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Weekly Contest #345
A steaming mug was clutched between Kumo’s hands as she watched the sun rise, her eyes barely able to hold themselves open. After a long night shift, all she wanted to do was to go to bed. But she had to wait today, as the mail would be coming.The mailman, Davis, would come running soon, his bag nearly bursting due to all of the papers crammed into it. No matter how many times Kumo offered to stitch it up for him, he declined, his eyes alight and already itching to run the long distance between her house and the next. The only thing he accep...
Weekly Contest #333
TW: Fatal illness and anxietyA clinking sound rang throughout the kitchen, a demanding fork hitting the glass in front of the oldest child. Glassy eyes looked up to the head of the table, where the young girl sat. She was a simple-looking one: blonde hair tied back into a long braid, her cracked lips pursed as she stared down at the worn baby blue dress. Her fingers clenched the fabric as her younger siblings continued to stare, hoping for something she could not give. “Emilia?” the youngest finally said, breaking the silence. “What is it?”...
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