The flames' height had dropped as they consumed the most flammable of materials in the estate house. If anything, though, the fire grew in heat intensity, especially around the stone stairs to the bolt hole or safe room. I hadn't been able to enter, and Brujeria had been to wounded and in too much pain …
Tag: Alliance
Open Wounds
I sit at the back of the little plaza, watching the celebration unfold. They ignore us, for the most part, not overtly hostile, but not.....welcoming either. We are the family of their new high priestess to be, whatever they officially called the position, regardless of the magic, or maybe because of the magic, a tribe …
Waiting
“I 'ate this fuckin' room.” Five minutes later, “I 'ate this fuckin' room.” I sit next to the bed. Again. I sit and I stare at the unconscious form. Her long purple hair lies tangled about her sleeping form. Of course, its not entirely purple any more, and I guess its a sleeping form now. …
Just in Case . . . .
START RECORDING The video shows the sandy haired man staring into the camera. The room behind him shows a massive bed, tightly made, the floor spotless, various punk and skaa band posters are plastered on one wall. Twenty three seconds of silence play through the video as the man stares into the camera before he …
What Price Memory, Part X
I sit there, lost in the memory of a pinup show. The foggy memory clears, and nothing about poor cell phone video gets in the way. With her there, her hand upon my leg as she sips the last of the wine, I can fe..... “Good stuff,” she says, knocking rest of the wine back, …
What Price Memory, Part IX
April 1st, 2013 (All Fool's Day) 2047 Hours The infiltration has gone smoothly. Shift change leading into the evening. They really hadn't been hardened against a professional attack, especially one led by someone with his capabilities combined with his training. Add no mercy for those who had destroyed my family's innocence, and well, while we …
What Price Memory, Part VIII
The chairs aren't exactly comfortable, or maybe its the awkwardness of this trip down memory lane, the emotional toll its taking on her. Me, well, I've given up trying to figure out my emotions. Too many ways I can lose control with negative, shall we say, results. It really only takes the briefest reference to …
What Price Memory, Part VII
We continued to sit, her sobbing into my shoulder, I in mute rage at the pain she has suffered because of a decision to help me so long ago. As she quiets, I could still feel, taste the pain hovering around her, hear the shuddering of her breath, the thunder of her heart, as if …
What Price Memory, Part VI
“That's not the way it happened.....” I start to reply. “Damn it......” Do memory paths cause physical pain? I have no idea, I am no fucking neurosurgeon. What I can tell you is that whatever the fuck is happening this night, right now, it hurts like ever fucking hell. When I feel a slightly clammy hand …
What Price Memory, Part V
I turn to eating, just eating. Anything to distract me at this point from the pain of the dinner. Yes, I had asked, and yes, I had insisted. What drives us to know the unknown? I mean, did it really matter? They were here now and as long as they all learned the truth, did …
What Price Memory, Part IV
I withdraw my hand from the table, overcome with powerful emotions. Anger and frustration from hearing about a life and family denied to me, joy and amusement at Olivia's antics. Remembered desire from a past long gone. I sit there, staring into....something. Should we really learn of what could have been? Or am I truly …
What Price Memory, Part III
I've suffered a lot of pain in my life, assuming any of my memories are true. Which is debatable, at best. I remember bullets in Iraq, grenade fragments in Afghanistan. What I do know, is that just because something heals quickly, does not mean that the pain is any less severe, you just don't die …
What Price Memory, Part II
I study her as the sommelier bringS the wine she ordered, offering it first to me, and with a shake of my head, going through the dance of the sniff and taste with her. Somewhere, a thought chases through my head, probably from Henri, that the tasting was irrelevant, that originally, the sniff was just …
What Price Memory, Part I
I wasn't sure why I was so nervous. She'd told me along time ago that she didn't want to marry me, and then kept a life altering secret from me. If dinner at an expensive French restaurant was the price to pay to find out information about my daughter, then I was willing to pay, …
What Price Memory: Intro
They'd had some good times over the last few days, the three of them. Awkward at times, of course, but good, he'd thought. But she kept doling out the information slowly, and he had a soldier's dichotomy of immense patience while on or planning the mission, and almost none in his personal life. Whether it …
Last Dreams 