The Burning Fame of Jealousy_A Man, His Memories and the Long Road Ahead_Ledrith's Remorse_An An
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The Burning Fame of Jealousy
“You wanna do something fun?”I turned my head toward Marina’s voice, my eyes still closed to the sunshine. “No. Like what?”I felt her roll closer, our sleeves brushing against each other and her book nudging against my ribs. “Let’s go to Kaz’s house and see if his dad will let him out early today.”My heart fluttered. “Kaz’s dad never lets him out before 5 PM, you know that.”“But maybe he will if we ask?”I opened my eyes to give her a pointed look.“You’re right,” she groaned, throwing an elbow over her eyes and nearly smacking my face with the book in the process. I closed my eyes again, takin...
A Man, His Memories and the Long Road Ahead
He walks the road alone. His cane clicks against the cobblestone, relieving his weary feet of the burden of his weight. Against the brightly burning mid-afternoon sun, his skin glistens, his chapped lips and crimson cheeks peeling off from the heat. They have been doing that for a long time now, the layers shedding off as if he is some sort of lizard, and he wonders if it will reach a point where he will no longer have any skin left. Because he has a long time until he can stop again under the cool shade of a tree, basking in the sweet relief. He still has a long road to walk. Twisting and wr...
Ledrith's Remorse
Warning: This story contains attempted rape, physical violence, and murder. The smell of the herbs hung thick in the air, far too potent to be considered pleasant, as the pestle pounded and ground down into the mortar. Of course, a potent smell for this particular brew was a good thing. Medicinal tea may not have been something anyone liked to sip on, but when it would soothe the throat, fight a fever, and aid in sleep, an ill patient would gulp it down like a pint normally.The young apprentice, Ledrith, had been training with herbs and tonics for nearly ten years now and had finally earned...
An Angel's Gift
Smack dab near the center of a small town in middle America was a blue house. Not too big, or too small. The sort of house in which middle class couples raise their families. Well-kept, unpretentious. It's pretty front door usually decorated with a pretty wreath, color and foliage based upon the season. Helen Carter opened her particular front door, on this particular day, to exchange her particular wreath from autumn's crimson, gold and rust leaves, pumpkins and gourds, to one of white, silver, and blue in recognition of the impending Christmas Season. As Helen stepped out the door, her foot...