Tag Archives: ritual

The History of Lake CLASSIFIED

“I don’t think this is such a good idea.” Vincent frowned as he looked around. “The old quarry is so eerie at night.” His voice trailed off, and he flipped his collar up to protect himself from the light rain that ran down the back of his neck.  It felt like tiny shards of ice.  He looked to one side at his best friend, the younger girl called Melanie. “You should run home, Melanie.”

Melanie shook her head and held his hand, as around them, the six adults kept the two moving inside their circle of bodies. Read the rest of this entry »


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Two Flowers

A warm touch.  A soft kiss.  The embrace was thirst-quenching for my soul.  It ended with the soft pat pat of coins landing on my bed, and his quiet footsteps leaving the room.  I opened my eyes, hopeful my ears lied.  They told me true.  He was gone.  As I closed my eyes and laid my head back down, I felt warm wetness on my lashes.  Sleep quickly found me again.

Crack!  The whip snapped against my flesh and I howled with an open throat.  My voice echoed back at me from the paneled walls.  I had no time to prepare as it struck me again, across the buttox.  A scream tore from me, and he allowed me to rest while he left, supposedly to get a drink.  Time passed slowly as I waited without a word.  The ache of my legs held apart and my hands tied above my head began to grow from dull to a fire across my shoulders and calves.  I called his name as I spotted the light of morning through the tiny window, but he did not come. Read the rest of this entry »


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The Rebirth of the Suleyes

Crash!  The bottle shattered against the wall.  A young boy with bold eyes, barely missed by the projectile, stood his ground.  One eye was nearly swollen shut, and his cheek was bloodied.  A nubby child’s nose bled freely into his panting mouth.  He straightened his shoulders. “Are-” he cut off for a moment and cleared his throat. “Are you done yet, father?” His tone held a coldness typically reserved for old warriors.

Outside, the warm night breeze beckoned the strong-willed child as his father reached for his hunting knife.  The boy stood his ground as his back felt the balmy light.  Without flinching or outcry, he braced himself as the drunken man stumbled closer. Read the rest of this entry »


Posted by on February 4, 2013 in Semihistorical Fiction


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