The runners up this month are @books_things1 and @Jane_Conquest.  Both are tremendously talented young writers so do check out their work on their profile pages.  They deserve your support!

This chapter is dedicated to this month's guest judge, @Chonoa. Yay, Chonoa, thank you for your help!

And now, sit back, relax, and enjoy!

THE TOWER THAT STOOD by @books_things1

Marcus looked at Nolan from across the rug they were sitting on, a mischievous gleam in him eyes. "Legos," he breathed.

A slow smile spread on Nolan's face as he dumped the bucket of Legos on the rug and started building. Five minutes later, Nolan was getting a little bored of his blocky house. Marcus was still engrossed in his flying car, but he noticed Nolan's growing disinterest.

"Pleeease play with me," Marcus begged.

Nolan couldn't say no to his little brother, he was only six. "Fine Marcus, but I'm bored!"

"I have an idea!" Marcus squealed and threw his unfinished car into the bucket. "Let's make a giant tower, so strong and big that nothing will ever knock it down!"

And so their day went, stacking and restacking all the Legos they owned until the tower was as tall and stable as they could make it. Nolan had to admit, it was a pretty amazing tower, standing two feet tall.

Then, their dad walked into the room. He glared at the boys and started muttering to himself. Nolan could feel his father's displeasure for his sons rolling off in waves. His father finally stalked away again, leaving their precious tower still standing, as it always would.

ACCIDENT by @Jane_Conquest

*MARCUS POV*

Marcus stares, his bottom lip quivering with anger, at the despicable, detestable, selfish, stupid, putrid blob of human flesh sitting before him, a pipe of tobacco lolling out of the corner of his foul-smelling mouth.

"I said no," he growls, the same terrifying, throaty sound Marcus has heard all his life.  Instead of frightening him, however, it only enrages him more. "You'll only get yourself killed."

"You don't care about me," Marcus spits. Nolan, seated next to him, startles at his brother's abrupt show of defiance. "You care about your precious automobile more."

"Maybe so," his father smirks evilly. "So what?" Marcus shoots to his feet so fast his chair topples over behind him. Screaming in frustration, he storms up to his room and slams the door shut behind him.

Nolan soon follows and attempts to calm him down, but Marcus has already made up his mind. That night, when the neighborhood is dark and the tobacco runs out, Marcus slips out the window and into the front yard.

His fingers trembling with the key in the ignition, the engine of his father's car soon roars to life. Not wasting any time Marcus backs out of the driveway and speeds down the road, the bottles of beer in the passenger side beside him clinking as he careens down the freeway. Marcus rolls down the window and smiles at his reflection in the mirror. This will teach that fat bastard that he can't control anything.

Marcus reaches a stoplight and slams down on the breaks.

Nothing happens.

Frantically, Marcus jabs the breaks with his feet as a telephone pole gets closer and closer to the speeding vehicle. He peers down for a millisecond and finds a familiar pipe wedged in between the machinery and the breaks.

Then everything goes black.