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Weekly Contest #350
Dear Albert the Unbothered,I hope this letter finds you ever unbothered (for that is what your name suggests).I thank you so much for your advice. I just knew such a simple task would be easy for Sir Brutus. I spent many days slowly working into various conversations about how easy it would be to make our way down to the bridge of Bathmore and simply steal from those who cross it at all hours of the day. It took far longer than I thought it would because Sir Brutus is not as perceptive as knights such as Percival the Perceptive, or Sir Hende...
Weekly Contest #342
I watch her from my perch high on the balcony above the dance below. She dances with the grace of a pen sliding across a scribe's paper. Her partner is a weak and insignificant placeholder for someone truly beautiful and ethereal as the stars in the sky. I sigh at the utter frustration of it all. I cannot dance, I am the son of a minor noble, a possessor of naught but a hamlet or two. My stature brings to mind a tall and gangly colt, brown shaggy hair, and dingy green eyes give the overall impression of a young man who's done nothing but rea...
Weekly Contest #340
The smell of bacon wafts in the air and instantly I feel my mouth begin to water. The smell of the grease and bacon fat leaves me in a mode that is altogether robotic. I mean I'm a dog, more specifically according to my family… "a fat corgi" so what kind of self-control do you expect me to have? I jump up from my corner in the bedroom. My dad rolls over in his bed as I run out the door of the bedroom. I can feel the vibrations of the house shaking as I clickety clack down the hallway and through the dining room to where I know mom is throwin...
Weekly Contest #338
The voices started eight years ago. Whispers at the edge of sleep, urging me toward something I didn't understand. Now I know what they wanted me to find.I look at the old, care-worn cover of the leather book and feel something akin to nostalgia. I'm not sure why my mother abandoned me when I was just a child. The only memories I had of her were when she took me daily to the Library. While Dad worked two jobs to make ends meet, she spent hours researching in the roped-off section, poring over ancient books and occult material. I distinctly r...
Weekly Contest #337
I watched the ship pull away from the small island. It left behind a sense of injustice, frustration, and an all-consuming feeling of hopelessness. "I'M INNOCENT! MY DEATH WILL BE ON ALL OF YOUR HANDS!!" I yelled out at the top of my lungs. They would realize when it was too late that they had picked the wrong man.My name is Benji Woodson. I was a shipwright employed on the ship in her majesty's service. I'm not bragging when I tell you I was one of the best in my field.I sat down next to a copse of palm trees, the sand clinging to me alread...
Weekly Contest #336
This story contains depictions of substance abuse and domestic violence. "For the wrath of man worketh not the righteousness of God." – James 1:20 My daughter Hope and I ride in a worn-out carriage, pulled by our poor mare, down the two-mile road to our home. I still feel the shame from Joe, who runs the general store, noticing the faded yellow bruise on my cheek. My husband Tom is not a kind man when he is drunk—and he is drunk far more often than he is sober.What began as a shared dream soon became my own personal nightmare. In the spring ...
Weekly Contest #335
It's been two years since I walked the long path heading towards the one place I knew I could find peace. This week between holidays is nothing short of drudgery at its worst. It reminds me of loss, heartache, and pain, and so, I decided that instead of suffering through the depressing atmosphere, I would just spend a weekend in the cabin on the mountain.The walls of shimmering white snow line the trail, leaving the way treacherous and giving it an unearthly, distinctly alien appearance. The towering evergreens fill the air with their musky ...
Weekly Contest #334
Dear Sir Albert the Unbothered,My name is Theodore Eugene Diclopodus, but my friends call me Ted. I’m the squire of the most infamous knight in all the land—infamous, that is, for all the wrong reasons. Sir Brutus of the Bottom-Rung has always been devoted to being feared and respected, but unfortunately, such aspirations rarely align with the reality of who he is. I’ve been his squire for most of my life, and when it comes to the avenues of knighthood and evil, he suffers from a remarkable ineptitude in both. I try my best to improve his re...
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