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Weekly Contest #241
T-tick; t-tock; t-tick; t-tock Jedediah Cypress shuddered. The room was warm, his bottle of water cool, the lights about him soft and yellow-white. In one corner of what he could not bring himself to call the cell stood an overstuffed recliner, plush and welcoming, and in another stood a bed—neither a camp cot nor a trundle, but an honest-to-goodness bed, with just the kind of floral duvet he and Marsha had always kept, a veritable cocoon of luxuriant high thread-count sheets and weighty down pillows. A lamp sat upon the bedside table, a rec...
Weekly Contest #240
Red. All red, beneath that bright burning sky, pale sun and wisps of cloud, pink as the light of day began to slip beneath the horizon. Still and dead, scorched brick scrub in rusty sand, cracked copper ground which crumbled under aching feet, skin blistered and peeling as the traveler moved, kicking up dust with the toes of too-small sandals. The straps of the battered old army pack cut crimson stripes into narrow shoulders, and the thorns of bush plants swiped and clawed at thin ankles; a tattered and too-big T-shirt of khaki, mud-spattere...
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