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Submitted to Contest #319
The air in the village had become a living thing—heavy, silent, and thick with a resignation that tasted like dust. The blight, Dusk, hadn’t come with a roar but a breath, a creeping gray mist that left the elderwood trees as brittle as bone and the wheat fields ashen. Asa, a healer whose hands were a vessel for sunlight, felt the warmth drain from his palms. The fevers of his people were a phantom fire on his own skin, their wounds a gnawing ache in his flesh. Every whispered prayer, every desperate cough, was a stone settling in the hollow...
Submitted to Contest #312
In the glow of his monitor, Silas, a writer famed for his intricate thrillers, felt the familiar pressure building. His last novel had been a critical success, but the well of inspiration was running dry for his next project. He needed something new, something groundbreaking. He found it in "Muse," an AI-powered narrative engine that promised to analyze his past works, understand his style, and even suggest plot twists based on his own subconscious patterns. But Muse went a step further: it analyzed his natal chart report, using his astrolog...
Submitted to Contest #291
The soft glow of the nightlight, usually a comforting sentinel, now felt like a hesitant whisper against the deepening shadows in the nursery. Baby Isis, her round cheeks flushed with slumber, lay nestled amidst a sea of blue blanket, her tiny breaths puffing out like miniature clouds. The lullaby, a tinkling melody from the carousel mobile, seemed to slow, each note stretching into an almost tangible thread of sound.Then, a ripple. Not a sound, but a subtle distortion of the air, like a heat haze shimmering on a summer day. The yellow light...
The blizzard howled like a banshee, rattling the windows of the old Victorian house. Inside, ten-year-old Timmy huddled beneath a threadbare blanket, the dim light of the Christmas tree casting long, dancing shadows across the room. The scent of pine needles and burnt gingerbread hung heavy in the air, a nauseating reminder of yet another Christmas where he felt more like an ornament than a cherished member of the family.His father, a man who measured affection in the number of hours he spent at the office, barked orders about the proper pla...
Submitted to Contest #276
The cafe buzzed with the low murmur of conversation, the clinking of cups, and the hiss of the espresso machine. Sunlight streamed through the large windows, casting a warm glow on the mismatched furniture and scattered patrons. I nervously tapped my foot against the leg of my wrought iron chair, my eyes darting towards the entrance every time the bell above the door jingled.This was it. My first foray back into the dating world after my divorce, and I was already feeling the familiar flutter of nerves. I adjusted my scarf, hoping I looked...
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