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Weekly Contest #314
“Jesus, Collin. It’s cold as hell out.” I take one more supplicatory look at tonight’s patron star – give me strength, I pray – and twist in my wicker chair to see Richard closing the gate to my back yard. He clutches his overcoat tighter and walks the path through my wintered wildflowers with a stiff gait. That overcoat probably cost more than my mortgage, but a knee-length won’t cut it tonight. A stiff breeze could – what’s that Dad used to say? – freeze the balls off a brass monkey. I crack a smile at the thought of Richard losing a coupl...
Weekly Contest #247
Dawn had barely shone through the trees when sirens blared from the town’s encircling wall. Morgan pretended to panic. She knew that’s what would be expected of everyone. While she ran and faked a scream, she kept her eyes on the action outside the large gate. Taking note, too, of the guards stationed on the wall.A rustle in the bushes 20 meters out. A man – or what would have been a man before the Water War – ran from the bushes toward the gate. Morgan could see wild eyes, blood smeared on his face like war paint, and a hefty tree branch he...
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