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Weekly Contest #380
Remy stood in the room again. It was already full. Boxes were stacked from floor to ceiling, crowded and leaning, in every shape and size imaginable. Some were small enough to clutch to the chest, while others were so large they sagged beneath their own weight. The room had no windows. It had no lock either, which was the cruel part. What would stop something escaping? Remy’s stomach hurt at the thought. Each box bore a label written in Remy’s own hand. Or rather, by versions of it. Some labels were written in the careful, uneven scrawl of a...
Weekly Contest #378
The Albatross Hotel stands at the bottom of a lane off Gower Street, wedged between a tobacconist and a building that has been three different banks. It has twenty-two rooms, a lift that apologises when it stops, and a laminated sign on the door of Room 9 that says OUT OF ORDER. It has said so, in one handwriting or another, since 1947. Nothing is wrong with the room, except that it is haunted. I haunt it. My name is Hesper Ludd. I died on the second floor in 1947 of a chest complaint, very politely. I told the proprietor I was fine and that...
I got to Tom’s a just at midnight, the moon hanging low, sinking below the range. The turn-off was where it always was, past the dead stringybark and the hand-painted sign for eggs nobody had sold in years. I had meant to be there by dinner. I remembered the bend before the bridge, the guardrail bright in my lights, and then I remembered gravel under the tyres. Long drives did that. Some other part of you took over the middle and handed back the ending. The four-hour drive was gone. I tried to recall any part of it. Nothing. I shrugged it of...
Weekly Contest #283
Dougal McCoogan had made it. Finally, after walking for weeks, through blizzards and blinding cold, he had done it. The dishevelled, skinny boy looked down on the scene below him with a definite sense of pride and smiled. The North Pole was exactly like he though it would be. No, this is not the story of a boy explorer trekking in the wilderness. That is just incidental to our tale. And the north pole Dougal was now staring at is probably not the one you have seen in pictures. I am not sure you know this, but there is in fact three different...
Weekly Contest #257
Castus was deep in the ancient wood, it had been a long, difficult journey, but now it was close to done. He smiled. It quickly turned to a grimace as pain shot through his face. He may never be able to see out of his left eye again, a dirty white handkerchief serving as an eye patch, wrapped roughly around his head, but as he might not live past lunch it seemed of little consequence. At least Castus thought it was morning, and from the hunger pains he felt, probably close to lunch. It seemed oddly cruel that his last meal might have been mo...
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