Good Morning, Prosers,

The way publishers find new authors might have just changed forever.

We are pleased to announce that we have joined forces with publishing giant Simon & Schuster, whose legacy includes Ernest Hemingway, Carrie Fisher, and Stephen King.

Simon & Schuster’s editing team hopes to discover the next generation of great authors by utilising our challenge feature and our social community, initially through a 500-2000 word writing challenge that ends June 1, prompting you to, “Write a story, chapter, or essay about whatever you like. The 50 best entries will be announced by Prose and read by Simon & Schuster’s editorial staff for consideration.”

This challenge stipulates a minimum of 500 entries and a maximum of 2,000.

We will announce the top-50 entries on June 21, 2017.

Here is the challenge URL: https://theprose.com/challenge/5367

We hope you are as excited about this as we are. If you know people who would like to get noticed by Simon & Schuster, spread the word(s).

Until next time, Prosers,

Prose.

I am made of paper

Like the little cut outs people made in elementary school

In my purest form, I was a strong tree standing tall

I was a marvel of nature

I was turned into paper

Chopped down, shredded, and bleached

Lined with blue horizontal lines so I stay on the track they have given me

Lined with two red vertical lines to keep me inside their boundaries 

Covered in invisible scars from where they pressed to hard on the paper on top of me

There's ink on my paper that I put there

A path with a moon cause I've only ever known to walk in darkness

An anchor to remind me why I stay

And a word to take all the invisible scars away

I am made of fire

It flows through my veins

I am a creater and destroyer 

But I've learned to simmer it

Because they didn't like it when it lashed out and seared them

I am made of mountains

The places I've called home

Paper is flimsy and my fire is dying

But mountains are made of stone 

You can see them hiding in my cheekbones

Or when I set my jaw

I am mighty, I am unmovable, and I am strong

My origins are pure nature

Mauled by mankind. 

You read the last text for the seventh time with a sigh. You said it finally. You were finished being hurt. You didn't want that relationship anymore. You'd hoped a reply would come quickly, but it doesn't, so you threw your phone down and turned on TV. An infomercial was on and the remote was somewhere between Timbuktu and Atlantis. You sighed and watched a blonde lady demonstrate how non-stick the copper pan is and talk about the chemical make up of it. Somewhere in between, you fall asleep, oblivious to your phone ringing.

Dead is the first word you notice on the text. Your ex's mother has been texting you non-stop trying to get you to go see them before everything was said and done. But, by the time you awoke, your ex's last breath had been taken. The white bag was already sealed by the time you pull your jacket on and grab your keys. Driving, you could barely control your emotions. Everything that had hurt you felt so trivial compared to death. The death of someone you still had feelings for. Yes, the bad feelings were probably overshadowed by the guilt that loomed over you. You were the last text they'd seen. This was your fault.

At the hospital, the mother said they were trying to get to you when their car was stuck by another. It caused a pile-up and eight people had actually died. Your ex had been texting you, well trying to, while driving. You peered at your phone and gasped. Ten messages, the latter half misspelled and jumbled, were blinking on your phone. Baby, I miss you. I love you. I'll be better. I'll do anything to be with you. I was so stupid. please aswer. I ned yu. I catn lvie wiouy uo. you al iw gpt. You closed your eyes, tears rushing into them.  The words of a ghost will forever haunt you. 

"It wasn't your fault," your ex's mother said, pulling you into her arms. You could tell she didn't even believe her own words.