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The Spirits Provide

Pole goes in the water.  Pole jabs the bottom.  Push the pole away and pull it out at the same time.  Go forward.  Turning is harder, but goes the same way.  That’s what Pop always told me before he died on a ferrying run gone bad.  He was gone now, so the ferry was mine.

It was a shitty raft, moved by a long pole.  It took a lot of raw strength and quick thinking.  Pop had been saving up for a real boat, but he lost his money when he went underwater.  All I had was what the Spirits let return: his raft, his pole, and his teachings. Read the rest of this entry »

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Casualty

“He’s doing it again, isn’t he?” The little girl demanded petulantly, her lower jaw jutted forward and one eye narrowed suspiciously.

Her mother shook her head.  She was trying, and failing, to conceal a smile.

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Posted by on January 25, 2013 in Semihistorical Fiction

 

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“Well, remember what you said, because in a day or two, I’ll have a witty and blistering retort! You’ll be devastated THEN!” – Calvin & Hobbes

The time for vengeance was at hand.  I gripped my dagger.  It was small, but sharp.  It would end him far faster than he deserved.  Cold satisfaction gripped me as I called his name. “Bernard!”

He turned around.  For a moment, I almost lost the will to destroy him.  For a moment, I saw his very soul in those beautiful blue eyes.  I almost dropped my dagger.

“There’s something I have to tell you, Bernard, before we travel any farther.”

“I know already, Elise.” His tone was gentle, and his worn face broke into a gentle smile. “Go ahead.” He sounded like my father had before he was killed.  He sounded gentle and reassuring.

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Posted by on January 21, 2013 in Semihistorical Fiction

 

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Snow

Snow fell slowly onto the ground.  It seemed like stars falling down from the heavens, to those who stared out of the fire-warmed cave.  Long ears adorned all but one of the ten people inside, and each of them was ill-dressed for the frozen weather outside.  The wind and the stone around them sucked their heat away, and they chattered among themselves, debating on going deeper, where they could see the ruddy glow of fire.  Surely it would be warmer!

Eventually, the group decided to build a wall of snow to stop the wind from entering the low-roofed cave, and began work.  Several worked on and on, until finally a wall was built.

The young man who did most of the work stumbled to their weak fire and sat beside it, shaking and rocking to try to restore heat to his body. “We have to go deeper.” he said after a few long minutes.  The area inside seemed warmer now, but the still air bit at their flesh, and the stone under their feet continued to suck at their warmth.

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Posted by on December 20, 2012 in Semihistorical Fiction

 

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