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Weekly Contest #93
It started long ago, back further then our memories can stretch, to when our two worlds were no longer one. In a kingdom, long ago, in a forgotten city, in a castle, long since torn down by time and nature, was a king. This king was not like the kings who had gone before him. They were wise and brave and merciful, but he was cunning and foolhardy and cruel. Yet, the kingdom prospered, the city grew and spread, like an ink stain on parchment, inching closer and closer to the forest, until it was only a stone’s throw away from the city walls...
Weekly Contest #91
What I’m about to tell you is going to sound weird. I mean really weird. But it happened. I almost envy you, not living through it. Being blissfully unaware. But I need to tell you and you need to believe me or it will just happen all over again. It began when me and my friend were in the campus library ‘working.’ And by ‘working’, I mean we had our books open in front of us, of course, but we were really procrastinating and doing anything which didn’t involve having to read about Carl Jung’s mirror theory. We thought we were being quiet, b...
Weekly Contest #90
Everything looks fragile in winter. Fulsome trees shrivel into dry, skeletal things. The grass and flowers and weeds are crystallised by frozen dew drops. They look so brittle, as if they could shatter at the merest touch. But I love this time of year. The air feels so crisp and clean and new, the cold so frigid it burns your cheeks. The spell is broken, though, by the time I’m waiting for my train back home from college. I’ve lost all feeling in my toes, which are numbed senseless by the cold in my new shoes, already splattered with m...
Weekly Contest #86
“I don’t know how you can like it there so much.” “What do you mean?” She gestures at the grove before them, “It’s beautiful.” “It’s morbid, is it what it is.” “You’re morbid,” she laughs and stoops down to caress a budding crocus. “Spring is coming, bringing new life, even here…” She trails off wistfully, gazing at the dome above them, the sunlight filtering through hazily. “Besides,” she turns to face him, “It’s not like I have much choice, do I?” He turns away, “I know. I’m sorry, Celeste, I’m just feeling frustrated and…” “I’m sorry, I ...
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