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Weekly Contest #363
I suppose I shouldn't complain about my childhood. But because this is my book I will. One word could characterize it: boredom. I was raised by my nanny and taught by a governess. My father was present for the most minimal amount of times. Every night we would get an hour or so together where me, my father, and my mother sat together in the parlor. I would sit board straight and wait to be spoken to. My father would sit with his legs elegantly crossed in such a thoroughly masculine way and my mother would do her needle point and pretend to ...
Weekly Contest #362
The early morning sun streaked in through the greasy saloon windows. The men around the table were slowly dwindling. The most responsible of them had called it a night at 10:00pm, then the next crowd left around 1:00am, another crowd of particularly troublesome men left at 4:00am. Finally, there were only a handful of men left at 6:45am, who completely and utterly lacked any devotion to anything but the table. Even in this group, the men were separated from boys, and soon, two of the three men looked at the rising sun, rubbed their sore eyes...
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