Jennifer Newton

“Window to the Heart” by Jennifer Newton

Submitted to Contest #239

(Contains themes of depression and an instance of eye horror.) Forty-five degrees. A right angle. Inversion, and then reflection. Her fingers clutched the canvas and stained its spines in a panoply of hues as she twisted the angles, attempting to make sense of what she saw. She did it a hundred and one times, attempting to see every angle and every possible interpretation of her work. How long had she bee...

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“The Inkwell” by Jennifer Newton

Inebriation can rob more than merely senses. It can rob you of your friends, your coin, your health, and should it be such a companion it will rob you of your world. Conrad stumbled down the sidewalk, lights screaming at him from above as the thundering of steps below aggravated a burgeoning nausea. Ragged hands tugged tight a green jacket close to dissuade the cold, a splash of color against the muted fo...

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“Whistlin Boreas” by Jennifer Newton

Submitted to Contest #232

A fogged eye hung high above the snowy archipelago, for once its vision crystal clear with nary a cloud in sight. The sea surrounding reflected countless lights, spiraling galactic arms which played home to Earth. And in a flash, they were gone, as a bright flood lamp stole away the stars.The crunch of ice turned to the deep thuds upon preserved concrete. Boreal winds sang through the unearthed structures, stripped bare by calamity and clocks. From the dark strode a figure, taller and larger than any human man, one who s...

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“The Flight of Prometheus” by Jennifer Newton

Submitted to Contest #232

At the base of a grand mountain hid a humble home of mud brick and thatch doors, of wooden floor and the fitful form who tread a rut into its surface. He was not made of flesh so much as he was comprised entirely of worry; mere moments prior he came to realize that his dear brother was in the middle of doing something very, very foolish. Worry, and revelations that came far too late - this was the meat and bone of the ...

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“The Shape in the Mist” by Jennifer Newton

Submitted to Contest #230

A low cloud had coiled across a barren landscape with nothing but the black scars of trees and the shed husks of stone to define it. The rolling fog had both graced the weeds and fearfully scattered the light, banishing both shadow and clarity. Then stumbling through came a figure. The wisping cover obscured everything but the vaguest of shapes - humanoid with a limping gait, one arm clutching another ...

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