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Weekly Contest #361
In the afternoon of June 17, 1898, Dan Mitchells lay bleeding with a knife in his back in the old church presidio of San Cayetano. The people responsible were none other than Willy and Emeline, whom he had once considered his best friend and lover, respectively.Aside from this, it was a fairly good day out. Water flowed through the banks of the Santa Cruz, a wind blew from the south coming from Mexico, and that night fireflies would light up the valley in company with the many stars. Dan, of course, cared none for any of this, and instead on...
Weekly Contest #359
There are moments when the soul disconnects so thoroughly from the physical world that all matter begins to swirl and blur. When the walls of the universe and the windows of the soul glaze over, leaving only a door to darkness and the echoes of life a million miles away. It is in this moment that I live. I do not know how I came here (does anyone really?), but I know I've been here too long. I don't think anyone belongs here. This room, a twisted reflection of the libraries and studies of my youth. It gorges around itself, like it's a bubble...
Shortlisted for Contest #258 ⭐️
On a July day in 1877, the Sea of Cortez began to boil. Heat swelling from the sun beating on the water for over a year would begin to drift up and mold and sculpt it into a cloud. This rising, energized water would grow in fury, as the heat increased and so did the population of possessed sea water, the droplets began to bump, and grind and smack against each other. As this rowdy brawl, we refer to as a cloud became more agitated, it grew hotter, not even realizing that it was being blown and directed by the wind. All this to say, my f...
Weekly Contest #257
I have always yearned for the sky, and the freedom it has brought. It’s not an original dream, I know. The sparkling blue and green wings with which I fly are evidence of that, the collected work of hundreds, thousands, perhaps even millions before me desperately reaching for the sun before the arms of their children grew them closer to that grand finishing line. No, I am not the only pigeon to have dreamt of the wonders past the stratosphere. But still my whole life, I have chased it as if the first to become mad with curiosity and wonder, ...
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