Excerpt
The Funeral
“The sky was grey, and wept with a soft rain, I remember that much. People hurried through with black umbrellas, barely speaking a word to each other lest they disturb the quiet calm worn by the whole entire city. All across the countless streets and houses a great swell of emotion waited to break at the drop of a hat, and the people waited on baited breath to see what might finally break the stillness. It was almost as if the whole damn city itself knew what today was and responded accordingly. Children had hanged their heads and cats meowed a dirge at all hours and late into the night before. Now it was the morning and the storm of emotion threatened to break now more than ever. There was no telling the depth and extent of all that this city felt at the loss of such a woman. To say they’d lost a great lady didn’t do justice. To say she had done great justice for the city wasn’t even accurate. To say the woman cared deeply for her fellow men-- of all shapes and sizes-- wasn’t enough either. For a long time people had painfully anticipated her passing, gathering in clusters on the street corners by her stately house and whispering, wondering if today could be the day. The revolving staff of nurses and doctors passing in and out gave no answers, avoiding questions from journalists and bystanders, putting a hand up and refusing to comment. Such was the way the city had carried on for weeks, then months, then years, waiting for the old woman to die.
By alan pierce4 years ago in Fiction
From The Windcaller
Although Samueld had just reached his eighteenth birthday, many would have considered him a doyen because of his unusual abilities. However, hidden away at the ancient hacienda, he rarely used his abilities or his knowledge. Now, he was studying the old manuscripts that he had discovered in the trunk under the old quilts. He hoped that they would give him some insight into what he was supposed to do to rescue the "Others". He looked longingly out the open windows at the purple mountains to the north and thought about going there to investigate. His old guardians would never agree to such an adventure. He could try to contact Andriana and get her to go ahead and plot a course for him. He suddenly thought about her going along with him. She had a special talent also but hers allowed her to be hidden without being imprisoned.
By Judith Parrish Broadbent4 years ago in Fiction
By the Blood
It was happening again. Dammit! I couldn’t stop my head from spinning, the visions flashing before my eyes. The eruption of Vesuvius. The earthquakes in Crete. Poveglia Island. The Antonine Plague. The scenes came and went almost faster than I could keep up. My nose bled and my legs felt like jelly as I stumbled down the hall. My hoarse voice called out to my mother, but I didn’t think she could hear me. I tried my damnedest to shout, but I felt like my voice was slowly being stolen. As I finally came upon the entrance to the living room, I whispered for her once last time.
By Mina Ramey4 years ago in Fiction
House on the Hill
There was this house on a hill that was very evil. It reeked of it. The rubble could call itself names. It would probably call itself Paul, I would think. It was also a very sad house. Crawling with dog tags and mystical letters. Painted red and swallowed whole in romance. The romance of the mystical kind. It baited many a weary traveler. Drowned them in its own sadness. This is very disturbing, but it was there just the same.
By Alex Jennett4 years ago in Fiction
