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constantly chasing after it
the idea that keeps the flame alive
always in vision
don’t blink too long
it may disappear
swallowed by shadows
doubts that demise
By Ryan Lathem on 11.26.2017
I will hold
on to you as long as
I have a hand to hold
The prize is on the stage. A golden cup on a wooden base, school crests around it.
The headmaster holds it up above his head. We have to strain our necks back even further to look up at it.
“And the winner of this year’s sports prize is….”
By Ferdinand URL on 11.26.2017
And just what does the victor get? What exactly is her prize? She’s exhausted, feels defeated, despite being tantalized. A victor feels defeated! What irony is this? Come, hand her this sweet plastic trophy – temporary bliss. Perhaps we’ll get a picture of her husband and a kiss. The spoils will be arriving soon – there’s nothing to be missed.
By Belinda Roddie URL on 11.26.2017
Here’s the treasure. We’ve been out of breath for almost an hour, running towards it; what was once a sliver of gold sparkling in the distance is now gleaming in the palms of our hands. It’s simultaneously cool and warm, and sending a shiver through my body.
By Nika on 11.26.2017
Reading between the senses and evaluating the ventures of here and there and probably a life spent winning time so sublime as a bell prize.
By Robert Kohlhammer on 11.27.2017
Winning is not supposed to be everything. But when the prize is something such as this it is hard not to be all consumed by the possibility of taking first place
By Jaz on 11.27.2017
She lifted it above her head, triumphant. Her mom laughed and ushered her away from the booth, thanking the man behind the counter. “I won, I won, I won, I won,” Lizzie chanted with each step through the crowd.
By Bridget Grace URL on 11.27.2017
i like prizes i win them a lot i like to win things and i like to win prizes i once got a prize from my grandma after she died my mum called it an inheritence but i know it was a prize for living longer than her.
By Freddie McYerp on 11.27.2017
Being the best at what I do. I want to win that prize, I trained hard for it and I will show everybody that I am good at what I do. Years of people pointing their fingers at me. Years of sweat and tears. And finally, this race. This single day. And everything narrows down on this scene. Those 50 meters.
By dreamweaver on 11.27.2017
The prize was mine. I had purchased the raffle ticket partly on a whim, and partly out of a sense of obligation to my niece. There was really no thought that I might actually win. So now I’ve got a six foot plush panda to deal with – wonder if they’ll give me the cash value?
By Creepy_Snowman URL on 11.27.2017
Someone says that holding a heart, especially one of someone you love, is the same as winning a prize at a carnival: incredibly painstakingly difficult, and on the off chance it’s accomplished, it’s bullshit luck or cheating. I wouldn’t necessarily agree, but it’s an interesting concept, is it not?
By adreamer URL on 11.27.2017
I won a prize at the State ball for being the best dancer.
By Mackenzie on 11.27.2017
It was dark. The snow fell in a little pattern around her face as she gazed into the sky. The stars always seemed to draw her in, twinkling in patterns and clouds drifted in and out infant of her. Seeing them was like a prize, getting a gold star for every constellation she could find.
By Grace on 11.27.2017
a division of Identity Crisis, Inc.