“Pride. The scent por butch, pour femme, pour non-binaire.”
It stank like bed-sweat, months after requiring a change of sheets, but with a gentle lilt of ripe apples after a summer rain. The tart musk hit like a curse, but the immediate familiarity of it pulled him in deeper. He inhaled desperately to keep chasing that soft bitter-sweetness beneath, as though burying his face into the pillow of a departed lover.
Love. Any colour, taste, or feel of it. We all love. For Valentine’s day 2018 our prompt was to write any short piece about romance or love, with the strict rule of not being cynical about it (for, in our edginess we often resort to treating it scathingly and mishandling love in our creative writing). I wanted to show that love, earnest love, could still be both happy and sad, without being cynical.
Volume in drive A is BOOTDISK Volume Serial Number is 0X14-4RN Directory of A:\ CONFIG SYS 0 30-01-2018 2:40p HELP SYS 22 23-09-2016 7:09a LIFE COM 42,000 28-01-2017 12:00p 3 files(s) 42,022 bytes 0 drive(s) 24,644 bytes free A:\>_ A:\>run LIFE +——————————————————————————–+ |
He wasn’t happy. He’d had enough of being teased by the others; always the butt of their jokes, always mocked and teased. He got it wrong. What an idiot. What a moron. What a dummy. They’d lived together amicably for a long time now. When they all first met they thought they’d
From the top? Okay, officers. I weren’t even anywhere near the bank at the time. Which bank? And when was this again? This morning? No, certainly not this morning. Why would I need to go to the bank so early? Nobody goes to the bank that early, especially not me. Besides, I don’t even
I have seen people crossing the river; some have reached the far bank, some began to cross a while after I started, but everyone crosses the river. For many people the river is wide, and their journey across is a long one. A few people cross where the river is narrow, and reach the other
‘Hero, you are our last hope against the evils of tyranny.’ Next. ‘The forces of Dark Sorcerer Xashar have descended on our peaceful realm, murdering our village folk and sapping this land of its natural resources.’ Next. ‘Will you lend us your strength and help vanquish this villain that holds dominion over us?’ Accept. ‘Thank
There were imperfections.
The eyelashes were too uniform, and a heavier grade than the hair. It shouldn’t have bothered him, but he spent so much of his time seeing them up close. The eyes, however, were perfect. Expensive. Worth every cent. The fabricated recreation was, to him, breathtaking. Breath.
I thought I would have a go at a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure gimmick, using the infinitely enjoyable Microsoft PowerPoint. I stuck to the most traditional tropes of the genre; dark cave fantasy, brimming with consequence and peril. There is a way out, and the path to failure is littered with clues and advice for an eventual success (and escape!)