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Weekly Contest #357
To See If They Glow The MC's footsteps faded across the cobblestone as the sun started to set. The village square went quiet as he strode into Mabel’s Inn. Rowan turned back to his table. The evening restock was the same as every evening. He checked his vials and potions against his mental inventory, replaced what was sold, consolidated what wasn't. His hands moved through it without thought, uncorking, checking levels, resealing, repositioning. He had done this enough times that his hands knew the order before he did. He picked up the last ...
The Paper Boat Society Discord – #contest-talk Thursday, March 13 – 9:23 PMhungry_ghost_93: did everyone submit to red mirror this week?jade_fake: i did. prompt was aftermath of sacrifice. wrote about a mother who gave her qr code to a stranger so he could eatten_lives_no_wins: that's good. you'll losejade_fake: lmaohungry_ghost_93: it's actually funny. week 47 of the first timer rule holding strongten_lives_no_wins: not a rule. a curse.mei_lin: submitted mine. third time this year. same story. different name.ten_lives_no_wins: you're doing ...
Weekly Contest #355
Second Helpings The reception had been going since noon and by three the neighbors had finally cleared out, leaving just the family and the food and the strange quiet that settles into a house once everybody polite has gone home.Ruth's dining room table had never held so much. Church food mostly. Green bean casserole. Ham gone gray around the edges. Deviled eggs sweating onto paper plates. A sheet cake that said “Rest In Peace, Dale” in blue frosting, which was funny because he'd gone by Martin his whole life and hated the color blue.Then, t...
Weekly Contest #354
The aquarium closes at six. By seven it belongs to him.The octopus is in the east corridor. Large tank, blue-lit, the water always moving slightly from the aerator near the top. She has been here longer than he has. Three years he's been pushing this cart through these halls and she was already here when he arrived, already old by their standards, tucked behind the artificial rock formation like she'd been there since the building was built.The first time she came to the glass for him he thought it was coincidence. The second time he thought...
Weekly Contest #334
It was so terribly cold. Snow was falling, and it was almost dark.Two men stood among the trees and did not move. They had been taught not to move. They had been taught that the body was a betrayer. A foot that shifted, a sleeve that brushed a branch, a breath let out too hard. Each small thing could become a beacon.The taller man shifted anyway, once, a slow change of weight that left a faint crunch. He did it because his feet were going numb and he did not want to fall like a drunk in front of someone.The other man, the one nearer the hut,...
Weekly Contest #331
The lights along the edge of the train platform glowed through a faint veil of falling snow. Thin flakes drifted down as if testing the air before committing to a storm. The platform looked different in the early morning. She pulled her scarf higher across her mouth and let the cold settle into her lungs. It felt clearer than the air in her apartment had been when she slipped out before sunrise.Her birthday never made her sentimental, but she didn’t want it started with loud singing and homemade banner signs taped to the kitchen cabinets. He...
Weekly Contest #306
Silence in the Fire [119 DAYS POST COLLAPSE][MISSION DEBRIEF REPORT]YARROW COMMAND LOG | OPERATIONAL MISSION DEBRIEF | ENTRY 4087-A] DISTRIBUTION: INTERNAL LEADERSHIP CHANNEL ONLY (HERON, OPERATIONS RECORD) ASHLEIGH D. | STATUS: ACTIVEPhantom’s last words were: “You should’ve let me go alone.”He was right. But I couldn’t do it.We ran the corridor south of Subloop 19-terrain familiar, activity low. Pattern scans from previous missions showed gaps every 11 minutes. We entered on a 9-minute count to allow time for margin. He covered the rear.Co...
Weekly Contest #304
The Hound of Hollow PinesThe fire crackled low in the underground bunker, spitting sparks that briefly lit the jagged ceiling. Children sat cross-legged around the flames, wrapped in wool blankets and too-thin jackets, their faces upturned and waiting. Some leaned forward with their chins on their fists. Others, older, feigned disinterest, but even their eyes never left the man crouched beside the fire. They were sent to the odd man whose body was twisted and pained, not for a fireside ghost story, but because they needed to know what they w...
Weekly Contest #298
Finding GraceThe woods were thick with mist, quiet in a way that wasn’t natural. Silas Boone crouched low behind a stand of spruce trees, one weathered hand resting on the stock of his old hunting rifle. His ears strained against the silence, listening for the mechanical whine that always came before death. He didn’t hear it yet—but it was coming. It always was.He adjusted his canvas pack, squinting through the fog. It was late afternoon, the sky a colorless smear, neither day nor night. His boots left no trail in the pine needles. That was ...
Weekly Contest #284
The Light of LuminaeaPrincess Aveline sat alone at the dining table, the flickering glow of candles casting her shadow onto the high stone walls. The Luminaea Solstice had always been her favorite celebration—a time for renewal and hope during the year's darkest night. Yet this year, hope felt as distant as the stars.The gilded hall shimmered with decorations meant to inspire cheer. Silver banners embroidered with phoenixes hung from the vaulted ceiling, and crystal lanterns lined the long oak table, their warm light reflecting off plates la...
Weekly Contest #274
The Footsteps at Prescott HouseIt’s funny how you can go your whole life not believing in something—until you experience it yourself. I never thought much about ghosts or demons. To me, they were just the kind of stories people told to get a rise out of others, or maybe to scare themselves for fun. I used to roll my eyes at that stuff. But one night, in an old abandoned house out in the Midwest, that all changed. It started like any other weekend adventure. My friend Josh and I had been to Prescott House once before. We’d heard all the rumor...
Weekly Contest #269
The Sisters of TruthSensitivity Warning - Mild Sexual Violence Mentioned Edward Hale sat across from Detective Verena Jones in the cold, sterile interrogation room, his posture too casual, too calm for a man in his situation. His fingers tapped lightly against the metal table, a small, measured beat that gave away more than his steady voice ever could. His eyes, though polite and attentive, showed frustration. Verena knew he wasn’t the type to break easily. She could feel the tension between his words and carefully chosen pauses.Verena shift...
Weekly Contest #255
This is a Fan-Fic story from Jane Austen's Sense and Sensibility Marianne's Vengeance: Dark ThoughtsMarianne walked briskly, her steps firm and purposeful as she moved through the lush countryside surrounding the Palmers' estate. Her mind, usually so full of romantic reveries and poetic musings, was now consumed by a dark storm of anger and betrayal. Each step seemed to echo the tumult within her soul, her heart beating in rhythm with the fierce determination that propelled her forward.How could he? How could Willoughby, whom she had trusted...
The Fallen’s PleaThe celestial courts of Heaven were a sight to behold, bathed in divine light so pure and overwhelming that it was hard to look directly at it without feeling a surge of reverence. Angels sang in harmonious choirs, their voices weaving an ethereal symphony that seemed to float on the very air. Their sounds were a testament to the eternal glory and peace that filled this sacred realm. The presence of God was everywhere, a palpable force that imbued every corner with an essence of unwavering love and justice.Amidst this celest...
Fairness and Freedom Trigger Warning: Contains acts of war. We both stand in the clearing, staring at each other. I'm struck motionless by the suddenness of seeing him in front of me. His fear-stricken eyes mirror my shock. We recognize each other immediately—not the person, but the uniform. Neither of us has our guns at the ready. I hold mine by the stock, pointing it to the ground. He grasps his, white-knuckled, pointing it to his left, his fingers nowhere near the trigger. The slightest movement by one would send the other swinging the g...
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