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Weekly Contest #319
The line stretches out across a bleak breaking dawn. It should embody beginnings and life, but instead, to me, it has become a herald of preternatural death. When I lived, I imagined death to ride in on a dark horse or a black storm cloud. Yet, lavender and golden light signals a march to the shade beneath my canopy. The line on the horizon begins to form into distinct shapes of maybe 10 individuals. Their clothes and breath both hung raggedly from their bodies. Over the years I had seen almost all types of persons. Some people would beg, so...
Weekly Contest #318
Patented brown leather shoes squeaked down the hallway in a grating tone overshadowing the swish, swish of vestments. The offensive shoes drew Christine’s attention- ugly and dinged up. They were mottled from years of wear in rain or shine of the rapid swings in Ohio weather- having splashed through slush outside on the sidewalk flanking the church while shaking hands lingeringly with wealthy parishioners or the mud of field day before school blessedly let out. The hideous shoes hidden under bleached and pure white robes halted in front of o...
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