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Weekly Contest #303
I deal with souls for a living. I welcome them, sort them, condemn them. You probably think that makes me the bad guy. But I’d ask that you politely hold your judgment. Because this isn’t the life I wanted. I didn’t have a choice. *** My first memory? My father — Kronos — holding me in the air, smiling up at his newborn son. And then he swallowed me whole. (Yeah. You read that right.) He’d heard whispers of a prophecy — that one of his children would rise up and overthrow him, just as he had overthrown his father (turns out daddy issues...
Weekly Contest #301
Being a princess sucked. Wake up. Look presentable. Act perfect. Sip tea with distant relatives who never cared enough to remember your name. Repeat. It was a life of bland, beige luxury—the emotional equivalent of wet toast. And Princess Atria had spent all 23 years of it quietly dying inside embroidered corsets and conversations with suitors who blinked too slowly and came too quickly. There was no danger. No excitement. No chance of being tied to the bedpost and tongued down with confident gusto. So, with that horrifying future looming ah...
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