. Warmth running down the cheek from a cut that couldn’t be. Pain of a wound that wasn’t there, memory of the pain that never was. Panting as he stood surveying the destruction about him, wiping the nonexistent blood from his cheek. He moved towards the cries that echoed, unheard. Finding a body half was nothing more than charred destruction, the other untouched. Yet it cried without a breath to cry with. Paul moved forward; something had happened, and he couldn’t remember what. He saw an indent...
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