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Dark Fort: The Shortest Story Ever Told
Hannah, Age 14, Birmingham

It was a dark, dreary night and the whispers of the wind crept under Dark Fortís great solid oak doors. Spiders clambered into the foundations of the crumbling wall and spun their webs as a trap for the feasting flies, filling their insect bodies with the table scraps of the great hall, that neither the dogs nor their masters wished to consume. A deadly silence washed over the fortress as if mourning for the captured, locked inside unable to reach the keys to their freedom that would unlock their fate.

The silence was suddenly broken by an echoing of feet rushing down the stone stairs slippy and green with moss like slime. A young man delirious with the strong wine he had been drinking appeared. He was of strong, stocky appearance and took most challenges onto his belt. He staggered across the floor clawing to reach for the knife that had skewered him in his back. He dropped to the floor. The silence echoed until it, too, died away.

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