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Red, painted lips pressed against the infant’s head, and his mother rose and turned from the still child and left the darkened room.  Her quiet voice hummed a lullaby her own mother used to sing to her, and she walked to her own bedroom to get dressed for work.

Her uniform was already clean and laid out.  She checked her purse to make certain it had all she needed, and then began to change.  A kiss on her shoulder told of her husband’s arrival.  She turned to look at him and smiled at him. “Mind helping me change?” Her wink was flirtatious, and he smiled back at her as he zipped her bright red tube top into place over her chest.  It was a struggle against her large breasts. Read the rest of this entry »

 
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Posted by on August 7, 2013 in Modern Fiction

 

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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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The Sand Flea (Part IV)

Continued from The Sand Flea (Part III).

Waking was a trial.  He woke always to the reminder that he was in enemy territory.  Any time he became upset, or his back started to hurt, Korenila walked in on silent feet and touched his back with a hand that felt like cool water, and sleep claimed him again.  He had no idea what time it was, nor any idea how to get back to his home country– or even if he would be allowed to live after his recovery.  It seemed strange that they’d let him heal before they executed him– if they were going to, at all.

Once, he woke at night, and laid in the bed.  Voices outside of his room slowly filtered in, and he slowly slid from the bed and walked to the door.  He pressed one long ear against it and listened quietly, while trying to move as little as possible. Read the rest of this entry »

 
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Posted by on June 13, 2013 in Semihistorical Fiction

 

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The Sand Flea (Part III)

Continued from The Sand Flea (Part II).

Rest and darkness.  There was peace, and he felt no pain.  All was perfect, and he simply drifted.

It was said that those who died for their country became martyrs, who found peace after death.  He felt certain he had found his peace, until something pressed insistently against his mouth.  He opened it to object, only for the unmistakable shape of a spoon to enter.

Delicious soup filled his mouth, and the spoon pulled back out.  For a time, he tasted it before he swallowed.  The spoon pressed against his mouth again, and he opened to let the spoon past lips that began to ache.  He tried to open his eyes, but they felt pasted shut.  A soft voice spoke, and he couldn’t make it out.  Obediently, he ate his soup, and drifted back to rest. Read the rest of this entry »

 
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Posted by on June 12, 2013 in Semihistorical Fiction

 

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The Sand Flea (Part II)

Continued from The Sand Flea.

The trial was a shitty act.  The justice man was prejudiced, and the law that was broken was an old one, from less civilized times.  A huge crowd formed to watch the local goblin take the stand to defend himself, dried blood still caked on his claws.

“I’m being punished for defending a woman.  So what if the law says the owner of the bitch needs a chance at a revenge strike?  He wasted it in letting the man get to his woman.” Ask grunted and looked around. “I killed a raper and an enemy of Njolr!” He lifted his head up. “For Njolr!” he screamed.  There was no answer.  His red eyes looked across the square, at the justice man. “Did you kill anyone for Njolr this week?” His narrowed eyes were a challenge. Read the rest of this entry »

 
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Posted by on June 5, 2013 in Semihistorical Fiction

 

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