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Weekly Contest #346
The horse’s hooves pounded against the highway with gunshot ferocity tossing back bits of gravel and tar and quitting a burning plume of dust in the blue. Atop the horse was a man somehow both lean and brolic, his hat tipped, his nose pointed towards the sun and silhouetted. If he could hear over their thunderous gait he would hear sirens. He knew he would have to turn off the road and get hid. In front of him was road and blue but beside him was all green and brown and the greybeige of death and desiccated underbrush. His eyes scanned the ...
Weekly Contest #344
The crowd exploded in its bursts of discontent. This struck him with the pain of embarrassment. There was a tickle in his throat from his screaming and his heart burned. His mind wandered, staring at the soldiers for a moment in his own wake, to basic training. In his nose, the scent of gun-oil, the pang of fattened steel, and the sweat of men in uniform. Their sebaceous musk lingered heavily, creating a perfumed cocktail of Apollonian might. In his mind’s eye, he dreamt of this delicious scent and the safety it provided. No, the safety it g...
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