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Weekly Contest #314
I know. I know. Dragons can’t talk. We just soar around. Just breathe fire. Just harass the populace. Well, not this dragon. Not old Durginak (that’s me). Thanks to a young druid from DeVille, a spell was cast from his staff, and here I am speaking the language. It’s about time too. I’m four hundred and forty years old. And in that time, I’ve only had one friend. Oh Rosalina. Her bones are buried out back of my cave. There under my rock porch where I lounge and look over the valley and wonder what could have been. Now before you say, ‘Wait ...
Weekly Contest #51
The warm, phantom wind rolled off Lake Pontchartrain and struck Noelle’s teenage body as she sat on the roof of her mother’s cottage. She’d been out on the edge for thirty minutes, climbing from her bedroom window to try and quiet her mind. She leaned back on her elbows while the rushing air caressed her bare feet, her smooth legs, her anguished face. Up above the stars were scattered and burning brightly, glimmering eyes gazing out amid an ocean of darkness. Noelle’s eyes weren’t a reflection of the stars; they were much more wet, glistenin...
Weekly Contest #49
On a Monday evening Connor rode the metro to the Foggy Bottom station and disembarked. He took the long escalator up from the underground, gazing at his palm. There in blue ink he had written an address: 1110 23rd Street NW. And underneath that he had written two words: Freedom Now. Since his father had taken away his phone, he had to resort to more primitive methods of note taking. It wasn’t so bad actually. Without a phone there was much less distraction and his parents could no longer track his whereabouts with the Find My Friends app. Hi...
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