This is written for The Lavern Games, which you should totally check out! http://www.movellas.com/story/201607101652204721-the-lavern-games#201607172302536891
Selected task: Write a romance less than 1500 words between two inanimate objects.
The bookmark still remembered the day upon which it had come into existence. At first, there was darkness, and silence, and a dull awareness of the world around it.
When the light came, it was sudden and burning - and with the light came the voices, piercing through the bookmark's metal skin and exploding in the room around it, eternal as it throbbed and pulsed and thrived, a painful concoction of voices and the groaning of machines. Finally, there was darkness again - a box, before the light came back in a shop where there were voices by day and an eerie silence that was somehow more deafening at night.
It seemed like an age before the girl came into the shop, her eyes cocooning the bookmark in an embrace of curiosity of interest, before she carried it to the counter, sliding a few coins onto the desk as she slipped the bookmark into her bag.
That night, the girl removed it from her bag and curled up on her bed, picking up a book - there had been some in the shop - and when she finished reading a few pages, she slipped the bookmark into the book, flicking off her light and setting the book on her desk before letting sleep engulf her.
For once, the silence was not overwhelming - it was not seeping with loneliness, but with words, flowing from the pages into the bookmark, brimming with love and emotion and wonder, whispering to it of other worlds and valiant heroes, singing a melody of adventure and romance and tales that filled the bookmark with wonder and hope and every emotion that swelled within humans.
And the book kept singing and whispering and giving, savouring every moment, listening to the thoughts of the bookmark as every word danced between them, breaking every boundary and bringing the book purpose, a friend, and slowly, something more.
Every night the girl read a few pages, and the bookmark came to love the rustling of pages, the kisses of the stories as the girl reunited them both. The bookmark's sanctuary was within the pages, nestled within the world of words. And the book loved the cooling touch of the bookmark, reminding it every moment that it could inspire and give courage amidst a storm of solitude and fear.
They were intertwined, united, giving one another purpose and joy every moment they were together, and when the girl finally reached the last page of the book, so many nights after she had started, something swept from the pages and the bookmark and into her heart, and she realised that the bookmark belonged there. On the last page, within the haven of its happy ending, to remind her that she could have her own.
And the bookmark stayed there, always, and the words never grew dull, and the book held it, always, and the bookmark always reminded it of everything the girl had thought and done because of the stories.
Together, they were beautiful.