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Weekly Contest #211
The scene in the royal courtyard was almost symphonic. The clopping of hooves. The chains going taut against loose earth. The neighs of steeds whipped into motion. And the cries of pain in tempo with the sickening tearing of flesh. The gaunt man in satin robes observed this disinterestedly- he had no taste for such showy executions,. Regardless, it was decorum a man of his station presides over the end of a noble family. Silat would much rather be at his desk sending letters of importance and refining policies in privacy. Perhaps I can s...
Weekly Contest #210
Ibrahim was roused first by the hum of the engine miles overhead, then the tugging of his shirt by a small, frantic hand. The young man was alert quickly- he hadn’t a good night's sleep for a decade. Sure, he had gotten used to hard floors littered with shards of glass, metal and prism-agate, the constant haze of Argon smog and smoke, but he would never allow himself the complacence. Wiping the drool from his unshaven face, he squinted at the starry dusk sky through the tattered roof. Through the smog, he could vaguely make out two small o...
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