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Submitted to Contest #278
“You’re telling me…” - Mr. Tabrenacle rubbed his eyes - “..you’re telling me that’s not a bookstore?”Eduard was standing in front of the large display window, shifting his weight around nervously. The words “Eduard’s Books Galore” shimmering in golden lettering on the glass.“Well Steve…” - he ventured, rubbing his short beard - “I mean it’s more of an event than a store you see?”“An event.. right.” - a clipboard was produced, a pen was clicked menacingly, and the man took on an even sterner air. “First of all, my name is Mr. Tabrenacle, Stev...
Sensitive content:ViolenceSuicideIzza and Mida fluttered up the towering wooden construct, busily chattering over the sound of their buzzing wings.‘‘So he’s been going up their for months now?’’ Izza inquired in a high pitched voice that accentuated her delicate features. Her two large wings were a radiant teal that took on a silver gleam when they caught the light just right. She often positioned herself in such a way to make sure they did.‘‘Every week, like clockwork…’’ Mida returned. ‘‘…he just sits there listening to the humans tell tale...
Submitted to Contest #275
What happens when a ghost, a specter, an undying presence returns home after a century of travel? How different and eerily familiar the old houses must look to her. Autumn leaves crunching under pedestrians heavy boots, scarves and thick coats enveloping the good citizens, hiding them from the cold November wind.The townspeople walked by the hospital and round the corner, scarcely looking up from their raised collars. The somber building had changed little after all these years. With it’s thick, white walls the hospital looked like a fortres...
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