The Morning and Evening StarWhen had he last held a sword or felt the warm embrace of his wife? Or even stood proudly by as she cradled their newborn son? It felt like years, many seasons of the Nile flooding her banks. The torches were flickering, teased by a light breeze. Ramses stared down at his hands, turning them over. Lined, weathered. Worn from age. Even his sight was dimmer than it had been in years past.The Morning and Evening Star2 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
One of the palace slaves approached cautiously, dropping to her knees for a brief moment before offering her hand to him. He took it silently, without protest. Years ago he might have denied his frailty, backhanded her for her presumption. She was a slave and he was Pharoh. No longer, he was an old man and tired.
The palace was oddly silent on this night, once it had been filled with music and the sound of voices but not this time.
His rooms looked out onto the river and the setting sun. “Will I be remembered?”
The slave woman hesitated for a moment. “I...cannot answer that but k
DragonriderThe first time she flies it’s like watching someone breathe fresh air for the first time. While the rest of us cling to her dragon for dear life, she grins widely and spreads her arms out wide, feeling the air brush passed her fingertips. She always wanted to ride on an airplane and see the world from a bird’s eye view, and while this world has taken everything from her I suppose it’s done some good too.Dragonrider8 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
We don’t ride that much, but when we do she always does this; letting her hair loose and feeling the air with her fingertips. I hate flying, but she makes me sit up front with her one day, and over the roar of the wind she points all of the things there is to see below. “I told him he has to listen to you, too.” My sister hollers, patting the dragon affectionately, and I try to figure out how in such a short amount of time she could possibly bond with a creature this much.
Her magic has a price, the kind you can never recover from, and when it sets i
17. BloodMausolinia gripped her hammer tightly, as bolts of chaos magic and bullets flew around her, sinking into the flesh of both demons and noble men of the Holy Infantry. She would not fall today, no. "Sister Iris! Assist me at once!" She trembled once, but stood from her kneeling position regardless. A rush of warmth and comfort flowed through her body, and her resolve was strengthened. She could not see her sister, but she knew that the Unrelenting was there, and that was enough in Mausolinia's heart. With newfound vigor she readied her hammer in one hand, her other readying her tome of laws and devotions. "To follow the path of the Dead God is to commit two heresies, my child! You have left the righteous path of the Telisium, and you have rejected the compassion of your Prince! I offer you atonement yet! For though you have turned away from our Prince, he still carries his love for you!"17. Blood2 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The target of her words merely snarled. A shriveled, hunched figure, eyes beady and black, bony hands