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Weekly Contest #40
Ed hears the sound of another bloody bottle saying hello to the bathroom floor. “Not another one?” He calls as he passes the door, which is actually ajar. Stevie’s voice comes back sounding lethargic. “No I reused used the same stuff”.Ed grunts at him. He bumps his feet down the stairs. He’s in a good-ish mood. Keira squeezes by in the hallway. “Alright?” she nods. Norfolk kid, Ed thinks.“Not bad, not bad. How‘bout you?”.…Scottish twat, Keira thinks, amicably. “Yeah, fair, thanks. Something up?”Ed rolls his head back and forth. He’...
Weekly Contest #36
I can’t sleep — it‘s eating me up. Again. I should date this? Oh, I know the date anyway. I won’t look back at this. It won’t be very interesting later. Not to me. I hid the thing under my bed earlier today. I can’t even write it down to myself, but I’m writing about the fact that I can’t write it down. I suppose I’m tired. That’ll be it. My god I’m tired. Can’t you just let me sleep? Please. I heard Kafka wrote best when he was sleep deprived. I could tell it. His stories are so strange and foggy. I realised before I was told that he h...
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