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Weekly Contest #374
Magda traced the outline of the sigil with her index finger. Lightly at first and firmer with every revolution. A lock of hair pressed firmly between her lips. She releases it as the server approaches. “Hello, I’m Brian and I’ll be serving you today. Would you like anything to drink to start?” Magda nodded, “Yes, I’ll just take a glass of your malbec, please.” “Of course,” Brian says with a sweet smile and turns to leave. Magda remembered the summer she spent working in a cajun cafe right before she started and promptly failed college. She w...
Weekly Contest #152
The squeaky wheels of the gurney served as a shrill omen of the day’s reading. The air of the sanctuary was cold with a tinge of sweetness which stung the sinus cavity. Père Abdon and Père Abraham wheeled Pythia to the center of the sanctuary, a barren room save for a lone, crimson, velvet throne, illuminated by a bright flood light. Her pères lifted her emaciated body from the gurney and lowered her gently on the throne. The chair wrapped around her like arms embracing her in a comforting hug. A golden shawl was placed over her legs and cas...
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