“Prize 1” or “Prize 2”: Who Shall Win Which?!

Freeze!

I asked you when you’d pause time, if given the power and choice, and from among those who answered, we have a randomly-drawn prize winner. And that winner is … Jamie Ayres! Congratulations, Jamie! I can’t grant you the ability to hold time immobile, but I shall give you a One More Day 2014 wall calendar and signed One More Day bookmarks! Simply contact me with the address to which you’d like your goodies sent, and off they’ll go.

But hold on there, readers – don’t unfreeze yet! There’s still a winner to announce from my 200^th follower giveaway. And that winner is … Miranda McNeff! …a-a-and Kendra Conine! That’s right, two winners! Because all the rest of my followers evidently forgot to hit “post” on the doubtless marvelous comments that could have won them the prize. Whoopsies! So since I only logged in two eligible entries, what the hey, they can both get prizes. : ) Huzzah for you, Miranda and Kendra! In special thanks for being a part of my Ever On Word following, you shall each receive a signed word art print of my brand new “The Swan Prince”-related flash fiction piece entitled “Day Broken”.

As for all my lovely followers who didn’t win this time around, take heart: You may not get the print, but you’ll still get the story! In your honor, my 200+ friends, I give you the 200-word double drabble, “Day Broken”.

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Sunrise.

Sigmund dragged himself from water to land, shivering from the chill autumn air on his wet skin, and from remembrance of recent pain. Birds twittered above him, darting to and fro amongst the forest’s trees. No time to linger and envy them their carefree lives; it was hurry or be missed.

His long legs carried him, sure and silent, out of the woods and into the homely castle on a hill. No true castle, he thought with disdain. Home not to royalty, but common children, none with even a parent to their name. How had he come to this?

He slipped into his room shared with rows of softly snoring others, shed and secreted the clothes still damp from the lake, and lay down to pretend that his bed had been slept in – a quick act before the day’s performance to come, his the role of a boy who belonged in this lowly village setting.

With a sigh drawn from his very heart, Sigmund closed his eyes, awake but dreaming: Of tall towers over silvery waters, and a sunrise without pain. Of selfness, and freedom. Of the life he was born to live, and cursed to lose. For now.