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Weekly Contest #51
The Leo constellation is my favourite. It’s also my star sign. I guess that is why it’s my favourite, Leo’s are self-centered and stubborn: I always get what I want. Don’t get me wrong, I worked for what I have. I was the valedictorian at high school, I had an enviable GPA and I got into Yale and Harvard on merit alone, but I had to sacrifice likeability. People who are loved get nowhere. Fact. So I ditched that sentimentality, for this: perched on a sunbed, at 2am in my parents immaculately landscaped garden, feet skimming cool, pool water ...
Weekly Contest #39
Wednesday the 27th June 2027, that was the day I was inducted into BIED. I remember vividly sitting in a conference room surrounded by about 20 or so other recruits. There was crappy coffee and weird biscuits. Everyone awkwardly mingled, pretending to be cool and mysterious; but really everyone was absolutely buzzing to be joining a government agency. You could spot the actual astronauts a mile off, they have presence and… muscles, it was vaguely distracting. I was joining the on the ground tech team, an apprentice. I had to be honest with m...
Weekly Contest #38
The world was full of people that barely tolerated Benjamin James Reynolds. He spoke over people, he was clever and not humble about it. He took things apart without permission and he had an answer for everything. He never, ever said sorry. Benjamin James Reynolds was 11 and he was already the most infuriating person imaginable. He sat muttering to himself. Nimble little fingers twisted wires together, the harsh metal strands scratched his fingertips, but Benjamin didn’t notice. He was almost finished. A dismantled radio sat before him,...
1581, London, Richard Burbage I close the door as gently as possible, it’s wooden slats create a muffled thud as it meets the frame. An involuntary shiver runs through my body as I am assaulted by the deceptively brisk morning air, it is nearing spring, but winter's touch still lingers. He is persistent. It is barely sunrise and the fresh morning dew adorns every surface, as gems on the decorated decolletage of a rich maid. I debate, but for a brief second, risking returning to the house to add another layer. Deciding it is not worth the ris...
Weekly Contest #37
Vincent Marchant was staring. He tried his best not to. Unsuccessfully. Hugo Petrich was staring. There was a man who was just staring at him; not that it was unwanted attention. The man was perched, rather uncomfortably on a park bench. His trousers were slightly small, Hugo observed. They rode up past his ankles and crinkled at the bend of his knee. In comparison his shirt was slightly large, he’d rolled the cuffs up and the sleeves bunched at his elbows. It hung around his chest and shifted rhythmically in the gentle morning breeze. ...
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