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Weekly Contest #348
The pale-yellow light of the porch lamp echoed over the sharp edges of the middle-aged man; his sunken eyes more telling than a book which has been scuffed and curled under the weight of ownership and the heat of time. His heart beat louder than the crickets hidden within the bushes. “And what if we are discovered? I cannot risk that of my son.” “If we are discovered, old friend, then I admit, the death of your son may be the least of the miseries to befall us,” said an old man with a smile, sitting next to him. “Is that supposed to ...
Weekly Contest #345
Throughout these sullen years I’ve figured that my call to adventure would arise in a pillar of smoke, perhaps comparable to the raging fires of Troy. Whether or not that would be a good thing is of little importance to me; I suppose that in some form I was right -- I see the smoke in the distance. But for now, I see only the troubles that lay before me, small and incomparable to what’s to come ahead. I’ve lived in this house my entire life; all my memories lay dormant here, and the few that lay elsewhere die slowly by the day unl...
Weekly Contest #344
When I look down upon that jagged face with the jaw blown neatly off, I think of my hometown, though the cause of this informal and sorrowful correlation brings just as much misery as the thought of myself being the one that lay dead before me. The correlation of these two images come with a disgusted sense of déjà vu, one that brings a cry of pity in my heart. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt anything even close to pity . . . Ah! How long it’s been since I’ve felt much of anything at all! Where was it . . . yes – Munich. The jagged...
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