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Weekly Contest #353
The moon went dark. It wasn’t noticed right away. Lunar cycles and all that. The New Moon, the moment of every cycle when we look to the sky and see nothing but the stars. So, when the darkness happened, no one thought anything of it. Except the astronomers. Apparently, there was quite the meltdown happening in that particular scientific community. Understandable. If your job is to watch space and make deductions or theories, and then explain the findings to the rest of the world…. Well, having one of the most widely known pa...
Weekly Contest #351
Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. He lay where she left him, still as the stone top of the island he rested upon. Skin pale and smooth and radiant. Like a statue, carved from the most exquisite marble. Beautiful. She moved closer, captured by him. Relished the softness beneath her fingertips as she trailed them down his cheek. He was perfection. The very perfection she had spent all these years searching for. And, in the end, she created him. She felt the pride blooming in her chest, filling the emptiness her heart had left behind. But impat...
Weekly Contest #284
“I am sorry.” Her voice was soft, gentle even, as it always was. It was a voice that used to bring me comfort. Used to. “Are you?” It was harsh, I knew that, harsher than I even meant it to be. But I was….Angry? Disappointed? Hurt? All of these felt both accurate yet inadequate. I was in pain. A pain she caused. “Of course I’m sorry.” Her tone sounded wounded. As if she couldn’t believe I would ask her such a thing. I raised my eyes to look at her. She looked remorseful. And between the words, the voice, and the sad express...
Weekly Contest #283
“I hate snow.” AnnaSophia mumbled to herself. She watched it fall from her spot, curled up on the seat of the bay window. The bay window overlooked the front yard that belonged to the little cottage she rented every year for the holidays. This was supposed to be her home away from home. Her little retreat. Her way of getting away from the overwhelming hustle and bustle of the city. That, and the constant calls from her editor asking about her next novel. To which she always replied, “I’m typing as we speak.” She wasn’t. &nb...
Weekly Contest #271
It was quiet. Near silent. The only sounds to be heard were the rustle of paper and the musical tinkling of her bracelets as she turned the pages of the book currently consuming her attention. She sat, curled in her favorite spot. Tucked back into the farthest corner of the library. No one bothered her here. No one ever seemed to venture this deep into the old stacks. She wasn’t entirely sure why. Her best guess was a combination of the age of the books themselves and the lack of avid readers. When she had first laid eyes on the ...
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