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Weekly Contest #363
The crunch of freshly fallen snow can be heard underfoot as pointed crystals dangle tauntingly out of reach of tiny hands. The frozen icicles were just begging to be licked like a popsicle or used as a makeshift sword to do away with an annoying older brother. The latter would be preferable because I can already hear Mom’s words: “Do not eat the snow!” or “Get that icicle out of your mouth!” Alas, the hope of one falling is slim, but eventually the drowsy sun will peek out from the wispy winter clouds, warming the dry air enough to give the ...
Weekly Contest #255
From a tender age, the mischievous goddess Atë has chosen me as one of her ruinous subjects. It's like having my own personal angel and devil sitting atop my shoulders. Her tempting whispers in my ear were barbed and dangerous words veiled as butterfly kisses, and her hypnotic ideations were a subtle yet relentless pull into a purgatory I was utterly powerless to overcome. Each word that escapes her lips places a stone on my altar of constitution until I am burdened and leaden. I find myself immobilized, consumed by shame, yet too far gone t...
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