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Weekly Contest #349
Another one has joined Us, her name was Flora, and she has shared beautiful things. She is a painter, with a mind full of rolling hills and loved family homes. Through her, We experience the smell of flowering meadow cut only by grazing deer; the feel of well worn linen sheets patched with tiny delicate stitches against skin; the pride of preserving a sunset on canvas. Hundreds of bodies experiencing it as one, it’s more than any of Us could dream of when we were just our single selves, and we feel together as Flora dissolves into Us, her la...
Weekly Contest #335
And so, finally, I reach my destination. In front of me looms a concrete rock face, chipped and battered by decades of weather and neglect, the crumbling creating nooks that could be footholds if it came to it, though I hope to find a door. I walk a slow circle around the monumental building, a temple to hubris and the nuclear gods, looking for the way in and admiring the decay as I go. Outside the walls, nature is thriving, the leafless trees are tall and strong, holding tight to their energy for an explosion of colour in spring, tiny birds...
Weekly Contest #334
Note: this is a version of the Golem of Prague story and thus contains descriptions of violent antisemitism. Humans do not remember their creation. They do not remember a soul entering their tiny bodies, they remember neither the comfort of the womb, nor the sudden shock of first breathing air, and so they have become obsessed with their ultimate creator. They worship Him- they have declared it a Him despite the circumstantial evidence -; they live their lives according to His rules, shared through His few special men; they see Him in their ...
Weekly Contest #305
I stared at the crowd and told the biggest lie of my life.“Quiet down, folks, everything is going to be just fine,” I assured the gathered mass in front of me. People of all ages, dressed from whatever days they were having before the alarms went off. Most were quiet already, staring right back up at me, and those that weren’t soon quieted down. The microphone felt wrong, like I was back at a rally seeking election, when those sorts of things mattered.“I’m sure you all heard it, and I’m not going to patronise all you intelligent people by pr...
Weekly Contest #274
Please note: contains brief but explicit sexual assault and non-explicit but plot-central violence. Fate is resourceful. The fates are resourceful, they have to be, with so little to work with: one eye shared between three, with vision that sees just barely into the future, not further than the end of your nose; no ears, unable to hear pleas sent to them; just enough fine spiderwebby thread to keep time moving forwards, as long as they occasionally unpick and reuse what came before. This is why history repeats, dead end stories spun back int...
Weekly Contest #264
I’m at a wedding when I see her, the most beautiful woman I could imagine. She’s dressed in her best, knee length baby blue silk. It matches her eyes, and the diamonds around her neck glint when she laughs. I sit and watch her, mesmerised and oblivious to the world around me, as she sips her drink and sways or claps along to the music. My heart races as she stands up to join the dancing, terrified to lose sight. I stand up too. I need to use my hand and the sturdy wooden table to help me. I must have had a few more drinks than I remember. I ...
Weekly Contest #253
“Isn’t it remarkable?” Phil exclaimed, stepping up on yet another chunk of rock, with only the slightest groan as his ageing knees clicked. Neither of the men could tell if the rock was part of the ruins, fallen and slowly decaying into the earth, or part of the landscape, soil eroded by the harsh winds and dry weather of the place. Neither particularly cared, another set of footprints couldn’t hurt. It had survived the fall of empires, it wouldn’t be crumbled by a pair of flexible soled orthopaedic hiking boots. “Yes, remarkable,” Beck agre...
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