Prose that Blows Runner-Up: Most Original Story

Wicked Game

Aether Price flew through the afternoon sky, her blue eyes tracing a route along the rooftops toward the building targeted in her police scanner’s latest dispatch. Already she could see the halo of emergency vehicles surrounding it, and with a swish of her arms, another gust of air filled her gold cape and propelled her swiftly onward.

She landed beside a flashing squad car, her blonde bobcut swishing in the breeze. The police captain ran over to greet her.

Average: 3.2 (6 votes)

Vinylady vs. The Penetrator

Vinylady floated imposingly over the battered bad guy. “It should help you in court that the launch codes aren’t compromised,” she reassured him. Her pink and black day costume shone wetly in the noonday sun.

As federal agents dragged Captain Klepto off, however, he cackled, “No, but you will be!”

Average: 3.7 (6 votes)

Stiff Lower Lip

Dougal Macintosh, renowned mesmerist, dashingly swept through the Empire’s second city in his stylish black cape. Since Princess Victoria’s convenient demise, his family’s pneumatics concerns had risen dirigible-like through the smoky vapours of Glaswegian society. One brother devised the Pneumatic Analytical Engine, and the other headed the North British Atmospheric Railway Corporation, whose air-driven carriages vigorously thrust through the tunnels beneath the former Dear Green Place. Yet beneath his dark brocaded waistcoat beat a heart of jet-black dastardliness.

Average: 3.5 (8 votes)

Christmas Protocol

“I said no.”

“C’mon,” I whined. “We’re both adults. Let’s do the presents now.”

“No!” cried Carol. “I told you, it’s only fun if you follow protocol.”

“There’s Christmas protocol?” I asked in disbelief.

Average: 4.1 (12 votes)

I've Got a Magic Wand

“Hey, great costume. Gonna pull a rabbit outta that hat, Mandrake?”

“Thanks. Magician’s kinda cliché, bit of a busman’s holiday for me, but I had the cape and hat from work. You look great too. Larry Lawnchair, complete with balloons. Nice. I like the way they bobble as you dance.”

“Work? What? Sorry, I can hardly hear you over the music. Yeah, Larry’s a bit of a hero of mine.”

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t know. Just that kind of follow your dreams thing.”

Average: 2.8 (9 votes)


The hotdog was starting to kick in. A second go on the dodgems held no appeal. She agreed to meet her friends by the ferris wheel when they were done, accepting care of their balloons without so much as a blush to betray her pleasure at receiving so many lofty charges, their upward tugging giving her tingles.

Meandering past the booths and stalls, she rounded a corner to be arrested by a strange tableau.

Average: 3.5 (8 votes)


“Two Puffers coming up!” Sofia smiled as she cooked. Get the dough, inject the filling, deep fry, listen to the ooohs as the filling puffed up, spray powered sugar and another heart attack ready to go. As the family walked off she leaned forward and sighed. The job wasn’t horrible, but working an amusement park food stand was not a career. She never got bored at any rate; people seemed to love those fried dough balls, although Sofia suspected they liked seeing them puff up more then the taste. She had tried them and blarg, probably gained weight just by being near the fryers.

Average: 3.6 (7 votes)
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