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Submitted to Contest #55
Tristan woke slowly to the knocking and lifted his head. Pain brooded in his skull. There were shapes twisting about in front of his eyes, caused by the darkness. Everything was tangled in his mind. Bizarre half-forgotten dreams, the past, the present. He laid three facts down in his mind like metal bars. He was on the sitting-room sofa. A blanket was tangled around him. There was light trying to force its way in through the curtains. Then he pulled himself off the couch and ran to the door. He undid the bolts, pushed up the plank, unknott...
Submitted to Contest #50
Hazel arrives last. We hear clattering at the base of the treehouse and David, closest to the entrance, turns. “She’s here.” He tries to keep his tone light but there’s a certain strain in it. I hear Hazel’s bike dropping hard onto the ground next and I wince. What the hell would her mam do to her if she broke it? Why can’t she just take a bit more care of things? She climbs up and I try to act normal as I see her looking round. It’s all dark here with only a small dirty window, and disgusting spiders in several places. It’s really small, t...
Submitted to Contest #49
I had expected it to be unexpectedly ordinary. But it’s not. It has curtains, which are dark red velvet. It even has candles, on the floor perched on empty chairs, which is dangerous. I’m surprised she’d put real ones there. The chairs are velvet-cushioned in red as well. Their legs are made of brass-coloured plastic, which looks a bit cheapy, but if you forget about that it’s like one of those witch images my daughter would search online. The candles are white. One of them has dripped wax right onto its chair. That’ll take scrubbing to get ...
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