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Weekly Contest #260
He gazed absently at the black kettle, his reflection looking back at him like a stranger. Nice cup of tea. That’s what we need. A faint humming of a song and the sound of light footsteps on the floorboards above him made him smile. He noticed the whistle of the kettle, as it screeched louder and louder, vapours fading away in the sunlight. Realisation struck; she must have put the kettle on. Of course, she did. Of course, she did. How kind. How thoughtful. The dawn broke in a pool on the window, seeping in through the cracks and ...
Weekly Contest #29
Mother said she liked Emma best. Emma was the nice one. The one gifted with manners that could make a monarchy jealous— with a voice so sweet, it could draw in the bees. I told her Emma was the sort of girl who skipped in fields of barley, and lay beneath the sun’s rays until it rained. Then dance for a while, until she arrived home with her dress sheer, and sticking to her skin. In secret, I envied her. She was everything I was not. While she was full of life, I was miserable in mine. Where she saw colours, I saw grey. I wished I could...
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