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Weekly Contest #370
There was a shadow in the corner, and Ethan had been refraining from painting that corner since he had started. His grip around the delicate wooden paintbrush tightened as he breathed in, and he brought it away from the canvas, surveying the work he had completed so far. He thought that it could be considered a masterpiece, if compared with Esme and Roland’s little boy’s finger-paintings. He put the paintbrush down, breathing out, and he wouldn’t look at that corner, but even the floor he looked down at betrayed him, wooden floorboards plac...
Weekly Contest #315
To tell the stories of old is to sing the legacies of legends and humble folk, of man, guardian, and Ki across this great land of Racë. This story speaks of the curly-haired and bright-eyed Rosemary Bagworth, she who has never rested long enough to call one place home, and her meeting with coal-bearded and quick-minded Dugward Stonefeet, he who was yet to wander the world. The inn smelled like she’d never been away. Dem’nev was a simple village, and she had walked into one of the many inns that littered the area. The King Estes Inn was a fa...
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