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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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Temple of Time

The clock struck, and the gongs rang out.  Each gong sounded like a person screaming a lie to the heavens. “Dead King!” The gong with a voice of a young, strong man cried as the king laughed and danced about gaily. “Bad Crops!” This time, the gong sounded like a sweet-voiced woman as farmers brought in many vegetables from lush fields.  Another, a child with a stutter, cried “No w-war!” but the land was quickly razed by men covered in blood and iron.  The last peal was a horrible cry with a hoarse, loud voice. “Hero comes!” It screamed, like an old woman under torture, just as a man in shining armor was killed under an unknown figure’s axe.

The world suddenly became dark, and shadowy fog hid all, save the torso of a woman.  With blind, groping hands she reached into the shadows.  A few times, she pulled something from them, but returned it.  Finally, she drew forth a tattered robe, like a wordsmith of old.  Dark red curls framed her bare breasts and her round, pregnant belly.  Her flesh pale and soft, save where deep, ugly scars encircled her belly.  There were more than might be counted in that brief instant I saw her. 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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Sacrilege

Terror gripped my soul as I watched the Invaders attack my father’s uncle.  Blood wept from the wounds they inflicted onto his flesh.  Despite this, he kept his mouth closed firmly and stared directly into my eyes.  I could not look away as the man who taught me how to shoot a bow held my eyes.  His gaze didn’t waver, and he made no sound as the Invaders continued to beat him, even when they began to use sticks.  Blood began to fall from his body, and I tried not to cry.

My father’s uncle refused to give in to the physical abuse, even as the Invaders began to scream horrible-sounding words at him.

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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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It Comes.

The black disk rested on the massive white altar in stark contrast.  Gideon bowed his head, closed his eyes, and balled his hands into fists.  He crossed his arms over his chest and began to pray to the deity that was personified in a statue of quartz and gold behind the altar.  Nausea set in, and he could smell something burning.  He opened his eyes and looked up without moving his body.  He continued to pray aloud, slowly growing in volume.  The disk was bubbling with sickly-looking grey liquid that was thick enough he couldn’t see through.  The foam began to expand violently upward.

A dome formed, and as more foam shot upward, a face became visible, silently screaming in agony.  The face had no eyes and slitted nostrils, but no protruding nose.  It’s mouth had no lips, and opened like a fish’s mouth on a hinge.  Loud hissing filled the room as the foam expanded farther, and the hissing became louder.  Gideon’s prayers increased in volume to match, and a long neck formed, cutting off the ear-less head.  The louder Gideon prayed, the faster the being formed.  Fingers slowly appeared, knobby and elongated.  They were tipped in horrible claws that dripped blackness.  The blackness hissed against the surface of the altar.

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