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Weekly Contest #363
I was lost. The snow-laden conifers looked the same no matter which way I looked. They surrounded me, smothering any hope of getting out of here before dark. My steps crunched on the snow, which deceived me into thinking it could bear my weight. With each step, my legs were buried in the snow up to my knees. I pushed my black hair out of my face and adjusted my hood. I kept moving forward, crunch after crunch. We called it post-holing- the act of stepping through deep snow and sinking in with every step.My mind drifted. I thought of my cabin...
Weekly Contest #361
I took a deep breath, the crisp air filling my lungs, a sharp contrast to the swirl of warmth in my parka and beaver fur ruff. The crunch of the snow under my boots echoed in the stillness, each step heavy with solitude. The landscape was a frozen sea, the white blanket stretching endlessly, interrupted only by the gnarled silhouettes of ancient trees standing guard over the secrets of the wilderness.The sky was black with a million stars. The waning crescent moon was in line with Venus and Jupiter, the two most prominent lights in the sky. ...
Weekly Contest #359
Once, in the deep green heart of the Black Forest, there stood a village so small that smoke from one hearth could scent the whole street by supper. Its cottages leaned close together beneath roofs of golden thatch. The village was called Tannenried, and around it the forest grew thick and old. At night the wolves sang from the hills.In that village lived a girl named Greta. She wore a red wool cloak that her mother had sewn for her when she was small. It was trimmed with intricate black designs, and her grandmother stitched three black butt...
Weekly Contest #358
Nobody believed in me. That was their first mistake. If you'd met me ten years ago, you probably wouldn't remember me. I was the woman with mousy hair and unremarkable clothing, who sat at the end of conference tables and took notes. The woman whose emails got ignored until a man repeated the same idea fifteen minutes later. The woman who blended into office photos and holiday parties. My name was Mara Vance. I worked as a data analyst for a tech company in Seattle. I lived alone in a one-bedroom apartment. I owned too many books, watered my...
Weekly Contest #355
By the time the fifth bell tolled from the chapel tower, the storm had already begun its slow assault upon Blackthorn Hall. The wind whipped the rain and slammed it into the windows.The storm pressed itself against the old manor as if it wished to be invited in. The old house, however, had never been generous with invitations. It stood on the cliff above the black sea, ancient and stark. While the storm ranged outside five people nursed 5 different versions of guilt. None of them suspected that a dead man had arranged matters so their guilt ...
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