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Submitted to Contest #91
It's too bad, I thought, that it is not possible to send back a library book from my home to the library via pneumatic tube. I grabbed my mouse (the computer mouse, not my pet, Harpo) opened my Outlook calendar and reviewed the day's activity, and, as each square and each slot was packed with text, it seemed that every moment of my time was more than fully booked from now until Kingdom Come. In the mean time, there was the matter of my sinking reputation with the town librarian – I could just see her disapproving frown – and a steadily accru...
Submitted to Contest #88
As a music box played a soft but melancholy tune, Moonbeam dreamed of the masquerade ball the king was throwing that night. She had no gown, only a drab dress of coarse fabric and nondescript color. She did have a mask, a white sequined mask with upright bunny ears. She put it on and looked at herself in the mirror. Her clothes might have been humble, but she had a crowning glory of golden ringlets that fell to her waist. With the mask on, one could still see the beauty of her rosy lips, but her eyes and her very identity were hidden. It was...
Submitted to Contest #87
“They somehow look more impressive on canvas,” said my roommate, Ryan, standing beside me and staring at the three easels and what was propped on them. “And in frames,” he added. “As opposed to the prototypes?” I asked. I sipped my black Gevalia coffee. Ryan scratched his head, fluffing his sandy blond hair. “I don't think it's called a prototype in regard to painting.” “Preliminary drawings then?” “I think they're called 'studies,'” said Ryan. “I think you're right,” I said. “I don't think the artist studied too much, do you?” “...
Submitted to Contest #86
Monday, one week before the judging for the Annual Honeyville Community Garden Competition“Seamus! Seamus, get out of my garden!” I took chase after my neighbor's wheaten terrier who was now racing in circles around my bird and butterfly sanctuary. With each rotation, he chased away another goldfinch and another butterfly. It was a futile exercise, running in circles after a beast that was more agile than a ninja and faster than the Roadrunner escaping Wile E. Coyote. Suddenly, my foot slipped, and I did a full face plant in the grass, still...
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