Venemous Vigor


He remembered the day the crown was placed upon her brow. The power she immediately commanded. The instantaneous praise of those bowing before her. 

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Forgotten Foes

bear“Out there, in the wilderness, we discovered the bones of a god.”

     “Enyi, when can we stop for a snack?” Reya fluttered around Avante’s shoulders, poking at him with her tiny fairy fingers. Avante waved his hand, missing her purposely, but forcing her to shy away slightly. She frowned, “Enyi, you need to eat something. You’ve walked for three stretches without resting.”
     Avante slowed to a stop and let out a heavy sigh. He adjusted the strap pulling against his shoulder. Saiph was a heavy burden to bear, but he proudly carried her without complaint. His relationship with the blade had been determined before his first kick in his mother’s womb. Wielding Saiph in the name of Her Grace was his destiny. He barely registered the silent objections from his weary body after all these years. 

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Egg Quest

[Prompt: Write a story about a very special cake ]

     Petra awoke to the crowing of Peckels, her favorite rooster. Rolling on to her side, she looked towards the shutters to notice Peckels’ call was too early, yet again. She grabbed her feather pillow and covered her face, groaning with annoyance.
     Once out of bed she lit the fire and hung a kettle over the open flame. If she was going to get up this early, she might as well treat herself to some tea. Pulling the sole chair of her hut towards the fire, she settled in to wait for the water to boil.
     Basking in the warmth of the flames, she considered the ingredients she would need for the important task of the day. Petra had milled the necessary amount of flour the previous day, it was in a clay container in the pantry. The pantry also contained the sugar and salt, so she checked those off her mental checklist. She needed to get butter and hartshorn from the cellar, she would gather them after she finished milking Mertha. The rosewater sat on the counter in the kitchen, the infusion finished by now. The meager amount of cinnamon she had been saving was going to be emptied today, the thought turned her mouth into a frown. She went through the list in her mind once more, suspicious of which ingredient she was missing. 
     Eggs. Of course. The eggs she knew she needed to gather, but had been putting off all week. Her frown became a grimace as the kettle began to scream. She hoped it wasn’t an omen of things to come. 

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Sword in the Ceiling – WriteSemper

[Prompt:  After a long, hard day of work, you return home—the only problem is, your front door is wide open, all your lights are on and there’s a sword stuck in the ceiling. The rest of your house looks normal, but you also notice several holes dug in your backyard. What’s going on? ]

    “This can’t be good.” The last thing Sandra wanted to see after coming home from work, was the front door of her home standing wide open. From where she sat in the car, it looked as if every light in the house was on. It shone at the end of the block like a lighthouse beacon warning her of imminent danger. She had been tempted to turn the car around and find a cheap motel to spend the night. It was her husband’s day off and his turn to watch their three children. Yet this meant she couldn’t storm inside, demand what was going on and fire him on the spot like she might have done to a babysitter. Instead she had to be level-headed and discuss the situation like mature adults instead of scream at her husband in front of the children. At times she felt that he really was one of the children instead of a grown adult.

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Losing the Light

[Prompt: She was all of the light I had in the world (or he) ]

     “Time heals all wounds,” she had said as the wind blew her golden hair, obscuring her beautiful features as I tried to savor the last sip of her presence. Like a complex wine that needs repeated tasting to discern the components, I could never quite get enough to describe her. I had spent a century in a drunken stupor at her side, my thirst for her had never been quenched. I was still thirsty.
     I had been unsure if she meant for her statement to be cruel then, only later realizing the irony of her final words. The idea that time heals wounds only applies to one that counts time. Time is meaningless to an immortal.

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