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Weekly Contest #99
The autumn of Winstone brought along a sort of melancholy which few of the residents could escape. It was noticed in small ways that accumulated until a conclusion of dreariness was reached, the scent of death in the breeze, the yellowing lawns and cracking gardens, or the searing scarlet of the sunset, like blood on a fire lit canvas. Winstone was layered with secluded grasslands and spaced out avenues. Willow trees sprung up in these places, outside of houses, far away from the bustle of the busy streets. It was quiet and cold, and far f...
Weekly Contest #84
"There goes my baby...wo-o-o-a-oh..." Michi rolled over and groaned, her body slightly restricted by the sheet pulled taut over her middle. She palmed the surface of her night table until she felt her phone and glanced upward briefly to turn off the alarm. Snuggled underneath the comforter, she drifted back into a slumber. "She is ma-ah love...there goes my baby..." She roused herself from sleep with a growl. She was awake now, and there was no going back to sleep. Light rain pelted the windows and she found that her memory failed h...
Weekly Contest #81
For most of the time we were friends, and the period in between then and now, Marjory was never a favored student. I don’t mean that she wasn’t a good one, only that she wasn’t favored. Often regarded with some disdain, she had a quick tongue and a snappy attitude. Her demeanor was fueled by a number of reasons, all of which weren’t sufficient enough for me to care about. She used several things to make her life easier; traits that allowed her to keep treating people the way that she did and continue to function as if she were the angel she ...
Weekly Contest #63
At John Wiliker's Orchard, the apples are bitter and sour as the wind. At John Wiliker's Orchard, the hayrides are short and the workers are dreary as the drooping leaves on the trees. At John Wiliker's Orchard, there are two apple cider stands, and neither of them are particularly enjoyable. There are only two reasons why the establishment receives visitors year after year, one, their apple fritters, which seem to completely contradict the taste of the apples themselves, and two, the ghosts in the red delicious orchard. James has never li...
Weekly Contest #44
A dense fog hung in the ground, uneasily suspended in the chilly air of the morn. The lampposts cast an eerie yellow glow on the wet streets just before a humble little chapel, which sat on a quiet avenue. The sky was a deep milky blue. At six o’clock precisely, a low bell shook the town with its reverberation, purging the silence and disrupting the toiled, the peaceful, and the meaningless slumbers. Some scarce souls continued their rests, though they were just minutes from rising unwillingly. In a shack of a home, down a lonely road w...
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