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Weekly Contest #340
Isabeau Delacroix was beautiful, even without us to adorn her. She fit into her lacy white wedding gown wonderfully, though she spent the entirety of her time in it wincing at her own reflection, the rouge on her cheeks hiding how utterly devoid of pallor her nervous, little face was.“My dearest,” Lord Hartgrove IV said, as he’d slipped us around her neck, fastening us to her with a smile so wide it seemed to tear at his mouth, “Gods would fight wars in the heavens for you. You look beautiful, dearest. Smile, for with this necklace, I am pro...
Weekly Contest #280
“Pass me that eyeball.” “No, the one on your left, the hazel ones not the green ones.” “I don’t know. Do you really want the creature to look identical to Perry?” “What’s the point of defying the laws of nature if we’re not getting the real deal back?” “If it were the real deal–here’s your goddamn eye, Roger–why are we using the torso of a random man we found in the river last week, the arms of a recently deceased Leonard from next door, and the legs–ugh, I don’t even want to talk about the legs. The only thing this m...
Weekly Contest #224
“I can’t sleep,” Miriam says, slipping onto the pull out couch, and bumping her head against my arm to get my attention. She gets me, at least, to notice her. Before this interruption, I’d been staring off at the crumbling motel walls. I’m the only one who’s supposed to be awake right now. Mrs. Forsythe told me to stay up until 3 AM tonight, as she was going to call between the hours of 1 and 3 in the morning, and needed me to be ready to anticipate the call. “There’s nothing better than a prepared employee, 213,” Mrs...
Weekly Contest #207
There were rumors that Max Valiant made a deal with the devil for unconditional stardom, because every night of his shows drew people in droves. That in itself wouldn’t be entirely out of the ordinary if Max Valiant was good at what he did. If Max Valiant had the sleightest of hands, or even the suavest of stage personas, then the large crowds at his shows could be entirely excused as people lining up to see a master magician at work. If he were a lovely role model, perhaps, a wholesome presence, then maybe it would explain his popul...
Weekly Contest #204
When Hiram woke up, the first thing he saw was another face, inches from his own. The face belonged to another boy who seemed to be roughly his age, with a pitiful feather-duster mustache and one of the more ridiculous outfits Hiram had ever seen. The guy dressed as if a cowboy and a circus clown combined styles. It didn’t work. Bright blue suspenders clashed with a ruffled, cream-orange shirt. His jeans were the wrong shade of blue when compared to his robin's egg suspenders. The monstrosity was topped off with black, spurred cowboy...
Weekly Contest #159
“I don’t think I’ll have enough for this,” you remark, fumbling around in your purse, trying to produce the coins necessary to purchase the blanket you had your eye on from the moment we walked into the store. I smile at you, my eyes gleaming in a way that suggests I know more than you. You furrow your brow at me, as your face scrunches together in the expression I’ve grown so fond of as we’ve traveled the world together. I chuckle, and walk over to you, as you turn back to examine the blanket. I swipe my finger to your foreh...
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