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Weekly Contest #291
You look at me as you shuffle by. More to the point, you look down upon me—with contempt, with pity, with malice. Some of you spit at my feet. A few of you are bold enough to relieve yourselves on the damp newspapers that serve as my blanket. One or two drunks even defecate on me, muttering curses as they stumble away.I sit there and take it. I have no choice.My eyes are swollen from the beatings, blood is matted to my face, dried and hanging from my shattered nose like some stalactite of horror. My fingers are wrapped in dirty, dank cloth b...
Weekly Contest #290
It has been fifteen years of isolation, fifteen years of longing, fifteen years of pure hell. When the bombs started falling, followed by the mushroom clouds, we all thought that it was the end. We were not to be so lucky. Hundreds of millions died in the following two weeks. Those of us who lived, survived by sheer circumstance—geography, wind patterns, luck, or perhaps something darker. Maybe God turned His back on us. Maybe Lucifer took a shine to us. Either way, we were left in a state neither truly alive nor mercifully dead. At first, i...
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