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Weekly Contest #32
"So, when is he arriving?" So asked the skeptical voice of the woman on the phone. He knew the tone all too well, "He generally arrives around nine, always nine on a Thursday." "He died on a Thursday I take it?" John indulged in the skepticism of the caller, "Yes, about five years ago but he still comes for our nightly chess game. He always liked chess and we discussed all sorts of topics when he was alive." "And now? What could he possibly want to discuss?" Amused by the question, "We seem to talk as if nothing has changed ...
"He's having writer's block again I see." So the inner voice spoke up again as the fellow being spoken to took notice of the lack of the author about. The room they both occupied for the moment was indeed very empty of the author but the voices continued with their discourse on his latest work. It was for the most part a rather large office with a even rather larger amount of books on shelves, the floor, and a few sat as if they had been there a long time on older wooden chairs that had seen better days. It was a cluttered room of a lif...
Weekly Contest #31
She was alone now but at least she had her garden to occupy her time and memories. She stood at the moment at her kitchen window looking out at her backyard and the rose's that mostly dominated her joy in life since Harvey's death a couple of years ago. Had it been that long she thought with a deep sadness she had thought might be less but she knew better. Lose never grows easier with the days and years that go by nor does it really become somewhat easier to bear. What was easier to bear was that at least she would see him again; it was a ho...
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