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Submitted to Contest #240
Between the blindfold and the time spent asleep, Conor was uncertain which parts of the last day had been real - obscured by the black sash across his eyes - or the dreams of his addled mind. He was certain he was awake now though; the wind that had once carried the texture of sand from the shore had lost the aspect in favour for the feel and scent of salt, and the chill he felt was unmistakably of the night. Conor attempted to right himself into a sitting position as opposed to the crumpled mess he was in now. The all-encompassing ache of h...
Submitted to Contest #225
Faxi was struggling to adjust to the new land he had ventured to. It was his life’s calling to come to this place, establish connection and control, and use that influence to impede the actions of the Gigas and its spawn in order to protect his village and his people. All of the wise folk in his village always told him that he bore blessings that few possessed, that the spirits favoured him. At home he could believe it, but here… no favour could be felt. He was totally alone, and lonely for it. While he was alone, he was not without company...
Submitted to Contest #224
The development of one’s lifetime personality and behaviour is predominantly shaped in their childhood through events largely out of their control- the core belief of Freud’s theory of psychosexual development. The towering sycamore was awoken at first light, this day as all others since before it could remember. As for what it could remember, it recalled the learning that a morn’s new light meant a new day. It summoned the crowing of the cockerels and the stirring of the animals and automatons from their slumbers. The sycamore coul...
Submitted to Contest #220
Mik did not wish to leave the confines of this once great and prosperous castle, now a cold and dead crypt. He assumed that this castle, and the lands it claimed dominion, were once prosperous due to its sheer size and grandeur. Mik did not know truly though; he was not from these lands, after all. “That shouldn’t be there…” he muttered, his mind lost in the past, eyes unfocused. “They shouldn’t be here we… we shouldn’t be here.” Mik was a natural survivalist, spritely with the eyes of a hawk. It was these skills that landed him a spot on ...
Submitted to Contest #219
Before I would speak further of my current whereabouts and moral dilemma, there is one thing that I must make absolutely clear, perfect and unimpeachable: I, Jeremy Harrow, am an innocent man. I cannot say as to whether or not my trial was skewed by a force or party beyond my knowing; whether I accidentally spoke an error or contradiction during my long interrogation that perhaps gave credibility to my false imprisonment. I was, after all, a lonesome man from out of town, with no real friends or family within a hundred miles, temporarily mo...
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