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Son of a Bitch

Continued from The Ass Returns.

“You two aren’t going to get anything done just staring at that snake.  It’s not too big, is it?  I could have beaten it off by now.” The ever-filthy wanderer, Piper, observed with bored eyes.  His ever-present flute case rested on his lap as he leaned forward to watch.  Crooked teeth bit at the tip of his thumb in irritation. “At this rate, that little snake will eat one of you for dinner.”

Leopold growled.  He was injured and exhausted.  The ‘little snake’ was at least four times his size, and apparently without weakness.  It drew back, ready to strike at the young man directly in front of him.

“Worthless.” Piper grunted. Read the rest of this entry »

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The Ass Returns

Continued from Oh Shit.

Edaline returned to her father’s house as an unwed woman.  Her maidenhead broken, she had little hopes of a new marriage, and her father treated her coolly, while her mother coddled her.  There she waited for the man she didn’t expect to come.  The days became weeks, and she began to lose hope.  Should she return to her husband?  For a few days, she debated it, and even began to pack.  If he didn’t accept her return, she would be without hope for a future that lacked shame.

She stopped packing.  She needed answers too badly.  She would remain, and she would wait. Read the rest of this entry »

 
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Posted by on February 22, 2013 in Semihistorical Fiction

 

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Well, shit.

Continued from Oops.

The day of Young Lady Edaline Starrik’s anniversary of birth arrived on a day filled with clouds and rain.  Piper packed away his flute before the sun rose.  He dressed quickly and began to walk off.  He avoided the roads as he took a more direct route through field and forest.  The scruffy man intended to arrive first, and walked quickly.  At times, he ran when he heard others.

Branches gripped and pulled at his clothing.  New rips and tears formed.  He held his cape in place after a reminder that a yanked cape caused difficulty when he tried to breathe.

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Posted by on January 2, 2013 in Semihistorical Fiction

 

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Otterly Shameless

Travelers never did expect me to be anything but a cute, stupid little animal.  Trappers didn’t either, but my kind are far better than the normal otters that sometimes show up around these parts.  I stared ahead at the woman in her fancy blue traveling clothes, and widened my eyes.  I stood on my hind legs and alternated my back feet.  My entire body wiggled as my large bottom shifted.  I pressed my front paws together and made the “woop” sound that so often worked wonders for me.

The human looked down and made the human sound of endearment, then reached to pick me up.  I scrambled into her arms and rubbed my forehead on her cheek, then gave her a nose-nuzzle.  I had her now.

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The Child of Fire, Death, and Life

Continued from By Fire and Death, Life Grows.

It took only months for Morgan to find the meaning behind Kareh’s words on the morning after he saved her life. She was pregnant, and as time went on, the private school began to notice. She was sent back to the home of Morgan’s parents, who tried desperately to convince her to abort the child. Kareh repeatedly turned their pained discussions into screaming matches, and inevitably won out. The child was born on a bitterly cold spring day, filled with drizzle and sog. Her young body was torn asunder in the efforts to birth her child, and illness soon took hold.

Morgan stayed by her side as doctors cared for her on his own dime. He was a father now, and he was prepared to take responsibility.

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By Fire and Death, Life Grows

From the Writer’s Block.

Spark Word: Fertility

The festival continued.  Brightly-colored swaths of cloth adorned the wrists of each dancer as they spun around the fire.  Some of the gauzy lengths were singed, while others remained intact through sheer speed.  Glimmering body paint reflected the golden glow of the fire, and the spectators were in awe.  Each of the thin females dancing was barely a woman– each of whom had only begun to blossom, and wore a breast band that was white with a vivid red stain that surrounded a smaller brown stain.

Drums sped up, and the dancing became fevered.  The volume pounded through each of the dancers and listeners, and it echoed deep within them.  Many of the members of the audience held their breath.  Many more shifted to accommodate a need for more loose pants, or a moistening of their underclothes.

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