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Submitted to Contest #333
Elliot Marsh learned early in life that hunger was teacher; not always kind, but definitely present. He never had it to the level of being a punishment that clawed at the ribs or hollowed out thoughts. He had the quieter type of hunger … the one that lingered just long enough to sharpen curiosity and demanded the ability to cook with little. He was constantly asking himself what he could make with almost nothing in the house. What happens if you become so hungry, you lose the battle with patience over cooking? His apartment was one of a few ...
Submitted to Contest #332
August always tumbled towards autumn just a little earlier than most in Brannagh’s Rest. It could be because it’s in the northeast, but could be because the old Irish soil the city’s ancestors brought with them insisted on maintaining its own calendar. By the first weekend, the evenings always carried a small bite; nothing fierce, just a nip that reminded the villagers to don a sweater before the sun dipped. It was this chill that Kiera Rose O’Connell, age nine and proud of it, loved most about the end of summer. It also meant the campfire n...
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