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Submitted to Contest #328
“They said I was the chosen one,” I grumbled. “Absolute rubbish.” David had that same bored expression, as he gazed over the bar towards me. He was polishing the same mug as the day before. “Chosen for what?” David asked. A slight, mocking grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. I narrowed my eyes. He was baiting me again, like he did every day. “Fuck it,” I said, biting. “I hope you’re ready for a wild story.” David smiled and lowered the mug. He slung the dirty rag he’d been using over his shoulder and leant against the bar, all ears. I st...
Submitted to Contest #327
Mister Pudding-Pants looked down disdainfully at the brood of witches gathered around his table. His chief minion, Mistress Jupiter Alder fretted over the group like a mouse caught in a trap. She was waving her hands and complaining yet again that the spell had failed to work. These people knew nothing of true witchcraft. They toiled among the plain people of the world, never pulling back the curtain long or far enough to see what truly lay on the other side. “My rose bushes!” Jupiter shrieked, glaring out her window in horror. “They’ve turn...
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