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Weekly Contest #7
The body lay in its casket, wide eyes empty as it stared blankly up at the sky. Bob Dylan entered the graveyard quietly, crossing through the maze of graves with careful patience, trying not to step on any of the graves. The last thing he wanted was any more bad luck. The world was already unlucky enough. He halted in front of the casket and sighed. “Who is he?” O’Brien asked, appearing from behind a nearby mausoleum. His suit was slightly rumpled, but Dylan didn’t mention it. Dylan looked down at the body and tried to recall the expre...
Weekly Contest #5
We met at a bus stop. You offered me a cigarette and I thought it was funny. Not many people smoke those nowadays. You said you had always been a sucker for the old fashioned, and I could see that in your eyes. It was like your pupils were black holes, pulling all the light of your irises into their swirling destruction. You had your headphones wrapped around your neck like a shawl, and I could see what you were listening to when your phone lit up. Bob Dylan. A classic. You really were old fashioned. You asked where I was going, and I ...
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