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Short Story Winners

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message 1: by [deleted user] (new)

Week 1 Winner: Emily

There was nothing left but the frame. I took a shuddering breath as I stepped inside what remained of my house. Everything had been scorched by the flames. The tears trickled down my face as I drowned in despair. Of course, I was the only one who survived. I had disobeyed my parents' orders and snuck out anyways. My sisters, my brother, my parents, my house... gone.

The dirt and debris crunched under my feet as I glanced around for something to keep. I stopped suddenly as something flashed by my eye. I turned around and bent down towards a picture frame. My mother and father with my three siblings and I. Our family portrait, scorches blotching some of it out from where the fire got it. I felt the tears grow stronging as I hugged the frame to my body. There was a sharp pain in my chest as I yanked the picture frame away. The glass covering the picture was broken; shattered. Oh, no.

"Hey, look at this!" I ran over to the voice of a man escorting me back to see if there was anything that survived. He held out his hand to a burnt wooden flap. The basement! I thought enthusicastically as I yanked it open and clammered down.

The fire had mysteriously missed here. The room was empty, though; we had used it as a storage room instead. Rummaging through boxes, I found certain special things that had been locked away with no more use for them. I held back sobs as I held them all close to me.

But then there was the chest. A chest I had never seen. After a struggle, I successfully opened it up and eagerly looked inside. A porcelian (spelling?) doll with a crack running around it's eye; a picture of my parents' first date; a baseball glove. More miscellanous items were cluttered inside, but then I found something. A video tape.

I took it to where I was staying and put it into the TV. I was on the screen. "How's my big seven-year-old doing?" my father asked.

"Great!" I cheered back.

"What are you doing?"

"Playing fashion model who's also a doctor who's also an astronaut who's also--"

He laughed. "You're a lot of things, aren't you?"

"Yeah!" I chimed back.

"Will you always believe in your dreams?"

"Well, duh!"

He laughed again. "Will you always love your daddy and mommy and brother and baby sister?"

"Yeah!" I remembered that my other sister wasn't born yet.

"Say goodbye to the camera!" Dad told me.

"Goodbye! I love you!"

The video clicked off. I took a shuddering sigh. I had grown very depressed since I started high school two years ago. I got into drugs, always thought badly of myself; my grades started falling, and I belived in nothing. The only family I have left don't want me.

I didn't love my family.

I always felt suicidal.

And I realized I was like all those things in that chest.

Like that picture frame on the ground.

I was a shattered memory.


message 2: by [deleted user] (new)

Week 4 Winner: MagiCal


They’re watching me.
The polished leather.
It isn’t even scuffed, practically giving off a shine.
The soles are in perfect condition; not worn, or marked.
And only one thing stands in my way.


That shiny, bright red price tag.


$ 24.99.


I want them.
I need them.

Matthias Eltia walks into the store, his gaze darting around nervously as if he’s prey. “Can I help you?” A saleswoman asks, approaching him. The huntress has pounced; Matthias looks startled. “I – I’m fine,” he stutters, pushing his glasses up higher on the bridge of his nose. The huntress smiles at him, showing perfect white teeth, delicately pointed, reminding Matthias of fangs. “If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.” She walks towards another victim, asking them the same question. Hunt. Interrogate. Seduce. Charm. Pounce. Kill.

She has it down to an art.

No doubt she’s done it a thousand times before.

Beads of sweat have started to form on Matthias’ forehead, and he walks quietly over to the shoes. He watches the huntress for a few minutes, and when she’s busy he reaches down, quiet quiet quiet, and rips the price tag off, ever so gently. She turns around, scanning the jungle for another quarry.

When the coast is clear again, he sits down, trying on those perfect shoes.

And then he stands up, and he’s smiling now. And he walks out.
The huntress calls after him, saying, “Sir! You can’t leave without paying for those!” But Matthias ignores her. The feeling has passed; he no longer feels hunted.

And he walks, in those bright, shiny new shoes, suddenly seeing the flowers sprouting on the side of the road. The sun seems brighter; the buildings less ominous. And then Matthias is staring down a gun barrel, not even realizing what’s happened. “Give me the jacket. And the shoes, too,” the man commands in a gruff voice. Matthias takes off the jacket carefully, handing it to him. “Not the shoes.”

A gunshot rings out.

I want them.
I need them.


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