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The Sand Flea (Part X)

Continued from The Sand Flea (Part IX).

“Hey, something’s ahead!” Evoxe’s voice was sudden, and woke Ask from his doze.  His head was somewhere soft, and the sun’s warmth felt nice on his skin.  He looked upward, and saw Korenila’s face.  He was resting his head against her chest, and she was leaning against the forward wall of the straw cart.  Beside him, Horse had her nose under his hand.

Korenila opened her eyes. “What is it, Evoxe?”

“I think it’s-” he trailed off momentarily before he continued, “It’s a house.  Nobody should be living this close to the Drop.” Read the rest of this entry »

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The Sand Flea (Part IX)

Continued from The Sand Flea (Part VIII).

Ask continued to run through the healers’ temple, desperately seeking someone who believed him.  His back began to burn with a dull ache. “Bandits are coming!” He pointed back, behind the temple. “They’re that way!”

Several scoffed at the panting goblin.

“Liar!”

“You’re for Njolr!”

“You’re just going to rob us blind!” The patients’ voices kept the priests from hearing, and as Ask tried to run towards a male priest that had fancier robes than the rest, a hand wrapped around his ankle, and a group of seven patients bustled him out the same door he entered through. Read the rest of this entry »

 
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Posted by on July 1, 2013 in Semihistorical Fiction

 

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The Sand Flea (Part VIII)

The nights were growing cooler, and Ask’s back almost didn’t hurt at all anymore.  Despite his recovery, Korenila insisted he should stay, and he couldn’t help but wonder why he didn’t mind taking orders from her.  She was kind.  That must have been why, he was sure.  He was given his freedom to wander the barnyard, however, and wander he did.

Horse was never far behind, and nobody seemed worried about Ask’s presence.  He expected people to avoid him, or to be rude to him.  Instead, the stable hands were polite and helpful, and several offered to help him saddle Horse.  He declined in the most polite way he knew, and a few laughed good-naturedly, while others frowned at him for his poor word choice. Read the rest of this entry »

 
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Posted by on June 27, 2013 in Semihistorical Fiction

 

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The Sand Flea (Part VII)

They called it ‘physical therapy’.  Ask called it stupid.  Korenila came into his room every day and oversaw him walking around the room.  She made him bend his body in weird ways that made the flesh on his back feel strange.  Under her instruction, he moved his arms, squatted, and moved side to side.  His cheeks burned each time, but she never gave him a day’s respite from those hour periods of ‘therapy’ unless the pain was too strong for him, which it was only rarely of late.

His back did stop hurting so much when he moved around or tried his secret exercises to try to lose his additional weight he’d picked up during his long period of bedrest.  He felt fat, like a human. Read the rest of this entry »

 
 

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The Sand Flea (Part VI)

Continued from The Sand Flea (Part V).

The weeks passed by as Ask slowly recovered.  His blackouts happened less frequently, replaced instead by restful sleep, and his mind recovered quickly.  He spent much of his time either in bed, or restlessly wandering while his body refused to let him go far.  Horse often escaped her stall to spend time with him– typically with uncanny timing.

Ask tossed and turned during one night as he had one of his uncommon nightmares.  He tossed onto his side as he watched a fire.  His next shift brought him across his belly, and onto his other side as he tried to flee from the images of that monochrome, heat-less fire that plagued his mind. Read the rest of this entry »

 
 

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The Sand Flea (Part V)

Continued from The Sand Flea (Part IV).

Violence and raged ruled Ask.

He snarled and lashed out at the objects in his room.  He did not touch horse, or human, or elf, but Korenila felt threatened.

“Stop, please!” she begged, but he ignored her as he clawed at the walls, leaving deep gouges.  His red eyes glared at her for a moment before he went back to his destructive tantrum.  Korenila backed away with a pleading glance at Evoxe. Read the rest of this entry »

 
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Posted by on June 14, 2013 in Semihistorical Fiction

 

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“For man, as for flower and beast and bird, the supreme triumph is to be most vividly, most perfectly alive.” – D.H. Lawrence

Continued from “The best thing about dreams… and it really happened.”

The boy in the girl jeans fell.  That brief expression of shock he held right before impact warmed me, and I dragged him inside, then locked the door again.  I had two of the boys now.  I took a breath and looked at the boy I just felled.  There was a small smudge of blood on his forehead.  Slowly, I checked his skull for any obvious dents.  None were found, but his nose was bleeding and looked crooked now.  I dragged him to the bedroom and tied him to a very heavy chair.

Curly watched me from the door with surprise. “Maybe you can hold your own…” He murmured. “Boss is going to put up a hell of a fight, though.  I don’t think you’ll last.”

Read the rest of this entry »

 
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Posted by on January 22, 2013 in Modern Fiction

 

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