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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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Sex and Ice Cream

A day off!  For most of the day, Melanie had no idea what to do with herself.  The blonde felt lazy, bored, and horny. She paused as she stared at the clock.  She was hungry, too.  Hungry for something sweet and cold, and not too hard to get.

Finally, she pried herself from her bed and pulled on some comfortable clothes– a hoodie on top of nothing, some underwear, a miniskirt, and a pair of fun, clompy boots that had shiny buckles.  It still felt like dressing was too much work, but the nice police men hated for her to do as she liked in public. Read the rest of this entry »

 
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Posted by on June 4, 2013 in Modern Fiction

 

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Welcome to the Forest

The day was warm, and a balmy breeze blew across the fields just outside the old forest.  The sun shone down without a single cloud to block its loving rays.  The scent of sun-kissed blueberries clung to the noses of the three boys who laid in the fields, their backs resting on the cool, damp ground beneath the grass.  With closed eyes and slow breathing, they napped.

Each of them was supposed to be working at their family shops, but none cared to on such a lazy, sunny day. Every one of the three boys simply soaked up the sun as he dreamed of the only thing any solid boy of thirteen cared for: girls. One dreamed of the baker’s daughter, plain and pretty.  She always smelled of cinnamon.  Another fantasized about the smith’s daughter, and how dark and mysterious she was.  The young woman always avoided talking to boys, and none of the other girls in town spoke of her, save in passing.  The third boy dreamed of the tailor and her round, womanly figure.  She was a widow who was kind, but kept distant from the local children, as though she was wary of becoming too friendly with them.

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The Commission

Sleep beckoned me back to the warmth of my bed.  My clock said nine something PM.  I pulled my cat back against my chest.  In surprise, she trilled at me, and I closed my eyes as I absently scratched her ear.  My brother had friends over.  I could hear them across the hall.  What was my dream?  I was losing it.

Fuck.  No, I needed that dream.  I was going to write about it!  Grumpily, I pressed my face into Velvet’s soft, smooth fur, provoking another trill of surprise.  Her paw pressed against my chest lightly for a few moments before the slim, agile cat wriggled free of my grasping hands.  My clock said eleven in the evening now.  I glared at the glowing red numbers and slowly rose.  I went to the bathroom, then remembered my brother had friends over.  I waited for them to go out for a smoke while I waited in my PJs on the toilet, then finished, cleaned up, and dashed to my room.  I closed the door. Read the rest of this entry »

 
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Posted by on January 27, 2013 in Nonfiction

 

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Fist to the face!

The starry sky was clear.  It was an unusually warm winter night with a strong wind.  Deceptive howls and whistles surrounded Min and Otto.  Otto squinted up suspiciously at the sky and clenched his strong hands into fists. “Min…” he murmured as he glanced toward the dainty, proud-looking woman.

“Never mind it.  The rumored monster is just a story to scare people.” She waved a slender hand absently and stepped forward, toward the half-bare willow tree.  Half-melted snow slopped and clung to her boots and soaked the hem of her long cloak.

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Posted by on January 19, 2013 in Semihistorical Fiction

 

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