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Weekly Contest #204
The last man to see Oscar O’Neill and his family alive was I, Charles Solomon, because they were my family too, and every sunrise I regret that I did not burn with them that awful night when Kendrick Jophiel marched his mob upon us on account of what was done to his kin. Done by me, and by O’Neill’s boys, Elmore Keene, Gregory, and Felix. We learned to kill together in the war of the rebellion, but afterwards we kept right on going as the cycles of spilled blood back home spun out, and the thirst for revenge hung heavy on us all, Kendrick in...
Weekly Contest #142
Upon the death of his wife, the king went mad with sorrow. For days on end he sat silent on his throne, eyes down, his whole court frozen around him, no one daring to speak lest the ominous crackling potential in the air turn them into a lightning rod. Nothing could break the king’s trance, it seemed, not his favorite stories from the court jester, nor his favorite dishes from the court cook. Even his chief adviser’s soothing and cajoling could not rouse him, as the adviser deployed upon his king the same sing-song tones he used to manage hi...
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