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Weekly Contest #290
Author’s note: Joke is a female Dutch name (pronounced “Yoke”), nothing funny :-) The mist obscured the horizon, and the fine, persistent rain, driven by the wind, felt prickly. The Ostend beach that October was as dark as a Léon Spilliaert painting. Waiting there alone for her lover, Joke had walked sideways, barefoot in the foam. But when the downpour—“de drache” as the Flemish say—began, she sought refuge in the dunes. “I do wonder what is that mysterious present I shall be given.” said she to herself.As she rounded a bend, she spotted a ...
Warning: this story contains physical violence, suicide, sexual content, and references to sexual violence. The author's intent was to imagine the lives and mindsets of actual people and stories from newspaper articles, not to encourage or excuse any reprehensible behavior. He came home at five, like always. His heart pounded, and his cock was hard. The house where he lived alone was small, cheap because it sat by the highway. Didn't bother him much. Inside, paintings from his youth and antiques made it a little fancier. He grabbed the rav...
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