Monthly Archives: March 2013

Yet Another Face Story (Part III)

Continued from Yet Another Face Story (Part II).

“Oh, there you are, Dag.  Good morning.”

Dag became tense.  Was that Face’s voice?  He rose from his knees and spun.  His hand darted to the knife at his side.  Before his eyes Face stood, unharmed. “Wait, I thought you fell out of the window!” He furrowed his brows in confusion and stepped toward the youth.

“Yes, you did push me out the window,” the boy scoffed. “That was very rude, you know.  I ought to request you quit as my bodyguard.  It’s rather counterproductive for you to serve me as a bodyguard when you killed me.” Read the rest of this entry »


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Glorious Peeps and a Mother’s Love

I have always enjoyed Easter.  Ever since I was a young child, finding that basket and those eggs have been moments of pure joy.  My tired parents always watched closely, and if my siblings and I struggled, they would tell us how many eggs were left, and tell us which rooms the Easter Bunny hid them in.

After the morning hunt, we went to church and had another hunt, or had fun games an activities.  I don’t remember church things as well, because I didn’t enjoy them as much.  My parents were happy there, however, so I sat quietly and read whatever I could find.  If I was bored enough and didn’t have books of my own, I read Revelations.  It didn’t make much sense to me at the time, but it was much more interesting than the other parts of the Bible. Read the rest of this entry »

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Posted by on March 31, 2013 in Uncategorized


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Yet Another Face Story (Part II)

Continued from Yet Another Face Story.

Dag ate his breakfast slowly.  For two weeks, he lived with Face.  He still knew little about the youth, save that Face insisted that he was full-grown and not to be treated like a child.  Today, Face wanted to inspect the city his army conquered in its first advance into the borders.  Dag dreaded the visit.  He had family that lived there.  Despite his unwillingness to go, he kept his silence on the subject.

He had no way to know if mentioning his family’s uncertain fate was wise; Face seemed to detest the mention of families.  Any time Dag mentioned his own parents, Face became distant and refused to talk for hours, until Dag distracted him with a change in subject.

The silver smith took another bite of his omelet and paused. “Does this have bacon in it?” He asked the question suddenly. Read the rest of this entry »

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Posted by on March 30, 2013 in Semihistorical Fiction


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Yet Another Face Story

A butterfly fluttered its wings in the early morning light.  The fields of flowers looked golden in the sunrise.  A washer woman looked up from her laundry to watch the sunset from the stream she worked in.  Her aged face became deeply lined as she smiled. “Today is going to be a nice day,” her old voice rasped.

Back in the village, a messenger arrived. “The king is calling all heroes to the capital!” he announced loudly in the middle of the square.  He shouted it several more times as people gathered. “Hear!  Hear!  An evil wizard has come to our lands at the head of a massive army of cruel monsters!  The king is offering a reward to any capable of ending the threat through arms, guile, or other methods!” His voice carried easily through the air, and it took very little time for some of the men to begin to don their armor. Read the rest of this entry »

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Posted by on March 28, 2013 in Semihistorical Fiction


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Independant Fishing

World of Warcraft ain’t mine.  It never will be.  Riermar, Marlendra, and Fil’ul are characters on the Undermine server, from the Independants guild, all run by my friends and I.

“Thisss vay, ya idiotsss!” Fil’ul called as he settled in on a rock in the middle of the lake.  All around, irate fish jumped about, ready.  At his feet, the water on the stone was beginning to freeze.  His armor was dark blue and covered in spikes.  He shielded his glowing, dead eyes from the sun as he looked upward at two great, flying beasts.

One, he knew, carried the massive cow-man, Riermar.  He was a good fighter.  He was strong, for someone who fought at a distance.  Riermar was a good companion, and he anticipated an enjoyable time fishing with him, if the Tauren did not drink himself sick again. Read the rest of this entry »


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Shining Cherries

Vomit with a topping of blood was the start of Alec’s day. He felt miserable, with a burning, sore throat and tears in his eyes. His puke clung to his lips as he rinsed it off. At least the blood didn’t come from the same place as his upchuck. He splashed water on his nose and washed it vigorously.

A finger shot up the offending nostril, and came out mostly clean. It was good enough. Alec spat into the sink. It was still orange. He wrinkled his nose with distaste. Mornings were so fucking terrible. Every damned day was the same. Clogged nose, vomit, nosebleeds, and so much piss every morning, he swore he was a horse.

Being mortal was horrible. Read the rest of this entry »

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Posted by on March 27, 2013 in Modern Fiction


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“Adelbert!” The large man at the bar flinched visible at the sound of the calling voice.  A few other patrons looked at him and snickered before they turned to look at the figure who threw the door open as he stomped in.

The newcomer was short, and his tanned face was red with anger. “Adelbert, it’s time to go!”  A small fist flew at Adelbert’s side, too weak to harm him any more than a falling apple from a short height.  The minuscule priest in his blue and white garb looked comically childish as he glared up at Adelbert’s back. Read the rest of this entry »


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