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Weekly Contest #363
Der VaterloseBavaria to the Arizona Territory, 1829–1856 He stood at the rail and watched Germany disappear.It was the third of December, 1848, and the sky over Bremerhaven was the color of old pewter and the wind off the Weser smelled of salt and rot and the particular cold of a winter that intended itself seriously. The ship was a bark called the Steinadler, three-masted, riding low with two hundred and eleven souls in steerage and a captain named Foss who had made this crossing fourteen times and regarded his passengers with the flat pro...
Weekly Contest #362
The Last Supper of Thomas DadeArizona Territory, Autumn 1867 He knew.He had known since morning, the way you know weather before it arrives, something in the pressure of the air, something in the way the others moved around him with that particular carefulness men adopt when they are managing a secret the secret already knows about itself. Richter had not looked at him directly since sunup. Calhoun had been too quiet. Even Prospero, who smiled at everything and meant none of it, had kept his face arranged in a neutrality that cost him somet...
Weekly Contest #361
One Thing LeftArizona Territory, Summer 1867His name before was Callum Drey and he did not use it anymore.He had left it in a farmhouse outside of Tucson with the man who had given him most of his scars and he did not think of it as killing so much as a correction, the way you correct an error in arithmetic, drawing a line through it and moving on. The stepfather's name had been Orville Marsh and he had come into Callum's life when Callum was nine and his mother was still hopeful about things, and Orville had extinguished that hope the way y...
Weekly Contest #358
Der LäuferA Story of the Arizona Territory, 1863 The wagon train came apart in the late afternoon.It was the kind of light that made the desert look like something holy, all copper and bleeding red, the mountains in the distance black against a sky that had no business being so beautiful. Elsa Brandt had said so that very morning, standing at the tailgate with her hands on her hips, squinting west. Schau mal, Hans. Schau dir das an. Look at that. And Hans Brandt had looked and agreed it was something and gone back to checking the wheel brac...
Weekly Contest #331
StrawberryThe coffee steamed in the cold air, curling up past Eli's weathered face like the ghost of something warm trying to escape. He watched it rise and disappear into the gray morning, then set the cup down on the little table between the wicker chairs. His hat came off next—that old black felt that had seen more seasons than some of the horses in his barn—and he placed it carefully in the empty chair beside him, the way a man might set down a companion.Two days of snow now. Heavy stuff, the kind that fell slow and fat and made the worl...
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