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Weekly Contest #120
When I walk through the obsidian halls of my family’s home, I keep my eyes on the floor as my siblings pass by. Some leave trails of light behind them while others creep by like shadows, and I shiver as their fingers brush my shoulders. I leave no traces as I make my way down the hall. No one will smile at my light or recoil at my presence. The soles of my bare feet should echo and slap against the hard surface but instead my tread is silent. My sister once told me that my siblings are jealous of my ability to silently approach, to curl...
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