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Submitted to Contest #112
“Keep running! Don’t look back!” Clutching the fur of her small dog closer to her rapidly beating heart, the young girl looks over her shoulder to spot her companion in dark robes trailing behind her, trying not to stumble and fall. “I said don’t look back!” “Where are we going?! Why can’t we take your broom?!” The little girl wailed. “The broom is gone! I had to set it on fire so they couldn’t follow us with it!” “They’re FLYING MONKEYS! They’re already following us! Wouldn’t the broom be faster?!” Her companion doesn’t answer a...
Submitted to Contest #111
The wind smelled putrid at this time of night, but perhaps the blood and gore on one’s leather-gloved hands made it so vial. Or perhaps it was the stench of poverty slowly poisoning my pure city, dampening the air, rustic enough to peel the sides of the buildings. My once shining jewel of a neighborhood has become impoverished, full of Women of the Night and hungry children covered in soot. What has happened to my sweet Whitechapel, London?Using a brand new handkerchief to open the door, it’s too late to keep the stench from invading my sanc...
Submitted to Contest #104
Watching her through the looking glass is as boring as lying awake at night. She wakes up every day and walks to the mirror, and I'm always there to watch her, mimic her, move the way she does and only stop when she's not looking. The Others don't have to do this as often as I do with their Reflections. Normal Reflections get up, fix their hair, change their clothes, and actually leave the house to go to school, work, or whatever they do, and then the Others follow them to meet again in any other looking glasses they may pass by throughout...
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