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Weekly Contest #369
I existed before there were names for things. On a planet whose name was never spoken, I watched its last ocean disappear beneath a blue sun. What remained of the water had collected in a shallow hollow of black stone, its surface trembling beneath the heat. Steam curled upward in thin white ribbons before vanishing into an atmosphere already too dry to receive it. I crouched beside what remained of the ocean and waited. Heat trembled above the black stone. The water had retreated so far that its final remnant barely covered the hollow benea...
Weekly Contest #368
The first thing Professor Veylan told them about the Melittan Paradox was that none of them would solve it. Which was a reckless thing to say to Avira. Rain worried at the high windows, blurring the quadrangle into something imprecise. Avira disliked the effect. The university was designed around symmetry—four black-stone towers, four walks, four reflecting pools—and now all that geometry dissolved into gray smudges. Lumen-glass lined the walls in iron brackets, one already clouding at the edges from spent salts. Avira noticed because appare...
Weekly Contest #367
The bridge sagged between them, old timber and fraying rope. A hundred feet of empty air yawned beneath it. Beyond that lay darkness, where the ravine swallowed the afternoon sun. Maera waited on the mainland. Kairn faced her from the island. Behind him, demons crowded the black cliffs shoulder to shoulder, claws gouging the earth. Some wore bodies that were almost human—parodies of flesh, skin stretched too tight or too loose. Others had too many limbs, too many teeth, too many eyes, and none where they belonged. They snarled and snapped at...
Weekly Contest #360
TW: grief, death of a parent, a car accident, hit-and-run, domestic abuse, substance abuse, and disturbing supernatural imagery. Vera stared at the cigarette pinched between her fingers as the first mournful toll of midnight bells echoed through the sodden streets. It was the last in the pack she had promised God she would never finish if her mother survived. The doctors warned there would be little chance after the car hit her, but Vera held on anyway. Hope felt too small for what she needed. Faith. Faith in the God her mother raised her t...
Weekly Contest #357
This is our third burning. The rancid smoke of her burning flesh coils through the night air, assaulting my sensitive nostrils. Years in Hell should have hardened me to such mortal cruelty, but no. The stench remains abhorrent to the senses. Althea’s screams echo through the clearing the townsfolk carved for her pyre. Not a soul moves to help her. Some faces twist in cruel delight. Some even cheer, their malice justified by a single sentence scrawled in a mortal’s holy book. “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.” Exodus, they call it. C...
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