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Weekly Contest #346
Cordelia Moriaglu I walk on the crepuscular hopes. My dreams are intangible. I remember everything. This holy diary of mine, a testimony of Beauty and Truth I do not like the word Hope. It is rather impossible to even think of it. Hope is for the meek. For the unworthy. For the one without a past or a future who didn't have courage to live. I did. And I lost my life. All left now is a memory. I will go in two days for the first and probably the last time too - in my family's old mansion. I don't intend to depart after I arrive. I found m...
Weekly Contest #345
Sarah looks on the cracked, darkened floor. An old, vintage Vuitton suitcase lies open with a single row of white clothes arranged inside. Her thoughts echo in the cavity of our ears: " Tonight I am seeing all this for the last time." She leans against the wall, with an ornate picture in her hands. Deeply round, vintage as well, we see a black and white picture candle lit by the only candle burning in the room. It's a woman. A young one. "Vernacular lies, I am a governess now. Daughter of a minister and a princess. I I'll never look back....
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